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The shades drawn closed at the hospital windows, Lauralee sat vigil at her father’s bedside. His raspy breathing and his ashen color made her well aware of his worsening condition.
But she had seen this for several days now. Even weeks. And still he clung to life as though a lifeline were there, keeping him from sinking into the dark void of death.
“Oh, Father, is it because of the man you sent for?” Lauralee whispered, more to herself than to her father. He had not responded now for several days. “Is it sheer will that keeps you alive? Is it that important to you that your friend arrives to escort me safely to Mattoon? Lord, Father, I’m glad something is keeping you alive. We missed so many years of being together. Oh, but if only a miracle could be performed that could make you well again. We would share such wonderful times.”
“Lauralee?” Boyd’s voice was so faint she could scarcely hear. His eyes opened weakly as he turned to her. “Has he arrived yet, Lauralee? Has Joe arrived?”
So happy that he was awake and talking to her, Lauralee gently hugged him. “Father,” she cried. “Oh, Father, I’m so glad you’ve awakened. It’s been so long.”
Boyd’s frail hand patted her on the back. “Honey, I’m sorry I worried you,” he said between raspy breaths. “I’m sorry for being such a bother.”
Lauralee leaned away from him and took his hand and held it to her bosom as she sat down on the edge of the bed with him. “Father, how could you think you are a bother?” she scolded. “I’ll be here for you, always.”
“I wish I could have been there for you, Lauralee, while you were growing up,” Boyd said, tears streaming from his eyes. “If only I would’ve looked harder for you.”
Lauralee placed a gentle finger to his lips, silencing his regrets. “Shh,” she said. “Don’t waste your energy on regrets. Father, let’s concentrate on now. We’re together. We’ve found each other.”
“Only to soon lose each other again,” Boyd said. He turned his head to one side and coughed hard, then looked at her again. “Joe. You’ve got to promise me that you’ll let Joe get you to the Petersons in Mattoon. They’ll give you what I was robbed of. They’ll give you all the loving you’d ever want.”
“Father, I’ve told you time and again that I will go to the Petersons,” Lauralee said, caressing his pale brow with her fingertips. “But now I just want to relish being with you.”
Boyd turned his eyes toward the window. “Raise the shades,” he pleaded. “Please let me see the sunshine.”
“Father, it’s midnight,” Lauralee gently explained.
Boyd turned back to her. “Midnight?” he said, his eyes searching hers. “Sweetheart, you should be in bed. You need your rest for the journey to Mattoon.”
“I’m not a fragile daisy.” Lauralee laughed softly. “I won’t wilt. And, anyhow, I’m not going to Mattoon for a long time. Just perhaps you will get up from that bed soon as good as new and we can move into our own little house. We can be family, Father. Not me and the Petersons.”
“That’s what dreams are made of,” Boyd said, patting her hand. His eyes drifted closed. “I’m so tired. I’m so sleepy. Please awaken me, Lauralee, when Joe comes?”
“Yes, Father, I’ll awaken you when your friend Joe arrives,” she said and held his hand until he was asleep again.
Then she went to a window and raised the shade. Starlight, pale and cold, speckled the heavens. She shivered and hugged herself.
“Joe?” she whispered. “Who on earth is this Joe? Why is Father so insistent on his arrival?”
She had tried to get her father to tell her more about this stranger who would soon enter her life. He seemed content enough to just know the man, himself. He had just told her time and time again to trust him, that he knew a dependable man when he saw him. And Joe was the best.
“What is his last name?” she wondered again. She had often asked her father Joe’s last name but he had ignored the question, as though knowing one’s last name did not matter.
“I shall surely soon know the answers about this man of mystery,” she said, sighing.
She returned to her father’s bedside, her head bobbing as she fought off sleep.
Chapter 4
This maiden, she lived with no other thought,
Than to love and be loved by me.
—EDGAR ALLAN POE
Two Weeks Later.
A soft knock on the closed door drew Lauralee from her chair in the hospital room. She stopped and glanced at her father over her shoulder, then went to the door and quietly opened it.
