Ring of Flowers by Brian Andrews Read Free Book Online

remaining brother, Martin, to take baby George to Chesterfield. They had broken quarantine. “Don’t worry. Martin returned last night with the news. George is safe; my sister will care for him at Uncle’s house.”
    She wailed with such anguish that he thought his heart would rip in two. It was the forlorn sound of a mother who just realized she would never see her child again. He stroked her sweaty, matted hair until she calmed. She sat quietly for a few minutes and then fixed her worried gaze on him.
    “Where is my son? I want to hold my baby, Paul. I want to see my baby,” she begged.
    He looked into her eyes. She was delirious. It was pointless to explain again. “I know you do, sweetheart. I know. Soon. I promise.”
    Two hours later, her fever returned and she shook so violently that he was afraid her bones would rattle loose from the sockets. He piled every blanket and piece of clothing they owned on top of her until the tremors subsided.
    “Open the shutters, please,” she asked him.
    He did as she requested and a golden beam of sunshine emblazoned the room. She smiled.
    “Paul, I don’t want to die here.”
    “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want you to die either.”
    “No,” she coughed. “I don’t want to die here.”
    “Then where do you want to go?”
    “Take me to Cucklett Delf. To our spot under the old elm tree.”
    “When the time comes, I will. I promise.”
    “Take me there now, Paul.”
    •   •   •   
    P AUL LIFTED HIS dying wife gingerly out of the open-air carriage, and carried her in his arms across the meadow of Cucklett Delf. He did not stop to rest until they reached the shade of the majestic English elm. Gently, he lowered her to the ground and helped her recline, with her back resting against his chest, and his back propped against the trunk of the tree. They sat in silence, together as one, listening to the birds and breeze. They watched the sun inch closer to the horizon. He kissed the top of her head again and again, telling her how much he loved her each time. At sunset, he picked a wildflower and stripped the leaves off. He bent the stem into a loop, and wove the remainder around itself. At the top of the impromptu ring sat a violet flower. Then, taking his wife’s trembling hand, he slipped the wildflower ring onto her ring finger, just as he had done nearly a year before.
    In silence, and in peace, they watched the fire-red sun retire below the horizon, and he held her in his arms until the eternal night claimed her.

CHAPTER 9
    _________________
    Cucklett Delf,
Eyam, England
August 1672
    P AUL F OSTER CHASED his six-year-old son through the knee-high summer grass of Cucklett Delf. George howled with delight every time his father caught him by the waist, swept him off his feet, and spun him around. As soon as Paul set George on the ground, the boy would scamper away, and the game would begin anew. When Paul was winded, he beseeched his son to join him for a rest under the shade of the English elm on the hill. George whined in protest until at last he took a seat next to his father.
    “What are you doing?” George asked.
    “I’m making a ring.”
    “A ring of flowers?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who are you making it for? Auntie Penny?”
    “No. I’m making this for your mother.”
    “But Father, Mama is in heaven. How are you going to give it to her?”
    Paul smiled. “I’m going to leave it here, at our special place. Then, after we leave, she can come get it.”
    George nodded. It was an entirely satisfactory plan to his six-year-old mind.
    “What was Mama like?”
    Paul turned to his son, surprised. It was the first time George had asked this question. Paul smiled and retrieved Kathryn’s leather-bound diary from his back pocket. It was time.
    “Your mother was a beautiful person, not only on the outside, but especially on the inside.”
    George liked this answer and hugged his father’s arm. He watched intently as his father paged through the