Emma Harte - Hold The Dream Part 49

"You're prejudiced," she murmured, returning his unwavering gaze, his gentle smile.Blackie sat up a little straighter, peering across at her in the soft dim glow of the muted light in the room. "I'll never be able to tell you what our holiday has meant to me, Emma. Those eight months with you have made up for all the badthings that ever happened to me in my entire life-the pain, the heartache, the sorrow. And I do thank you, me darlin'.""What a lovely thing to say, Blackie. But it is I who should thank you for making your Plan with a capital P.""It was a good plan-"Blackie stopped short and grimaced.Instantly Emma was on her feet, leaning over him. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing . . . just a twinge of indigestion."

"I m going to ring the doctor, and then I'm going to get you upstairs to bed." She turned away from him,made a movement toward the desk near the window."No, no." He tried to restrain her but his hand fell away weakly. "I won't make it, Emma.""Yes, you will," she insisted. "I'll help you.'Blackie shook his head very slowly."I am going to telephone Doctor Hedley," Emma an-.nounced with a show of her old firmness."Sit down here with me, Emma. Please," he begged. "Just for a minute or two."

Emma pulled up a ha.s.sock, seated herself, took his hand in hers, searched his face. "What is it, Blackie?"

He'squeezed her fingers, then smiled at her. Suddenly his eyes opened very wide. "All my life," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, "I've known you all my life. We've been through so much together, Emma."

"Yes," she said, "we have and I don't know what I'd have done without you, Blackie."

He sighed a very long, slow sigh. "I'm sorry to have to leave you alone. So very sorry, mavoumeen."

Emma could not speak. Tears rushed into her eyes, fell down her wrinkled cheeks, splashed over the

white silk collar and the emerald bow, and onto their entwined hands.

Blackie's eyes widened again, and he stared at her more acutely, as if memorizing her face. And then he said in a surprisingly clear voice, "I've always loved you, me darlin'."

"And I have always loved you, Blackie."

A fleeting smile struck his pale mouth. His eyelids fluttered, closed, lay still. His head fell to one side. His

hand went slack in her tenacious grip."Blackie," she said. "Blackie!"The silence overwhelmed her.She held on to his hand tightly, closing her eyes. The tears seeped out from under her old lids, ran down her face in streaming rivulets. She lowered her head and rested it on their clasped hands, drenching them

with her tears.

"Good-bye, my dearest friend, good-bye," she said at last. She continued to weep quietly, unable to stem the tears, and , she sat there for a long time, her aching heart full of love for him.

But eventually she lifted her head, let go of his hand, and pushed herself up onto her feet."She bent over him, gently smoothed his snow-white hair back from his forehead, and kissed his icy lips. How cold he is, she thought.

Emma's pace was slow and her step faltering as she moved .blindly toward his chair near the window, where he had so often sat lately looking out at his garden. She took the small wool blanket patterned with the tartan of the Seaforth Highlanders and brought it to him and covered his'legs and tucked it around him.

And then at the same snail's crawl she went to his desk. She lifted the phone and with trembling hands dialed Beck House.

It was Shane who answered. "h.e.l.lo?" he said.

On hearing his strong and.vibrant tone her tears began to flow once more. "It's Blackie," Emma said through her tears, in a voice that shook. "He's gone . . . Please come, Shane."

Shane arrived within the hour, bringing Paula, Emily, and Winston with him.

They found her sitting on the ha.s.sock next to Blackie, her hand resting on his knee, her silver head bowed. She did not turn nor did she move .at all, merely went on sitting there, staring into the fire.

Shane hurried to her, put his hand on her shoulder lightly, brought his face to hers. "I'm here, Aunt Emma," he said in the kindest of voices.

She made no response.

Shane took her hands in his and brought her to her feet slowly, gentleness flowing out of him.

Emma finally lifted her face to look up into his, and she began to xvee'p and Shane took her in his arms and held her close, soothing her.

"I miss him already and he's only just died," Emma said with a small heartbreaking sob. "Whatever am I going to do without Blackie?"

"Hush, Aunt Emma, hush," Shane murmured and then he led her over to the sofa, motioning with his eyes to Paula, who stood in the doorway white-faced and trembling. She came and sat with her grandmother, began to -comfort her, and Emily joined them.

Shane stepped over to Blackie. His throat was thick with emotion and the sorrow rose in him and tears ran down his cheeks. He gazed at Blaclde's face and saw how peaceful it was in death; and then he leaned forward and kissed his withered cheek.

"G.o.dspeed, Grandfather," he said in a low and saddened voice. "G.o.dspeed."

Chapter Forty-one.

Paula began cautiously, "It's your birthday in two days, Grandy, and I thought we might have a-"

"Oh dear," Emma interrupted softly, with a small frown, "Don't bring that up. Blackie's only been dead a couple of weeks and I'm not in the mood for a celebration."

"I know, and I wasn't talking about a big party. Just a small dinner here at Pennistone Royal. There would only be me, Emily, Winston, and my parents. We thought it would cheer you up."

"Cheer me up," Emma repeated hollowly, and then reached out and patted Paula's hand. "I don't think anything would cheer me right now. But I suppose I have to keep plodding on. All right then . . . just the five of you, though. Please don't invite anyone else. I'm not in much of a mood for people right now. They tire me."

"I promise I won't invite another solitary single soul," Paula a.s.sured her, pleased that the suggestion had met with success.

"And no presents, Paula. I don't want any presents. As far as I'm concerned, reaching eighty-one is cause for lament not receiving gifts and whooping it up."

"Don't worry. Grandma, we'll keep it very simple and casual. And it'll be nice for you to have Mummy and Daddy here for a few days."

"Yes," Emma"murmured. She glanced down at the alb.u.m on her lap. She had been looking at it when Paula had arrived a short while ago. She stared at the old photographs absently, her thoughts drifting into the past for a few seconds. Then she lifted her head, pushed the alb.u.m toward Paula, remarked, "Look at us here-Blackie, Laura, and me. We're standing outside my first shop in Armley. That's me-in the tam-o'-shanter."

"Yes, I recognize you." Paula had seen this picture many times, knew the pages of the alb.u.m by heart, but wanting to humor her grandmother, she said, "Let's look at some of the others, and you can tell me a few of your lovely stories about your early days in business. You know how I like hearing them."

Emma nodded and at once began to talk with sudden animation as they leafed through the book, and for the next twenty minutes the two of them sat side by side in the upstairs parlor, reliving parts of Emma Harte's life.

At one point Emma broke off, peered at Paula, and said, "How long do you think I'm going to live?"

Taken aback at this question, Paula stared at her grandmother askance, filling with sudden alarm. She cleared her throat, said firmly, "A long time, darling."

"You're very optimistic," Emma said, and turned away, looked out into s.p.a.ce, a faraway expression settling on her face.

Paula exclaimed, "You're extremely fit for your age, remarkable, really, and not a bit forgetful. You have years ahead of you, Grandy, as long as you take care of yourself."

Emma brought her ancient and wise green gaze to meet Paula's troubled face, and she smiled slowly. "Yes, yes, you're quite right. I don't know what's got into me today-I'm being morbid, aren't I? Blackie's death has been such a terrible blow to me, but I suppose I must be positive." She let out a chuckle. "Anyway, I might be old and a trifle weary these days, but I don't want to leave this world yet."

That's the spirit, Grandy."

Emma did not reply. She rose and walked over to the oriel window, stood looking down at her gardens and the daffodils blowing in the breeze. It's such a beautiful afternoon, she thought. Another perfect spring day . . . just like the day of Blackie's funeral. How eternal the land is, constantly renewing itself. Yes, in death there is always life. Sighing again, Emma returned to the fireplace and sat down in the chair next to it. She said, "It was lovely of you to come over to see me, Paula dear. But I think I'd like to be by myself for a while, to have a little rest before dinner."

Paula came to her, kissed her cheek, her heart full of love for Emma. "All right, Gran, and I'll pop in tomorrow with the babies."

"That'll be very nice," Emma answered, and settled Back in the chair as her granddaughter left the room. Her mind turned inward. The young don't really understand, she thought. . Paula tries, and tries very hard, but she doesn't know what it's like to be the sole survivor, the only one left of one's contemporaries. They've all gone now. They're all dead and buried. My dearest friends, my loved ones. Even my enemies are no longer around to get my goat and spark the will in me to fight. I'm so alone without Blackie. We kept each other going all these years-he and I. Rambling on together into our twilight years. We had so many memories to share, a lifetime of experiences, and so much love and friendship to give each other. Why, my whole life has been lived out with my sweet Irishman. I didn't expect him to go like that. Such a shock. I knew he was old, as I am old, but he seemed so strong, and indomitable, like me. Funny, I always thought I would die first. Whatever will I do? However will I manage without him?

Emma's grief and enormous sense of loss overcame her again, as it had done so frequently in the last two weeks since Blackie's sudden death. Tears came into her eyes and she choked back a sob, brought her hand to her trembling lips. I miss Blackie so much. Such'a void without him. There are so many things I didn't tell him and now it's too late. I ought to have told him about Shane and his love for Paula. I didn't want to upset Blackie. He would have worried. But I do wish I had told him after all.

Emma wiped her damp cheeks with her hand and rested her head against the chair. She was filled with an aching loneliness she could not endure. She closed her eyes and, after a few minutes, began to drowse, drifting off into a gentle sleep.

After leaving her grandmother, Paula had gone downstairs in search of Emily. She had found her in the library, and now they sat together discussing Emma.

"She's putting up a good front, of course," Paula said, "but she's really suffering inside."

Emily frowned worriedly. "I agree with you. She's absolutely lost without Blackie. I think all the fight's gone out of her. To tell you the truth, the other day I even wished we had found something on Jonathan. At least that might have captured her interest, made her angry enough to lift her out of this resigned mood."

Paula said, "She was very busy with the plans for your wedding before Blackie died. Can't you get her involved, again?"

"Don't think I haven't tried. But she seems so distracted, almost absentminded, which is not like her."

"You know something, Emily, there's only one thing for it!" Paula leaned forward eagerly. "Emma Harte has been a workhorse all of her life, and her business was her strong citadel in times of grief and sorrow and trouble in the past. We've got to persuade her to come out of retirement. . . get her back in the harness again."

Emily sat up with a jerk, her face brightening. "That's the best idea I've heard in weeks. And Grandma used to say she intended to die with her boots on. Oh, let's do it, Paula." Instantly Emily's face fell, and she bit her inner lip, shaking her blond head. "I'm not sure she'll agree. She might not want to intrude on us ... she can be very funny, you know."

"We have to make a stab at it. Personally, I think that it's her only salvation. She'll just fade away and die if we don't encourage her to be active, come back to work."

"Agreed, and you can count on me. There's another thing-" Emily hesitated, gave Paula a careful look, then rushed on, "Why don't you move back in here with Nora and the babies? At least until Jim comes out of the nursing home."

"Oddly enough, I thought of that when I was with Gran a little while ago. There's nothing like a couple of babies to liven things up, and perhaps having her great-grandchildren with her will give Grandy a new lease on life."

"Absolutely. And together you and I can jolly Gran out of her despondency, don't you think?"

"Oh G.o.d, I hope so, Emily."

"When do you think you could move in to Pennistone Royal?"

Paula laughed. "How does tomorrow sound?"

"Terrific. I'll come over and help you, if you like."

"I'd love it. And then on Monday morning I'm going to vacate Grandy's office at the Leeds store, move back into my old one. That evening, when we have the dinner for her birthday, you and I can make our proposal to her. Ill alert my parent's, and they might be able to add a few words of persuasion." Paula stood. "I'd better go, Emily. I want to stop off at the nursing home. I promised Jim I'd come by later today."

The two cousins left the library and walked across the Stone Hall to the front door.

Emily caught hold of Paula's arm just before they reached the short flight of steps. She said in a low tone, "Jim's been in there for ten weeks now. How much longer, Paula?"

"Another month to six weeks. If he continues to improve. Otherwise-" She shrugged wearily, added, 'Then it could be longer, of course."

Emily stared at Paula, said swiftly, "Look, I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I hope that Jim knows what drink does to him now. I mean, he won't be able to touch a drop ever again and-"

"He knows," Paula interjected. "And you can be d.a.m.ned sure I know. Thanks for being concerned, Emily. One step at a time right now-that's the only way I can live my life, get through each day without losing my sanity. And, very frankly, our grandmother is my priority at the moment."

"Yes," Emily said. "I understand, and she's mine too. You can rely on me to help you any way I can."

They cajoled, pleaded, challenged, and attempted to bully her, using every ruse they knew to get Emma Harte to return to work.

But consistently, and quite categorically, she refused to be budged. Her stance was inflexible. She would shake her head emphatically, repeat over and over again that she had retired and that was that.

Eventually Paula and Emily gave up, at least on the surface. But they were forever dropping pointed remarks and making asides at mealtimes. They continued to seek her advice, even when they did not really need it, using every opportunity to gain her interest and induce in her the desire to take an active role in her business once more.

Emma was fully aware of their ploys, and she would smile to herself, touched by their love and concern for her, but she remained resolute, in her determination to lead a quiet life at Pennistone Royal.

And then one morning in the middle of May, Emma awakened early. She discovered that she was filled with her old energy and restlessness and drive. This surprised her, and she lay in bed for a while pondering to herself.

"I'm bored silly," she said to Hilda, when her housekeeper brought up her breakfast tray at eight o'clock.

Placing the tray on Emma's lap, Hilda clucked sympathetically. "Of course you are, Mrs. Harte. You've been such anactive woman your entire life, this drifting along, doing nothing, doesn't sit well on you. Perhaps you ought to letTilson drive you into Leeds today. You could have lunch with Miss Paula or Miss Emily. Getting out of this housewould do you the world of good, I just know it."

"I've got a better idea, Hilda," Emma said thoughtfully. "I think I'll start going to the office for a short while every day. Iknow I don't want to get involved with my business on a day-to-day basis. On the other hand, I would like to keep busy."Emma shook her head, looking regretful. "I ought to be helping Emily plan that wedding of hers. I've been awfullyneglectful, a selfish old woman, now that I think about it . . . feeling sorry for myself because my old friends are dead."A look of comprehension flitted across the wrinkled face. "Why, Hilda, my grandchildren are my friends, aren't they?"

"You can be sure they are, Mrs. Harte," Hilda replied. "And Miss Emily will be delighted to have your help with her

wedding, what with her mother living in Paris and seemingly not all that interested. She's such a lot to do, and time is running out on her. June fifteenth is not so far off, you know, madam." Hilda beamed. "I shall go downstairs right now and ask Tilson to bring the car around at ten-thirty. How does that sound?"

"It sounds wonderful, Hilda. Thank you very much."

It was ten minutes to twelve when Emma Harte walked into her large department store in Leeds. She looked smart in a tailored navy-blue dress and matching coat. Milky pearls encircled her throat. Diamonds glittered in her ears. Her silver hair was perfectly dressed and her makeup artfully applied.

Emma hurried through the cosmetics department on the street level, her step purposeful and brisk, a wide smile ringing her mouth. And as she stopped to greet the various sales a.s.sistants she discovered she was almost moved to tears at the genuine welcome she received from them all.