Five Sisters (A Romantic Suspense Novel)

by Leen Elle

  Nathaniel nodded, "That's probably it."

  Gail gave a small smile and responded, as she always did, "And any news from the dungeon, Mr. West?"

  "Well," Nathaniel stated in a deep, professional voice, "Besides visits from a rust-haired girl and a gray-haired man, things have been rather wearisome in the room occupied by Mr. Nathaniel John West. There's still a terrible amount of water visible outside his window and just a small sliver of the sky. The books haven't moved tremendously since you last stopped in and the medicine in these sparkling little bottles has slowly been draining away. Our occupant, Mr. West, maintains that he can still find a slight amount of enjoyment in reading old newspapers and can't wait for the day this old ship arrives in Wickensville and he can update his growing collection. But until then he is finding that although she may be a naïve, petulant little girl, Miss Abigail Ellen St. James provides a scant amount of amusement he is most thankful for."

  Gail grinned, "Thank you for the update."

  "You're very welcome," Nathaniel replied, pushing the chunks of tomato out of his sauce, "Do you know what I was thinking about today?"

  "What's that?"

  "I wonder what'll happen when I die."

  Gail dropped her fork and looked up with wide eyes. That wasn't the sort of statement one likes to hear from a sick man, "What do you mean?"

  Nathaniel continued casually, "Well, I wonder if I'll be put in a graveyard. I wonder what they'll write on my tomb. Who'll show up at the funeral? Will my parents? Will anyone even cry or will they all be silently thanking God for answering their prayers? I mean . . ."

  "Nathaniel!" Gail exclaimed, "What in the world are you talking about? Who would ever thank God when they find out you're dead?"

  "Plenty of people, I'm sure. My parents, my nurses. I'm sure they all just think of me as a nuisance they're forced to take care of. So they'll probably be throwing parties upon my grave."

  "Don't say such a terrible thing!"

  "But it's true." Gail raised an eyebrow at him, to which Nathaniel continued, "Well, perhaps they won't do all that. Actually, now that I think about it, they probably won't even come to the funeral. They won't want to take the time to do so. And they'll probably all be happy that they don't have to bother with me anymore."

  "But you're their son!"

  "That's never mattered much to them before."

  Gail sighed, "Oh it's really useless to try and argue with you."

  Nathaniel chomped into his bread before adding, "But if you and I are still acquaintances at the time of my death, will you promise me something?"

  "What's that?"

  "Don't let them drag me away to a cemetery, throw my body into some hole, and stick a slab of marble on top that says something silly and untrue. Tell them to just burn me up and throw me into a river," he scratched his head, as though thinking rather deeply, "Or rather, just tell them to do whatever will take the least amount of effort. I don't want everyone going all out of their way to buy me a gravestone and a coffin and a spot at St. Joseph's. I'll be dead, so I really don't think I'll care if I'm rotting away in a padded oak box or burnt to a crisp."

  "But don't you want people to remember you? To come to your grave and weep and say 'Boy, I'm going to miss that guy.' Or bring you flowers on your birthday?"

  "No, no. I don't want any of that," Nathaniel grinned, "In fact, you bring up another excellent point, my dear. I don't want anyone to bring me anything. Don't spend your well-earned money buying a bunch of silly flowers for a man who's dead. I've never understood why people do that. If someone's dead, they're really not going to care if you stick a bouquet over their rotting corpse."

  "But don't you want to look down from heaven and see that people actually miss and care about you?"

  Nathaniel chuckled, "Do you actually think that I am going to fly up to heaven and meet the big man himself? And he'll place some wings on my back and a halo over my head and send me off to play amongst the clouds?" he laughed harder, "At the rate I'm going, God won't even look at me before sending me straight down to Mr. Hades. And I don't think you can look up at people from hell; it doesn't work that way. But if you can, I wouldn't want to see people placing flowers on my stomach anyway. I'd think they were all a bunch of fools for wasting their money and taking the time to weep over someone who really doesn't care. It's silly."

  Gail sighed, "Whatever you say."

  "So you'll take care of all that for me, Gaily?"

  "I suppose so."

  "Good. So now that that's taken care of, do you want to play Rummy?"

  The following morning, Emy and Gail had just woken up, but neither felt ready to dress or head upstairs just yet and they were simply relaxing beneath the blankets of their beds. Mary and Nora were already preparing the sailors' breakfast and Sara was taking a walk around the deck.

  Emy rolled over to face Gail, "Shall we head upstairs now? I'm sure everyone's wondering what's keeping us."

  Gail pulled her covers up over her face and shook her head quickly, "No, not yet. Just a bit longer. It's so nice and warm under here."

  Emy nodded, "And so cold and windy on deck."

  "Any idea what's wrong with Sara?"

  "No. Or Mary?"

  "No," Gail paused, "And have you noticed that Charlie's been acting strangely too? He's a bit quiet than usual and he just sits in his office all day, letting Sawyer take over with the steering wheel. That's not like him at all."

  "I hadn't noticed," Emy replied, "But I'll keep an eye out today."

  "It seems like everyone's been acting strangely lately, doesn't it?"

  Emy nodded, "And I haven't any idea why."

  "Me neither."

  "How much longer till we arrive in Brighton?"

  "Quite a bit. I think we're only halfway there," Gail informed her sister, "Charlie says that storm delayed us a bit."

  "I can't wait to be on land again."

  "But won't you miss the sailors?"

  "Of course, but we have to part sometime."

  Gail nodded, "I suppose you're right."

  At that moment, a flurry of movement could be heard outside the bedroom door. They'd been hearing things across the hall all morning, but couldn't distinguish what the voices were saying.

  Suddenly, their door opened and Charlie entered, looking just as tired as always. And if it were possible, he looked a bit older as well. His hair seemed to have grown grayer and his clothes looked even shabbier than they usually did.

  "Still in bed, I see?" he said with a forced smile.

  "We're just so tired," Emy moaned.

  "But we'll get up soon," promised Gail.

  "Actually, I was hoping you'd get up right now, Gail," Charlie scratched his head, "You see, Nathaniel is . . . Well, he's not doing very well. Something must have happened during the night, because when I went in to check on him this morning, he was so weak he could barely lift his head off the pillow."

  As Gail listened, she jumped out of bed, slipped on a pair of slippers, and pulled on a warm sweater over her nightdress. Charlie quickly headed out the door with Gail close behind, leaving Emy alone in the bedroom.

  Only moments upon entering, Gail instantly knew something was wrong with Nathaniel. The stench of his room, filled with strong medicines and the smell of an invalid, had grown so strong Charlie and Gail could barely breathe. Nathaniel was lying beneath the covers, growing paler by the minute and sweating furiously even though the room wasn't very warm. Locks of wet, black hair stuck to his forehead and his lips were dry and cracked. Dark shadows, even darker than Charlie's, sat beneath his coal gray eyes and the red veins in his eyes had become shockingly apparent.

  Charlie swallowed, "Er . . . I thought he might want to see you, Gail. If anything gets worse, let me know and we'll see what we can do, alright?"

  Gail nodded, but didn't exactly know what to say.

  Charlie left the room and Gail slowly walked around the side of Nathaniel's bed and sat down in her usual chair.

&nb
sp; "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  Nathaniel gave one of smallest, most feeble smiles Gail had even seen and replied in a soft, hoarse voice, "Absolutely wonderful. In fact, I've never felt better."

  Gail couldn't return his grin, but asked, "Is there anything I can get for you? Water? Food? Medicine? Anything?"

  He shook his head no.

  "Do you have any idea what's wrong?"

  He shook his head again, "I haven't a clue. But it's certainly not very pleasant."

  Gail blinked twice, "What do you want me to do?"

  "Nothing."

  "But . . ."

  "Nothing. Just sit here with me."

  "You didn't say the magic word."

  Instead of arguing like he normally would, Nathaniel simply replied in his weak voice, "Please, Gail?" And that made her more depressed than if he'd made a contentious remark in reply.

  She pulled a book out of the shelf beside his bed and began to read aloud for him. And although Nathaniel didn't thank her, she knew he was grateful for her company. At lunchtime, when his hand was still so weak he couldn't lift his glass to his mouth without trembling and spilling the tea, Gail did it for him. Throughout the day, his temperature would change dramatically. One moment, he'd be sweating tremendously and the next he'd been shivering with blue lips. When he fell asleep shaking from the cold, Gail covered him in a blanket, and when he woke and grew so hot that he was sweating bullets, Gail wiped off his forehead with a cool cloth.

  Just before he finally drifted off to sleep, Nathaniel whispered, "Remember what we talked about yesterday?"

  "You mean, about your death?"

  Nathaniel nodded, almost looking delirious. His eyes met hers, but she got the feeling that he wasn't looking at her, but past her at the wall. It seemed he couldn't even see her. Not truly. It was as if he were speaking to her in a dream.

  Gail swallowed, "Of course, what about it?"

  "If I can look up from hell," he said softly, his eyes barely open, "I think I'd like to see you weeping for me. Just once. Then perhaps I'd know that my life hadn't been a complete waste . . ."

  And with that, he drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 19

  Ignoring Sawyer

  The next few days were torture for Sara. She lulled around the ship, heartbroken and forlorn. When around her sisters she tried not to let it show and forced herself to be merry and smile, but it was no use. They knew her too well to be fooled by her attempt. Mary tried to find out what was troubling her, but Sara denied that anything was wrong.

  At dinner, Sara sat silently in her spot beside Charlie. Her eyes were glued to the floor, for whenever they met Charlie's she felt them fill with tears. She only spoke to him when she absolutely had to, and even then her voice was so soft she could barely hear herself speak.

  The nights were far worse though. She'd lie awake in bed for hours. So many thoughts swarmed inside her head that sleep simply would not overcome her.

  Little did she know, in the room just next-door Charlie was awake as well. He'd tried everything in the world to get himself to fall back asleep- counting sheep, saying the numbers one through two hundred, clearing his mind- but nothing worked. He got out of bed and began to pace the floor, hoping that might tire him out, but it didn't.

  Sara heard floorboards creak and they were coming from the direction of Charlie's room. She knew he must be up as well, and sighed mournfully. If he obviously was thinking about her and she was thinking of him, then why shouldn't they be together?

  Charlie headed out of his room and up the stairs to get a cup of tea; Sara longed to follow him, but didn't.

  Within minutes Charlie was drinking a cup of warm tea on the sofa in his office. These past few days hadn't been easy for him either. There were moments when he felt that perhaps Sara was right. Perhaps he had a right to be happy. Perhaps he shouldn't have denied her. Perhaps he should have taken the chance.

  But then he'd remember times in the past that instantly proved to change his mind again. He remembered meeting Sara when she was just a child, and the thought of Roy and Amelia knowing that he'd fallen in love with that dark-haired little girl was a horror. If that sight alone didn't dissuade him, he'd look at the bills on his desk and he'd remember that he hadn't any money to care of her or support her. And if even that thought didn't change his mind, he'd take a look in the mirror.

  Lately, ever since he'd started to become distressed over Sara, it seemed that his hair was becoming grayer and his wrinkles more distinct. He'd never been more aware of his age. And when he thought of Sara- with her shiny dark hair, deep brown eyes, and youthful, smooth skin- he knew that she deserved someone who was as young and lively as she.

  If only Sara was not the daughter of Charlie's old friend. If only she wasn't quite so young and he wasn't quite so old. If only the bills could pay themselves and he didn't have to worry about the money it would take to support a family. If only these wrinkles and gray hairs would disappear and his garments didn't look quite so withered and patched.

  If only.

  But, as Charlie soon remembered, it wouldn't do to dwell on what could never be. And so, he decided to try his hardest from now on to push all thoughts of her out of his mind.

  *****

  "Ben, could you please pass the bread?" Nora asked the next night at dinner, batting her eyelashes as coquettishly as she could, despite the fact that her heart was pounding straight out of her chest.

  "Er . . . of course," Ben said with a full mouth, looking around for the basket of rolls. But Emy had it in her hands before he'd found it.

  "Here, I'm closer, I'll get it for you," she said, passing it over to her sister.

  Nora scowled, wishing that Ben had handed her the bread, but she couldn't blame Emy for what she didn't know. Emy barely noticed anything these days, she realized; she always seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Buttering the bread she didn't have the appetite for, Nora shoved a piece in her mouth and gazed longingly down the table at Ben again.

  A few of the men at the end of the table rose, saying they were finished with the meal and left to go out on deck. Noah was one of these men. As he passed in front of Mary, Sara was sure she saw him wink. Mary replied with a small smile and a nod. Sara quickly looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed the interaction but her. Perhaps she was imagining things. Or perhaps not . . .

  She stood up and began clearing the men's empty plates and Emy rose to help her. Nora was practically drooling on the table as she stared at Ben eat an extra helping of cranberry sauce, so she didn't bother to help her sisters. And Gail wasn't present at the table at all; she was downstairs sitting with poor Nathaniel, whose health hadn't improved one bit in the past two days. In fact, it had only worsened.

  When Mary rose, Sara was sure she was going to help as well, but instead she told Sara that she would like to be excused. Sara watched her leave with an air of curiosity. Although she considered following, she quickly realized how doubtful it was that Mary would be doing anything odd and she continued clearing the table.

  *****

  Mary's heart began to race just as it had several nights before as she searched around the ship for Noah. He wasn't on the deck, and he wasn't in Charlie's office. He wasn't in the lavatory and he wasn't in the men's bedroom nor Charlie's. Mary didn't bother to look in Nathaniel's room, for obvious reasons, but was surprised when Noah could also not be found in the girls' bedroom.

  Then, all of the sudden, the door in the back of the room caught her eye. Charlie had told her that the backroom was used for storage, so she'd never bothered to take a look inside. Cautiously, she turned the door knob and took a few steps in whispering, "Noah?"

  The room was dark and rather uninviting, and when Mary felt a hand wrap around her waist she was so alarmed she almost screamed. Before she could, however, another hand was open her mouth. When it was removed, she felt his lips upon her own. She let Noah kiss her for a few seconds before pulling away to kick the door shut.
/>   Without the light of the bedroom, the entire storage room was pitch black. The only light came from two tiny strips above and below the doorway, but they didn't provide enough to see by. Mary couldn't see Noah at all, though he was standing only inches away and she was squinting her eyes for a better look. She was just about to suggest that they find a light of go somewhere else when she felt Noah's lips on her neck. His touch seemed to silence her.

  Although she couldn't see him, she felt his hands on her arms, holding them down, as he made a line of kisses from her mouth down to her chest. He let go for a moment to move a few boxes out of the way, for although the wooden crates weren't visible Mary knew they must be all around her. With a sudden force, Noah pushed her against the wall, pinning her down beneath him. Mary so often loved to be in control of everything and everyone, but it felt wonderful to give herself over to Noah's strong arms and not have to think about anything. Not even her fiancé, Ethan . . .

  *****

  In the room just across the hall, Gail was sitting beside poor Nathaniel, who was violently coughing into an old handkerchief. His skin was as pale as milk and his once sparkling gray eyes were placid, like two frozen lakes in winter.

  Gail had been reading to him all day, whatever books she could get her hands on. Sometimes it felt as though she were reciting the words for no reason at all and she wondered if Nathaniel was even listening to her, but then she realized that it didn't even matter. If he wanted her to stay, she would. And if he wanted her to read for him, she would. For even if he wasn't listening to her words, she knew he appreciated her company and that was all that mattered.