“I’M SORRY to wake you, but it’s almost nine o’clock.” The voice seemed to come from a faraway place, a different dimension, yet it was a sound familiar since his earliest childhood. His eyelids fluttered open, then his gaze shot to his wife lying on the bed next to the wingback chair that for the last three days and nights had been his watch post. To his relief he found her peacefully asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily, the shipshape bedsheet and blanket across her chest attesting to... serene dreams. He had seen the same sight throughout the night, at least until the wee hours when exhaustion had finally claimed him. He glanced up at his sister. “Nine o’clock you say, Anne?” “Yes. Dr. Prescott just arrived. The family is gathering in the parlor.” “Right. Give me a minute. I want to tidy up a bit and stoke up the fire.” “Take whatever time you need,” Anne Cutler Seymour said. She squeezed her brother’s shoulder before walking quietly out of the room.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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