Gastien: From Dream to Destiny: A Caddy Rowland Historical Family Saga/Drama (The Gastien Series Book 2)

by Caddy Rowland

  “Gastien, what is wrong? You look ill!” she asked.

  “Oui, I think I have come down with something. You better leave, Sophie. I don’t want you sick. I will be fine.”

  “Oh, non I am not going to let you lie here alone with a fever! Get in bed, Gastien Beauchamp, where you belong! I will make some warm broth for you.”

  “Sophie, don’t stay. It is nothing. I just need some rest – ” he broke off in a severe coughing spasm.

  “That does not sound like ‘nothing’! I am staying, and that is that! Now get in bed. If you are not better tomorrow, I am going to get a doctor.”

  Gastien tried to smile. “There is usually nothing I like better than being ordered to bed by a woman. Not even that sounds appealing to me right now.”

  “Then you are quite sick because that certainly is not like you,” retorted Sophie, trying to make a joke of it.

  Gastien did not argue. He simply got into bed.

  When Mic came home, Sophie went out and asked him to go let Tristan Michel know that his father was ill; he should not come to see them for dinner tomorrow. She would be staying until Gastien was better. Sophie did not want Tristan Michel getting sick before the end of school. Mic yelled in at Gastien to take care of himself, then took off for Odette’s.

  By late that night, it was obvious that this was more than a cold. Gastien was burning with a fever and at times did not know where he was. He complained that his whole body ached. More than once, he claimed that his head was going to explode. The cough grew worse and worse; yet it stayed dry, producing nothing.

  At dawn, Sophie decided to get a doctor. She heard Mic up and moving about, so she yelled up the stairs.

  “Mic! Mic, can you hear me?” she called.

  Mic opened his door and looked down at her. “Oui, I can hear you. You look exhausted! I bet you were up all night. I could hear the coughing. How is Gaz?”

  “He is not well, Mic. He is much worse. I am very worried! He has a horrible cough, and is delirious at times. I think he needs a doctor.”

  “Would you like me to get one? I can understand you not wanting to leave him alone.” Mic was now very worried.

  “Would you? That would be very kind of you!” Sophie said, relieved. “Please, tell him to hurry! I think the fever is quite high.”

  She returned to Gastien, who was now curled up; shaking violently from chills.

  “Gastien? It will be all right. I am here. Mic is getting a doctor. Can you talk to me?”

  Shivering, Gastien answered, “Oui. Oh, mon Dieu, I am sick. I feel awful! My chest, it hurts badly.”

  Another round of coughing started up. Sophie thought Gastien’s chest would collapse before he finished coughing. Still nothing came up.

  “Sophie, it even hurts to breathe,” he rasped.

  The doctor arrived to check Gastien over.

  “I am afraid that he has pneumonia. We must get the coughing stopped,” the doctor said.

  “How can we do that?” Sophie asked.

  “Opium, in the form of laudanum. I will tell you how much to administer.”

  That really scared Sophie.

  “He had an opiate problem. I hate to reintroduce that.”

  “It can’t be helped. If we don’t get this coughing stopped, along with some food in him, he will die. Feed him eggs, broth, and warm milk, as much as you can get down him. Also, please use the laudanum, two grains every four hours in a tablespoon of brandy. And milk punch. That is warm milk with a tiny bit of whiskey in it. Do not put too much in it! Opium and alcohol together can kill him, if he overdoses. Follow my directions very carefully.”

  The doctor gave Gastien some laudanum. Soon his coughing had stopped, and he was calmer.

  The doctor promised, “I will check back tonight and again daily. If he gets worse, please notify me immediately.”

  “Doctor, will he be ok?” asked Sophie. She could not keep her voice from cracking.

  “I don’t know. Each individual is different when it comes to pneumonia. It will just depend upon how strong his heart and lungs are. Let’s hope we treated him on time. You should see reddish brown matter come up when he coughs, in a few days. The coughing should lessen because of the laudanum, but we do want some to occur to clear those lungs. Do not be concerned with the color, it is from mild bleeding..unless it comes up bright red. If that occurs, send for me immediately.”

  “He can’t die, doctor! Oh, please, we can’t let him die!”

  “It is up to God, dear woman. Just stay by his side, taking care of him as best you can. By the way, are you taking oregano oil?”

  “Non! I had not thought of it. I have been too concerned.”

  “Well, I will leave you some. Let’s hope that keeps you from being sick, although it would have been much more effective had you taken it before coming into contact with him.”

  “Oui. I did not know he was sick until I arrived.”

  “I understand.”

  Sophie was faithful to the doctor’s instructions. For that day and the next, Gastien’s fever did not break. Finally, on Friday, it did. His cough started producing matter. The doctor adjusted the amount of laudanum, so that Gastien could cough more often and clear his lungs.

  By Sunday it was looking good for a full recovery. He was extremely weak and still coughing, but up and able to walk around. He knew Sophie was torn between him and getting back home to see Tristan Michel. She had been at the studio for five days.

  “Sophie, it is fine for you to go home now. Go home to our son. You can get a good night’s sleep in your bed, without listening to me coughing. I am coming around. In fact, I suggest that you take a few days off and rest, so that you don’t fall ill. Will you do that?”

  Sophie agreed, saying she would stop by her employers before going home.

  “I will also stop by and tell Mic to come and get me if things get worse again, Gastien. I hate leaving you, but I want to make sure Tristan Michel is all right. I could use some sleep, too. I will stop by toward the end of the week.”

  Gastien waved at her, not wanting to kiss her while he was ill. “Je t’aime, Sophi-belle. Merci for taking care of me. “

  “You are welcome, Gastien. I am so thankful that you recovered! I don’t know what I would do without you,” she said, choking up.

  “Don’t cry, Sophie. I am better now. You just make sure you don’t get sick! I don’t know what I would do without you, either. Now, there is a cabriolet out there, so get on home and get some rest!”

  Over the next three days, Gastien got stronger as his cough decreased. The pain in his chest was almost gone, and his fever had been gone for several days. Sophie had fixed him some food, so he was able to find something to eat in the icebox whenever hungry.

  When Thursday arrived, Gastien thought that he would probably see Sophie at some point that day. The evening came without Sophie appearing at all. He was surprised, but not overly concerned. She was probably exhausted!

  When it was noon on Friday, he became worried. Why hadn’t Sophie come to see him? Surely by now she would have wanted to check on him. He was still weak, but he had washed his hair and bathed that morning, thinking that certainly this day would not go by without Sophie coming.

  XXIII

  Gastien finally walked over to the flower shop where Sophie worked, to inquire if the owner had heard from his wife. She said that yesterday morning Sophie’s aunt had sent a message that Sophie was ill. She would not be in until further notice.

  “You were not told, Gastien?” she asked. She was shocked that the family had not contacted him.

  Gastien was livid. “Non. I was not told.”

  “Well, perhaps Odette did not want to worry you while you were recovering…”

  “Merci for the information,” Gastien called as he hurried out of the shop. He found Mic at the park and told him that Sophie was sick.

  “Odette did not even let me know! I am going over there, Mic. That is where I will be until she gets better. “ />
  “I understand, Gaz. I hope she is not as sick as you were.” Seeing his ami’s worried face, he added, “I am sure she will be fine. I will come and see you tomorrow for an update.”

  Gastien found a cabriolet quickly, imploring the driver to get to Odette’s as fast as possible. It seemed like the man sleepwalked through the streets. Gastien’s heart was pounding. His Sophie was ill! How could he not have been told?

  Arriving at Odette’s he jumped out, paid quickly, and then ran up the walk. He almost hit Odette in the face when she opened the door, with his frantic pounding.

  She looked surprised to see him. “Gastien!”

  “WHERE IS SHE? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME SHE IS ILL?” he yelled.

  “Don’t yell! We simply did not feel it was necessary. You were just getting over pneumonia. We did not want to worry you.” Then Odette started sobbing. “SHE IS VERY SICK, AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT! SHE GOT SICK FROM YOU, GASTIEN, FROM TAKING CARE OF YOU! I KNEW YOU WERE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE! YOU DON’T DESERVE TO SEE HER!” She blocked the entrance with her body. Gastien pushed her to the side and strode in.

  “SOPHIE? SOPHI-BELLE?” he cried as he crossed to Sophie’s room. When he entered, he was struck with how warm and dark it was. Tristan Michel was sitting next to Sophie’s bed, holding his mother’s hand and quietly crying.

  “Gastien?” croaked Sophie. Then she broke into a long cough.

  As he hurried over to her, he noticed that she looked even smaller than before. Mon Dieu, there was nothing to her!

  “Gastien! I knew you would come. Odette said you were here, but I knew you weren’t.” It was her voice that was now a horrible rasp.

  Gastien sank onto the bed next to her, holding her in his arms. “I am here, Sophie. My dearest love, I am here. Do you feel my arms around you now?” he said gently.

  “Oui, I do, Gastien. I knew you would come,” she whispered. She tilted her head to kiss him. He noticed how blue her lips looked, the dark circles under her eyes. He kissed her, shivering because her lips were actually cold; but she was burning up. He could feel her ribs beneath his fingers. It seemed that she was weightless.

  “When did she last eat?” he asked Odette.

  “She has not kept anything down for three days.”

  “Well, make her some soup!” snapped Gastien. “She must get her strength back! Did you get a doctor?”

  “Of course! I am not an idiot!” retorted Odette.

  “Well, get him back here! Now!” He turned to Sophie. “Things are going to turn around, Sophie. You will get better, but you must eat. You and Tristan Michel are going to move in with me, remember? Remember, Sophie?”

  Sophie coughed violently, but nodded her head. “Oui. I will move in. Je t’aime, Gastien. Will you hold me?”

  Gastien suddenly felt raw fear.

  “I AM holding you Sophie! Can’t you feel me?”

  She blinked and smiled. “Of course! Of course. You are always holding me in your arms, aren’t you, Gastien?”

  He held her close to his chest, cradling her head in his hands, his face in her hair. “Mon Dieu, Je t’aime, Sophie. I will warm you up. Please, Sophie, you must stay strong.”

  She looked up at him then, and her face lit up with love. “Je t’aime, Gastien Beauchamp. Je t’aime. Forever.”

  “Sophie I – “ as he looked at her, a horrible coughing spell began.

  All of a sudden, her radiance seemed to fade. As the light left her face, he felt her last struggling breath. He knew as he held her that she was suddenly gone.

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he yelled. “NON! NON! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Gastien clutched Sophie to himself, screaming over and over, “YOU CAN’T DIE, SOPHIE, YOU CAN’T DIE! NOOOOO! YOU CAN’T LEAVE US!”

  Odette was wailing. Tristan Michel was sobbing, gulping for breath. He vowed to himself that he would never let go of his mother’s hand.

  Odette tried to pry Gastien away. “LET HER GO! SHE IS GONE! GASTIEN, SHE IS GONE AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT! GET OUT!!!

  The Dream Lost

  I

  Gastien still held Sophie as he looked up at Odette. His face was covered in tears. An icy coldness entered his heart; he became strangely numb. Odette was looking at him with such hate! His son’s eyes were full of accusation, too.

  Gastien realized that they would take over the funeral arrangements if he left the house. They would leave him out completely.

  Well, that was not going to happen. It was his responsibility, and his right, to take care of final preparations for Sophie. He would see to it that they were done respectfully, without bickering.

  He calmly disengaged himself from Sophie’s body. Wiping his face with his hands, he arranged her peacefully. He kissed her before finally shutting her eyes. He felt faint knowing they would never open again. He kissed her once more and turned away. Sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, he listened to the sobs of his son.

  He looked up and into his son’s eyes. “Son, do you want to be alone with your mother’s body for a little while?”

  Tristan Michel was shaking. He whispered, “Please get out. Both of you! Just…go away for a while and leave me alone.”

  Odette moved toward him, but Gastien put out his arm to stop her.

  “You heard my son. He wants to be alone. Please respect that.” Gastien stood, indicating that Odette should leave ahead of him. She hesitated briefly, and then left. Gastien followed behind.

  When they got in the other room, Gastien turned to her.

  “I expect to be able to make these final arrangements for my wife without being hindered. I hope that you will put your feelings toward me aside long enough that we can give Sophie a burial that is respectful. I don’t want any bitter or hateful emotional outbursts. If you can’t promise that, I will have the body moved to my studio. Do you understand?”

  Odette’s face grew purple. She opened her mouth to protest. Seeing the look of resolve on Gastien’s face, she wisely toned it down. “Why do you feel that you have the right to make these decisions? She lived here more than with you,” she asked.

  “I don’t feel that I have those rights, I know that I do. I have the piece of paper to prove it. Sophie and I were husband and wife, Odette. We loved each other very much. Please allow me the peaceful conducting of this very sad affair, so that I can fulfill my duties as her husband.”

  He swallowed hard, drew a shaky breath, and continued. “She loved me, Odette. You know that. She loved me, and I loved her. Will you please help me, so that I can get through this without breaking down? I don’t know how long I will hold up before I fall completely apart. I will try to hold on until after the burial. But, please, until then, just let me be. Try to work with me.”

  Odette nodded stiffly. “What would you like me to do first?”

  “I would like you to go get the doctor, so that he can pronounce Sophie dead. Next, please get the priest. We will speak to him about arrangements together. I will stay here and comfort Tristan Michel as best as I can. Have one of your amies contacted by the church office, so that she can begin letting Sophie’s amies, and your relatives, know.“

  “All right. Is there anything else before I go?”

  “Oui, please send a cabriolet to get my ami, Mic. He can be found either painting at Place du Tertre or at home, above my studio. I need to talk to him.” Gastien turned away. “If you will begin now with those things, I will go and talk to my son. Merci.”

  Gastien hesitated outside of Sophie’s room. He dreaded going into that dark, sad place. Tristan Michel was in there alone, though. Gastien knew that his son needed comforting. Preparing himself, he entered. His heart would just have to wait until later to completely break.

  Tristan Michel was curled up next to Sophie with his face buried against her chest, still crying. Gastien went around to the other side of the bed, where he gathered Sophie under his arms, moving her over. Then he motioned for Tristan Michel to move along with her.

  Gastien
walked back around, stretching out on the bed next to his son. Turning, he slipped his arm under Sophie’s neck, His other arm went around Tristan Michel. Then, he buried his face in his son’s hair and cried. Rubbing his son’s arm, he simply cried. After several minutes, Gastien could still feel Tristan Michel shaking against him.

  “Son, the doctor will be here soon; so will the priest. We will need to get off the bed then, and let the doctor pronounce your mother dead. After that, I need to talk to the priest about funeral arrangements.”

  “I know it will be difficult, but try to pull yourself together. You can go outside if you don’t want to hear those arrangements. If you feel you would like to be involved, just say so. I can’t guess what you want, so you have to tell me. I will support your decision either way.”

  Tristan Michel fought valiantly to get his emotions under control. Finally he stopped crying.

  “I would like to be with you when you talk to the priest, Father. I want to make sure you don’t decide to do something weird for the funeral.”

  Gastien stiffened for a minute. Taking a deep breath, he forgave his son.

  “I promise I am not going to decide to do anything weird. However, you can certainly help me with the plans. I know you are not very happy with me anymore, but let’s put that aside during these arrangements. Your mother would not want hard feelings overriding this. Let’s honor her and conduct this peacefully. Agreed?”

  “Oui.” Then Tristan Michel shouted, “SHE WOULD NOT BE DEAD, IF SHE HAD NOT TAKEN CARE OF YOU! SHE SHOULD NOT BE DEAD!”

  “I agree that she should not be dead. She was way too young to die. And, oui, she got sick from me. But, Son, husbands and wives take care of each other when they are sick. I did not make her sick on purpose.”

  Tristan Michel laid there in silence a few minutes. Finally he spoke. “Mon Dieu! Father, how will I ever be all right again?” He sobbed and turned to Gastien, imploring him with huge eyes.

  “Odette will help you and so will I, Tristan Michel. We will get through this together, if you will allow me to help you.”