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Authors: Gilbert Morris

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“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But he’s had heart trouble for some time now. He instructed me never to tell any of you, and of course I held that confidence. I know this is a terrible shock to all of you, but I must tell you that Charles knew it was going to happen. It was just a question of when.”

“But how could he not tell us!” Julienne said shrilly. “He should have told us!”

He looked at her with his sweet expression. “Maybe so, maybe not. Charles believes that all of us are called home by the Lord in His time. He trusted in the Lord to take him when He was ready. And now Charles knows that it’s his time.”

“That’s right,” Leah said, lifting her head. Roseann’s sobs subsided, and she looked up. Standing up, Leah went on, “I knew that Charles was ill, and I suspected it was his heart. But any time I asked him about it, he just smiled and said, ‘The Lord Jesus gives me breath and life. When it’s time for me to go home to Him, then I’ll go.’” She stared hard down at Roseann, then Darcy, and then Julienne. “But I know my brother, and I know that even though he trusts the Lord with all his heart, he’s probably fighting hard.”

“Good!” said Julienne. “He’s strong, he could live!”

“Maybe,” Dr. Rankin said quietly. “But if he did, he’d be sick and crippled for whatever’s left of his life. He thinks it’s his time, Julienne, and I agree with him. But your aunt’s right. I’ve seen it so often before. It’s hard for good people to feel like they can let go of their responsibilities, they feel guilt, they worry about their loved ones. I know that you all know me and trust me. So I’ll tell you I think you should let him go.”

“No!” Julienne said vehemently.

Darcy still looked bewildered, and muttered, “No, no . . .”

Roseann stood up and wiped the tears from her face. “Dr. Rankin is right,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice. “Charles trusts the Lord with his life, and he’ll trust Him with his death. If he believes it’s time, we have to let him go. Both of you come with me now, and you, too, Leah. It’s time to say good-bye.”

They went up to their father’s bedroom and went inside. Immediately Roseann went to sit on the bed, while Darcy, Julienne, and Leah stood on the other side. Julienne saw how small her father looked, how sunken and gray was his face, and she could tell he was wracked with pain. The last bit of hope that he would live faded away.

Roseann traced his cheek with her hand and said, “Charles, my love? Can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Oh, Roseann, my dearest love, I’m sorry, so—”

“No,” she said sternly. “Never be sorry. I’m so proud, and so blessed, to have you as my husband. You’re a wonderful father, a kind, loving, patient man. Listen to me, my love. Don’t worry. Don’t even think about us any more. The Lord is coming to take you home, and there you will have joy and rest and comfort forever. Please just close your eyes and look for Him, because I know He is very near to all of us right now.”

His dull eyes stayed riveted on her face as she spoke, and then he seemed to sag, his entire body went limp, and his face became peaceful. Roseann smiled and took his hand.

He turned and looked at them on the other side of the bed. “I always loved you, my children, and I’m so proud of you. Please tell Carley I’m sorry I couldn’t read to her tonight.”

Choking back a sob, Julienne said, “It’s all right, Papa. I’ll read to her from now on. I—I’ve always loved you, Papa. So much.”

He nodded slightly. “Darcy, take care of your mother and your aunt and your sisters.”

“Yes, sir,” Darcy said bleakly. “Father, I—I love you very much.”

“I know,” Charles said. Very little life was in him as he looked at Leah. “Thank you, sister.”

“No, thank you for giving me a family when I lost mine, beloved brother,” she said. “The Lord will bless you for it.”

He turned back to Roseann. “Love you, Roseann. Love you.”

“I love you, my darling,” she whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

They all stayed there, watching him. He gazed at Roseann for a long time, and miraculously she just looked back into his eyes, smiling. His eyes fluttered, closed; his breathing became shallow, very light breaths, each one farther apart from the other.

And then Charles Ashby went home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Julienne left her mother’s bedroom and went to the sitting room. She sat down on the plump sofa and slumped down, letting her head rest against the back of the sofa. A grim smile played on her face when she recalled the last time her Aunt Leah had seen her with her back touching the back of a seat. But she knew her aunt wouldn’t catch her this time, for she and Leah were taking turns caring for Roseann, and Leah had just gone up to let Julienne rest for awhile. She was exhausted.

Carley came in to sit by Julienne. “Are you too tired to take me for a walk?” she asked. Ever since Charles’s death she had clung to Julienne and Leah. Though Roseann had been magnificent in Charles’s last moments, and had borne the two days aftermath and then the funeral with her head held high, immediately after that she had collapsed, and had been virtually bedridden ever since. But though she was Carley’s mother and Carley loved her dearly, she had always been closer to Julienne and her Aunt Leah, and even Tyla.

“I’m so sorry, Carley, but I am just exhausted. Maybe if I could just rest for about an hour, I’ll be able to take you out for awhile before dinner. Will that be all right?” Julienne said.

“I guess so. Would you—could you please let me take a nap with you?” she pleaded. “I promise, I won’t fidget, I’ll be quiet and still.”

Julienne put her arm around her and hugged her close. “Of course you can. I’d like that. Just let me sit here for a minute, then we’ll go upstairs.”

They sat for a few moments in silence, just hugging each other. Then Caesar came in and stood just inside the door, his head dropped. He and Libby had grieved over Charles Ashby’s death almost as much as the family had. “Miss Julienne, I’m awful sorry to bother you, but me and Libby thought we’d better tell someone.”

“Go ahead, Caesar,” Julienne said, sitting straight up as ladies should, and folding her hands serenely on her lap.

He fidgeted, then looked up with a woeful expression. “The butcher, he won’t sell us any more meat on account. And this morning the dairyman told us that after this week we’ll have to go on a cash paying basis.”

Julienne blinked, her mind reeling. After an awkward silence, as Caesar refused to meet her eyes, she managed to say calmly, “All right, Caesar, I’ll take care of it. Would you please get the buggy ready to go to town? I’m going to write a letter, and I’ll need you to take it to Mr. Preston Gates at Planter’s Bank.”

“Sure, sure, Miss Julienne,” he said. “I’ll just go hitch her up and bring her around. You send Libby out with that letter when you finish.”

“Thank you, Caesar.” He left, obviously relieved.

Troubled, Carley asked, “Julienne? Can’t we have steak any more?” Aside from black licorice, beefsteak was Carley’s favorite foods.

She turned to her and took her hand. “Of course we will, Carley. It’s just that since Father passed away, it has sort of confused the shopkeepers that we buy from. I know that Mr. Gates is taking care of things right now, and he hasn’t called because we’re in mourning. But don’t worry, I’m going to send a note asking him to come talk to me and Aunt Leah, and we’ll get this all straightened out.”

THE NEXT AFTERNOON CAESAR showed Preston Gates into the parlor, where Leah and Julienne waited for him. He bowed over their hands and said sincerely, “Please accept my deepest condolences for your loss. Charles was a good man, an honorable man, and I counted him as a friend. He will be sorely missed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Julienne said. “Please, sit down.”

He took his seat on a wingchair across from them and glanced around. “Is Mr. Darcy Ashby here?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Julienne answered evenly. “Mr. Gates, I appreciate that you are hesitant to discuss business with us, considering that we are in mourning. But already some questions regarding the family’s finances have arisen. My aunt and I will be responsible for managing our affairs from now on, so I’m sure you understand that we need you to help us figure out our financial situation now.”

He nodded, and his sharp features reflected a deep uneasiness. “I wish I had good news, but I’m afraid I don’t.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Leah said quietly, “Mr. Gates, we already knew that the house is mortgaged, and Charles was just telling us about some of the plantation business, including the fact that he had mortgaged it, when he fell ill. I just want you to understand that we both understand that we’re in some financial straits, and you are not going to cause us to have the vapors by what you tell us.”

“I don’t think that,” he said. “I think that both of you ladies are smart and capable. It’s just that—Charles’s early death is so tragic, and not only for the obvious reasons. You see, Ashby Plantation is a highly profitable enterprise, and the bank had no problems with mortgaging it, because we know that we would be paid back, that the risk was very low. But now, you see, without Charles, that risk has suddenly become very high. I’m afraid that the bank is going to be obliged to foreclose the mortgage.”

Both Leah and Julienne grew utterly still. Gates sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked down at his restless hands. After long moments Julienne said in a choked voice, “Are you—are you saying that we’re losing the plantation? That the bank is taking it away from us?”

Without looking up, he murmured, “We don’t have a choice. A little over ten thousand dollars is owed on a twenty-thousand-dollar mortgage, Miss Ashby. The bank couldn’t possibly extend the rest of the money to your family, because there is no one to run the plantation. And so we will have to foreclose.”

Now even Leah looked shaken. Julienne’s face worked, as she struggled to control the tremendous anger rising in her as his words sunk in. She swallowed hard, took a deep ragged breath, and said in a voice so hard it barely resembled her own, “If I understand what you are saying, Mr. Gates, it is that the bank is getting a rich plantation for about ten thousand dollars. You will sell it, I know, for at least six times that much. The Ashbys will lose what has been their home for almost a hundred years, and you knew this, and
you let me bury my father there!
How could you! How dare you!”

Leah said sharply, “Julienne, be quiet. This is not Mr. Gates’s decision alone. He has to answer to his Board of Directors, and they make these decisions, not him. Your father knew this when he did business with them, and that’s what it is. It’s business.”

Julienne’s anger waned, then her face crumpled and she buried it in her hands.

Gates looked up and looked at Leah gratefully. Then regretfully he said, “I am so very sorry, Miss Julienne, Mrs. Norris. I know it is cold comfort, but I did try to get the Board to approve signing the mortgage over to your mother, because everything was left to her, you know. But they wouldn’t even consider it.”

Julienne looked up, her face ashen. “Please accept my apologies, Mr. Gates. Of course I know my aunt is right, and I know that you are—were a good friend to my father. I’m so very sorry for speaking to you the way I did.”

“Please, please,” he said uncomfortably, making an awkward waving gesture with one hand. “I understand, and I don’t blame you, Miss Ashby. In fact, I agree with you, because I still feel responsible. The whole situation has grieved me terribly.”

Leah sighed deeply. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Gates. So, where are we now? I mean, what is the whole situation?”

“The problem is that the payments on the mortgage are three hundred dollars a month, and the family expenses have been running about eight hundred dollars,” he answered gravely.

“Over a thousand dollars a month?” Leah blurted out. “Oh, no, Charles confided in me some, but I had no idea it was that bad!”

Julienne frowned. “I don’t understand. How are we to live? What can we do?”

“You have no choice, Miss Julienne. In fact, this is what your father was considering doing anyway. You’re going to have to sell this house and sell the carriages and horses, and find a smaller place to live. From now on I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn to make do with much less.”

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