“Hello, Audrey,” he greeted her. “What brings you out here on this rainy afternoon?”
She clutched her parcel. “Nothing much, Dr. Thomson. Some items for supper. I could have sent the kitchen maid, but I wanted to get out of the house.”
“I understand,” he said, taking a step towards her.
“Do you?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Of course. A house where someone is ill throws a damper on everyone and everything. I’ve seen it happen too numerous times to count.”
“At least now I have something to look forward to. I understand my father will soon be well.”
His brow furrowed. “What did you say, my dear?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Just what my mother told me before I left the cottage. She said father will recover.”
Enoch looked at the young woman before him and sighed. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. She was young but not a child. She was a woman of intelligence, and she must be told the truth, no matter how painful.
“Audrey, I’m sorry your mother told you that. It is not the truth,” he said quietly.
Audrey clutched the coat about her and frowned. “My mother lied? What did she lie about?”
“Your father,” he said. “He won’t recover.”
Audrey looked up into the face she knew so well. He was older than her father by several years, complete with a full salt-and-pepper beard.
“What do you mean, he won’t recover?”
“Audrey, my dear, your father has consumption. It’s getting worse, not better.” He said the words slowly and with care.
“Consumption?” A wave of dread filled her. “Impossible,” she whispered.
“No. Not impossible. Your father has been inflicted with it for some time. It is only recently that his symptoms have increased. The blood in his cough. The weight loss. Fatigue.”
Audrey shook her head. “Mother said he would recover. She told me so.”
Kindness gleamed in his eyes. “I suspect she thinks to save you from the truth.”
Audrey frowned. “I would rather know the truth than be told a lie.”
“Don’t be too hard on her, Audrey. She’s a different kind of woman. She isn’t strong like you. Perhaps in her mind she hopes he will get well,” he told her.
“But he won’t.”
He shook his head. “No. In fact, it’s best that you prepare yourself. It might not be long.”
Audrey clutched her parcel. She shivered in the blacksmith’s shed, but it had nothing to do with the rain. “Prepare myself?”
“Yes. The end is not far off.?
??
Audrey met his eyes and then looked away. “I can’t imagine a world without him.”
“I understand,” Dr. Thomson agreed. “Though I have been a doctor longer than you have been alive, loss is something I have never grown used to. But we must.” He touched her gloved hands. “You must also be strong for your mother and Frances. They will need you.”
“And me?” She looked up and met his eyes. “Whom am I to lean on?”
“I will support you and your family any way I can. You won’t be alone,” he told her gently and then glanced outside. “The rain has stopped. We should both head home. Send word if he worsens. And take care, my dear.”