“Don’t be foolish, Charles,” Roseann said worriedly. “You are a wonderful husband and father.”
“I love you all very much,” he said quietly. “But that’s just not enough. I haven’t been the head of my household, I haven’t led you in the right ways, I haven’t protected you, and I’m so very sorry.”
“This is about money, isn’t it,” Julienne stated. “You’re really worried about money.”
Darcy looked stubborn. “Father, why can’t you explain, really, what’s going on? I mean, we all know you’ve been talking about our lack of money, but I for one don’t understand what the problem is.”
“I’m the problem,” Charles said regretfully. “For at least three years now, we have been living beyond our means. I thought I was managing our affairs, I kept thinking that I would really force you all to stop spending so much money. But I didn’t. I just let things go, I was just too weak to face the problem and make the sacrifices required to fix it. Sometimes in my mind I blamed all of you for being too extravagant, but that’s wrong. This is all my fault. I should have taught you all better, and I should have made a way for us to have a good life without spending so much money.”
Julienne looked very unhappy and said in a low voice, “You did try to tell us, Papa. We just didn’t listen. But you sound so very somber. How bad is it?”
“It’s bad,” he said bluntly. “I had to mortgage the plantation, and in fact the bank made me a very good deal. But those storms the first of March . . .” His voice trailed off, and he grimaced with pain. Again he grabbed his left hand with his right, then rubbed his left arm.
Leah said, “This is ridiculous, Charles, sit down. You’re clearly ill. We can deal with this problem, but we don’t have to put you through this right now, tonight.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “No, Leah. I’ve been making excuses to myself for years now. I’m not excusing myself any more.” Setting his jaw, he continued, “The storms in early March, they flooded four hundred acres of the lower fields. For days we thought that the Mississippi had carved a new course, and that the acreage would be permanently underwater. But just this week the waters receded and went back to the regular course before those spring floods.”
Frowning, Darcy said, “So? What’s the problem?”
Charles answered sardonically, “Aside from the fact that I had to mortgage land owned free and clear by the Ashbys for almost a hundred years? Anyway, the problem is that those fields had been underwater too long, the soil is soured. They’re going to have to lay fallow this season.” Looking around the room, he could see that his family, except for his sister Leah, looked bewildered. It only reinforced his guilt, that he had allowed them to be so ignorant of how to manage a home and finances in an appropriate manner.
The pain in his arm increased, and he was short of breath. But Charles was so focused on trying to manage this crisis that he ignored these dire warnings. With difficulty he went on, “That means that we can’t plant four hundred acres, so we won’t have the profits on those acres, and the plantation is going to make much less money this year. When the bank realized this, they changed the terms of the mortgage. The monthly draw I’m going to be able to make against the plantation has been drastically reduced. And that means that we’ll have much, much less money every month. All of us are going to have to—”
It was a spasm of pain so severe it drew his left arm up into a painful cramp, and then his chest felt as if he had been struck by an iron weight, crushing all the breath out of him. He gasped, then crumpled to the floor.
Roseann, Darcy, and Julienne were all frozen, their eyes wide with shock. Leah jumped up, knelt beside him, then looked up and said in a sharp voice, “Julienne! Tell Caesar to go get the doctor! Right now!”
Julienne jerked upright as if she had been shocked, then, her face white with fear, she turned and ran out of the room.
DR. JEROME RANKIN HAD been the Ashby family doctor ever since Julienne could remember. He was a balding, short, stout man with a kind manner. When he arrived, Julienne felt completely reassured, because she believed that Dr. Rankin could do anything.
But her heart sank when he returned to the sitting room from her father’s bedroom. His face was grim, and he shook his head. “I’m so sorry, but I have to be honest with you. Charles is dying.”
He waited for it to sink in. Roseann’s face drained of all color, and she dropped her head and burst into tears. Darcy looked as if he were in shock. Leah took a sharp indrawn breath, then went to kneel beside Roseann and put her arms around her.
Julienne felt stunned, as if she had received a sharp blow to the head. Swallowing hard, she said faintly, “But . . . surely there is something you can do?”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But he’s had heart trouble for some time now. He instructed me never to tell any of you, and of course I held that confidence. I know this is a terrible shock to all of you, but I must tell you that Charles knew it was going to happen. It was just a question of when.”
“But how could he not tell us!” Julienne said shrilly. “He should have told us!”
He looked at her with his sweet expression. “Maybe so, maybe not. Charles believes that all of us are called home by the Lord in His time. He trusted in the Lord to take him when He was ready. And now Charles knows that it’s his time.”
“That’s right,” Leah said, lifting her head. Roseann’s sobs subsided, and she looked up. Standing up, Leah went on, “I knew that Charles was ill, and I suspected it was his heart. But any time I asked him about it, he just smiled and said, ‘The Lord Jesus gives me breath and life. When it’s time for me to go home to Him, then I’ll go.’” She stared hard down at Roseann, then Darcy, and then Julienne. “But I know my brother, and I know that even though he trusts the Lord with all his heart, he’s probably fighting hard.”
“Good!” said Julienne. “He’s strong, he could live!”
“Maybe,” Dr. Rankin said quietly. “But if he did, he’d be sick and crippled for whatever’s left of his life. He thinks it’s his time, Julienne, and I agree with him. But your aunt’s right. I’ve seen it so often before. It’s hard for good people to feel like they can let go of their responsibilities, they feel guilt, they worry about their loved ones. I know that you all know me and trust me. So I’ll tell you I think you should let him go.”
“No!” Julienne said vehemently.
Darcy still looked bewildered, and muttered, “No, no . . .”
Roseann stood up and wiped the tears from her face. “Dr. Rankin is right,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice. “Charles trusts the Lord with his life, and he’ll trust Him with his death. If he believes it’s time, we have to let him go. Both of you come with me now, and you, too, Leah. It’s time to say good-bye.”
They went up to their father’s bedroom and went inside. Immediately Roseann went to sit on the bed, while Darcy, Julienne, and Leah stood on the other side. Julienne saw how small her father looked, how sunken and gray was his face, and she could tell he was wracked with pain. The last bit of hope that he would live faded away.
Roseann traced his cheek with her hand and said, “Charles, my love? Can you hear me?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Oh, Roseann, my dearest love, I’m sorry, so—”
“No,” she said sternly. “Never be sorry. I’m so proud, and so blessed, to have you as my husband. You’re a wonderful father, a kind, loving, patient man. Listen to me, my love. Don’t worry. Don’t even think about us any more. The Lord is coming to take you home, and there you will have joy and rest and comfort forever. Please just close your eyes and look for Him, because I know He is very near to all of us right now.”
His dull eyes stayed riveted on her face as she spoke, and then he seemed to sag, his entire body went limp, and his face became peaceful. Roseann smiled and took his hand.
Choking back a sob, Julienne said, “It’s all right, Papa. I’ll read to her from now on. I—I’ve always loved you, Papa. So much.”
He nodded slightly. “Darcy, take care of your mother and your aunt and your sisters.”
“Yes, sir,” Darcy said bleakly. “Father, I—I love you very much.”
“I know,” Charles said. Very little life was in him as he looked at Leah. “Thank you, sister.”
“No, thank you for giving me a family when I lost mine, beloved brother,” she said. “The Lord will bless you for it.”
He turned back to Roseann. “Love you, Roseann. Love you.”
“I love you, my darling,” she whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”
They all stayed there, watching him. He gazed at Roseann for a long time, and miraculously she just looked back into his eyes, smiling. His eyes fluttered, closed; his breathing became shallow, very light breaths, each one farther apart from the other.
And then Charles Ashby went home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julienne left her mother’s bedroom and went to the sitting room. She sat down on the plump sofa and slumped down, letting her head rest against the back of the sofa. A grim smile played on her face when she recalled the last time her Aunt Leah had seen her with her back touching the back of a seat. But she knew her aunt wouldn’t catch her this time, for she and Leah were taking turns caring for Roseann, and Leah had just gone up to let Julienne rest for awhile. She was exhausted.
Carley came in to sit by Julienne. “Are you too tired to take me for a walk?” she asked. Ever since Charles’s death she had clung to Julienne and Leah. Though Roseann had been magnificent in Charles’s last moments, and had borne the two days aftermath and then the funeral with her head held high, immediately after that she had collapsed, and had been virtually bedridden ever since. But though she was Carley’s mother and Carley loved her dearly, she had always been closer to Julienne and her Aunt Leah, and even Tyla.
“I’m so sorry, Carley, but I am just exhausted. Maybe if I could just rest for about an hour, I’ll be able to take you out for awhile before dinner. Will that be all right?” Julienne said.
“I guess so. Would you—could you please let me take a nap with you?” she pleaded. “I promise, I won’t fidget, I’ll be quiet and still.”
Julienne put her arm around her and hugged her close. “Of course you can. I’d like that. Just let me sit here for a minute, then we’ll go upstairs.”
They sat for a few moments in silence, just hugging each other. Then Caesar came in and stood just inside the door, his head dropped. He and Libby had grieved over Charles Ashby’s death almost as much as the family had. “Miss Julienne, I’m awful sorry to bother you, but me and Libby thought we’d better tell someone.”
“Go ahead, Caesar,” Julienne said, sitting straight up as ladies should, and folding her hands serenely on her lap.
He fidgeted, then looked up with a woeful expression. “The butcher, he won’t sell us any more meat on account. And this morning the dairyman told us that after this week we’ll have to go on a cash paying basis.”
Julienne blinked, her mind reeling. After an awkward silence, as Caesar refused to meet her eyes, she managed to say calmly, “All right, Caesar, I’ll take care of it. Would you please get the buggy ready to go to town? I’m going to write a letter, and I’ll need you to take it to Mr. Preston Gates at Planter’s Bank.”
“Sure, sure, Miss Julienne,” he said. “I’ll just go hitch her up and bring her around. You send Libby out with that letter when you finish.”
“Thank you, Caesar.” He left, obviously relieved.
Troubled, Carley asked, “Julienne? Can’t we have steak any more?” Aside from black licorice, beefsteak was Carley’s favorite foods.
She turned to her and took her hand. “Of course we will, Carley. It’s just that since Father passed away, it has sort of confused the shopkeepers that we buy from. I know that Mr. Gates is taking care of things right now, and he hasn’t called because we’re in mourning. But don’t worry, I’m going to send a note asking him to come talk to me and Aunt Leah, and we’ll get this all straightened out.”
THE NEXT AFTERNOON CAESAR showed Preston Gates into the parlor, where Leah and Julienne waited for him. He bowed over their hands and said sincerely, “Please accept my deepest condolences for your loss. Charles was a good man, an honorable man, and I counted him as a friend. He will be sorely missed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Julienne said. “Please, sit down.”
He took his seat on a wingchair across from them and glanced around. “Is Mr. Darcy Ashby here?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Julienne answered evenly. “Mr. Gates, I appreciate that you are hesitant to discuss business with us, considering that we are in mourning. But already some questions regarding the family’s finances have arisen. My aunt and I will be responsible for managing our affairs from now on, so I’m sure you understand that we need you to help us figure out our financial situation now.”
He nodded, and his sharp features reflected a deep uneasiness. “I wish I had good news, but I’m afraid I don’t.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Leah said quietly, “Mr. Gates, we already knew that the house is mortgaged, and Charles was just telling us about some of the plantation business, including the fact that he had mortgaged it, when he fell ill. I just want you to understand that we both understand that we’re in some financial straits, and you are not going to cause us to have the vapors by what you tell us.”
“I don’t think that,” he said. “I think that both of you ladies are smart and capable. It’s just that—Charles’s early death is so tragic, and not only for the obvious reasons. You see, Ashby Plantation is a highly profitable enterprise, and the bank had no problems with mortgaging it, because we know that we would be paid back, that the risk was very low. But now, you see, without Charles, that risk has suddenly become very high. I’m afraid that the bank is going to be obliged to foreclose the mortgage.”
Both Leah and Julienne grew utterly still. Gates sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked down at his restless hands. After long moments Julienne said in a choked voice, “Are you—are you saying that we’re losing the plantation? That the bank is taking it away from us?”
Without looking up, he murmured, “We don’t have a choice. A little over ten thousand dollars is owed on a twenty-thousand-dollar mortgage, Miss Ashby. The bank couldn’t possibly extend the rest of the money to your family, because there is no one to run the plantation. And so we will have to foreclose.”
Now even Leah looked shaken. Julienne’s face worked, as she struggled to control the tremendous anger rising in her as his words sunk in. She swallowed hard, took a deep ragged breath, and said in a voice so hard it barely resembled her own, “If I understand what you are saying, Mr. Gates, it is that the bank is getting a rich plantation for about ten thousand dollars. You will sell it, I know, for at least six times that much. The Ashbys will lose what has been their home for almost a hundred years, and you knew this, and you let me bury my father there! How could you! How dare you!”
Leah said sharply, “Julienne, be quiet. This is not Mr. Gates’s decision alone. He has to answer to his Board of Directors, and they make these decisions, not him. Your father knew this when he did business with them, and that’s what it is. It’s business.”
Julienne’s anger waned, then her face crumpled and she buried it in her hands.
Gates looked up and looked at Leah gratefully. Then regretfully he said, “I am so very sorry, Miss Julienne, Mrs. Norris. I know it is cold comfort, but I did try to get the Board to approve signing the mort
gage over to your mother, because everything was left to her, you know. But they wouldn’t even consider it.”
Julienne looked up, her face ashen. “Please accept my apologies, Mr. Gates. Of course I know my aunt is right, and I know that you are—were a good friend to my father. I’m so very sorry for speaking to you the way I did.”
“Please, please,” he said uncomfortably, making an awkward waving gesture with one hand. “I understand, and I don’t blame you, Miss Ashby. In fact, I agree with you, because I still feel responsible. The whole situation has grieved me terribly.”
Leah sighed deeply. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Gates. So, where are we now? I mean, what is the whole situation?”
“The problem is that the payments on the mortgage are three hundred dollars a month, and the family expenses have been running about eight hundred dollars,” he answered gravely.
“Over a thousand dollars a month?” Leah blurted out. “Oh, no, Charles confided in me some, but I had no idea it was that bad!”
Julienne frowned. “I don’t understand. How are we to live? What can we do?”
“You have no choice, Miss Julienne. In fact, this is what your father was considering doing anyway. You’re going to have to sell this house and sell the carriages and horses, and find a smaller place to live. From now on I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn to make do with much less.”
Stricken, Julienne was silent, so Leah asked, “And will that give us enough income, sir, to perhaps invest a principal and live off the interest?”
“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Norris,” he answered. He seemed to have made up his mind to stop trying to spare their feelings, for he went on somberly, “I have already taken the liberty of doing some research to find out how much the house might sell for, and even at the best price we can expect, it will barely cover the mortgage and all of your outstanding debts.
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