Chapter 37 – Grant
L ike a beautiful work of art, love touches the heart and soul.
“Why would you do such a foolish thing?”
“I need to tell you…”
“You can tell me later when you’re not coughing between every breath, Grant.”
Peaches. My pillow smells like peaches. A smile overtakes my face as I open my eyes. I’m warm and dry and the sun is shining through the bay window of our bedroom. One of Daisy’s easels is set up there. I miss her painting in our bedroom. It must be morning.
It was dark and rainy outside when the doctor came last night. I kept trying to talk to her but the damn coughing wouldn’t stop. The physician scolded me over the cold that had worked its way into my chest but Daisy scolded me far more.
And, in her scolding, I could hear the concern. My wife was worried about me. It's not as though I’m surprised by that and it’s not like I wanted to get sick and worry her. But, knowing she was concerned, that she cared… damn, it felt good. Too good to let a cold keep me down for long.
I take a deep breath and let it rush out of my lungs again. No cough. I’m sure it’ll return at some point but I’m feeling better already after a night of restful sleep.
Running my fingers along the sheets beside me, I find them cool to the touch. I would’ve sworn she was here a moment ago. “Daisy?” I rasp, my throat as dry as the desert.
“Good morning, sir. I have some water here.” I turn my head to find Radcliffe hovering nearby.
“Where is my wife?” I ask after taking a dutiful sip.
“She’s gone to the city.”
“Oh.” I feel my smile slipping away. Did I dream everything? Was her sleeping beside me a hallucination? Or perhaps she’s decided I’m well enough to leave with the servants now and she wishes to continue as we have been.
“Mrs. Barclay did not wish to leave at all, mind you. She was by your side all night and terribly worried. Mrs. Keating and the others insisted she go and that we would keep you well until she returned.”
Oh. My smile returns in full force. “Where did she go?’
“There was some sort of art event she’s been looking forward to. She wanted us to inform you when you woke and assure you that she would be back in a few- sir? You really should lie back down at once! Mrs. Barclay said we were to make sure you rested and I will be forced to call your wife if-”
“Rat on me if you wish, Fisher, but Mrs. Barclay has gone to the public mural painting event today and I’m not going to miss that. In fact, I’m going to participate, too.”
“You’re going to… participate?” Poor Radcliffe looks ready to swallow his bowtie but he doesn’t stop me from rising. I’ll grab a quick shower and some appropriate clothes and be out the door in…
My hectic flow of thoughts fly clean from my mind when I see the painting resting on the easel by the window. I drop right back down on the bed as if someone pulled the rug out from under my feet.
“Is that my…”
A young woman with dark hair and eyes, holding a book and sitting by a tree among tall hedges with fireflies dotting the borders, it reminds me of the stories she would tell me when I was small. It’s Daisy’s work without a doubt and not what one typically thinks of when they think of a portrait. It’s much more vivid than that, full of life, color and an irresistible element of whimsy. But, that’s not to say it isn’t good. It’s excellent, the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever beheld.
“It’s a fair likeness, is it not?” Radcliffe asks.
“It’s more than fair. It’s a beautiful gift. Just as Elyse was,” another voice answers.
Turning, I see Luis loitering in the doorway, gazing at the portrait of my mother with emotion. “Yes, she was,” I murmur, knowing my own eyes have grown hot and wet.
“Let him get dressed, Mr. Radcliffe. I’ll drive him into the city where his missus is.”
The two men leave, leaving me with emotions that feel like a tidal wave ready to sweep me away. Slowly, I stand again, padding across the carpeted floor for a closer look. She created this masterpiece for me. I don’t know how Daisy managed to capture her so well, a woman she’d never met. I only had the one photograph, the one which sat on my grandfather’s desk. I had all the family portraits taken down just yesterday but I already know this one will be hung in a place of honor.
“I didn’t say it enough because it hurt to think too much about you but… I’ve missed you all this time. I wish you hadn’t had to go so soon,” I tell my mother’s portrait, unashamed of the way tears spill down my cheeks while my heart thunders with life. It’s not a stone at all. It’s a living, beating part of me and it’s overcome with love.
“Grandfather forced me to marry in order to keep you safe. I’m not sure if he was wise or just lucky but it’s turned out to be the best thing he ever did for me since the day he took a frightened young mother and his infant grandson in off the streets.”
My mother’s portrait maintains its serenely, knowing smile and, for all his desire to control my life, I thank Linus for the gift he’s given me by insisting that I marry. I will never forget what a gift my wife is.
Sitting on the easel with the portrait, I notice there’s a card, a flash card.
On one side in Daisy’s flowing handwriting, there’s a query -
What do I give the man who has everything?
On the other side, an answer –
Something to remember the mother who loved you first and your wife who will love you always ~ Daisy