such. She prefers the burden of visiting family to the excitement of the journey. And with her being such a delicate flower, I can hardly fault her.”
“But surely she wishes to see you off? I mean, you say six months, but there could be complications. You might not see her again for quite a while.”
Lightbridge’s smile faltered, turning at the edges ever so slightly. “See her again …” He let the word trail off as if unsure what I was asking.
I suspected I was causing discomfort, but at the time I had no idea why. “Maybe she—”
“Gideon,” Geraldine interjected. “Tell us again how you rescued your regiment from certain doom.”
Lightbridge returned to his jovial self at the sound of her question. “Which time?” Then he burst into another round of uproarious laughter.
The uneasy tension between Geraldine and Albert was not lost on me. There was something afoot behind those furtive glances, but I knew not what. Later, after dinner was finished and I excused myself to the solitude of my room, Geraldine caught up with me in the hallway. By some conspiring whim of fate, her room in the oversized dwelling was just across from mine.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked as we walked to our respective rooms.
“Yes,” I answered. “It’s been some time since I’ve traveled such a distance.”
“You get used to it. Travel, I mean.”
I bristled at her implication. “Did you and the world-famous Elijah travel that much?”
She flinched at my verbal jab. “Yes. But nothing quite this spectacular.” We fell quiet as we mounted the broad staircase together. After a few steps she asked, “Did you ever marry?”
“No,” I said. “I was too busy with work.”
“You shouldn’t let that stop you.”
“Such is life.” I shrugged. “Love is not meant for everyone, else it wouldn’t be special.”
She smiled, and once again it was as beautiful as I remembered. “Sometimes I think only the very foolish and the very mad are blessed with requited love.”
I snorted a small laugh. “That’s very astute of you.”
“Lightbridge is a bit of both, you know.”
“The idea had occurred to me, yes.”
We came to rest in the hallway, just outside of our doors, when Geraldine took me by the elbow. She drew me close, lowering her voice to a whisper. “His wife is gone.”
I stared into her eyes, unsure of what she was driving at. “So he said. She is visiting her—”
She shushed me with a shake of her head. “She’s gone . Has been for some time.”
The way she stressed the word ‘gone’ explained it to me. “You mean she’s … passed on?”
“Yes. But for heaven’s sake don’t let on that you know.”
I was horrified. I may not have been a psychologist or even an armchair philosopher, but it seemed a very bad idea to me for the entire crew to play into one man’s delusions about his dead spouse. I said as much, only to be reprimanded.
“It’s not our place to judge,” she snapped. After a few deep breaths to center herself, she continued. “From what I understand, her death crushed the man, swallowed his soul, nearly killed him along with her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“Not as sorry as I,” Albert said, joining us in the hallway. The man moved on cat feet when the notion took him. “I’d known the pair of them for years, and had never seen two souls more in love. When she took sick, there was nothing we could do to console him. He tended to her every waking moment. Then when she finally breathed her last …” Albert’s look was desperate, a pained soul worried about his friend. “I was sure he would never recover.”
“And now?” I asked.
“Now he’s stable.” Albert lost the pained look in favor of his silly, wide grin. “Well, he is more stable than he was. At the time he was two shakes of a lamb’s tail away from an asylum. But then one day he started to pretend she was still alive. Suddenly, everything was all better.
“But surely she wishes to see you off? I mean, you say six months, but there could be complications. You might not see her again for quite a while.”
Lightbridge’s smile faltered, turning at the edges ever so slightly. “See her again …” He let the word trail off as if unsure what I was asking.
I suspected I was causing discomfort, but at the time I had no idea why. “Maybe she—”
“Gideon,” Geraldine interjected. “Tell us again how you rescued your regiment from certain doom.”
Lightbridge returned to his jovial self at the sound of her question. “Which time?” Then he burst into another round of uproarious laughter.
The uneasy tension between Geraldine and Albert was not lost on me. There was something afoot behind those furtive glances, but I knew not what. Later, after dinner was finished and I excused myself to the solitude of my room, Geraldine caught up with me in the hallway. By some conspiring whim of fate, her room in the oversized dwelling was just across from mine.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked as we walked to our respective rooms.
“Yes,” I answered. “It’s been some time since I’ve traveled such a distance.”
“You get used to it. Travel, I mean.”
I bristled at her implication. “Did you and the world-famous Elijah travel that much?”
She flinched at my verbal jab. “Yes. But nothing quite this spectacular.” We fell quiet as we mounted the broad staircase together. After a few steps she asked, “Did you ever marry?”
“No,” I said. “I was too busy with work.”
“You shouldn’t let that stop you.”
“Such is life.” I shrugged. “Love is not meant for everyone, else it wouldn’t be special.”
She smiled, and once again it was as beautiful as I remembered. “Sometimes I think only the very foolish and the very mad are blessed with requited love.”
I snorted a small laugh. “That’s very astute of you.”
“Lightbridge is a bit of both, you know.”
“The idea had occurred to me, yes.”
We came to rest in the hallway, just outside of our doors, when Geraldine took me by the elbow. She drew me close, lowering her voice to a whisper. “His wife is gone.”
I stared into her eyes, unsure of what she was driving at. “So he said. She is visiting her—”
She shushed me with a shake of her head. “She’s gone . Has been for some time.”
The way she stressed the word ‘gone’ explained it to me. “You mean she’s … passed on?”
“Yes. But for heaven’s sake don’t let on that you know.”
I was horrified. I may not have been a psychologist or even an armchair philosopher, but it seemed a very bad idea to me for the entire crew to play into one man’s delusions about his dead spouse. I said as much, only to be reprimanded.
“It’s not our place to judge,” she snapped. After a few deep breaths to center herself, she continued. “From what I understand, her death crushed the man, swallowed his soul, nearly killed him along with her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“Not as sorry as I,” Albert said, joining us in the hallway. The man moved on cat feet when the notion took him. “I’d known the pair of them for years, and had never seen two souls more in love. When she took sick, there was nothing we could do to console him. He tended to her every waking moment. Then when she finally breathed her last …” Albert’s look was desperate, a pained soul worried about his friend. “I was sure he would never recover.”
“And now?” I asked.
“Now he’s stable.” Albert lost the pained look in favor of his silly, wide grin. “Well, he is more stable than he was. At the time he was two shakes of a lamb’s tail away from an asylum. But then one day he started to pretend she was still alive. Suddenly, everything was all better.
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