Footprints At Dawn (Book 2)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Thomas passed away in the early morning of January 3rd, 1870, with Nicholas, myself and Teddy by his side.

He had spent the last few days of his life in and out of consciousness, spoonfuls of laudanum making him drowsy but pain-free.

The last word he had whispered was the name of his wife, the love of his life. At last, they were together again.

Once word had spread of his demise, we had a constant flow of people visiting the cottage to pay their respects and leave flowers. They were mostly volunteers who had cared for Thomas over the time he'd been there, some we'd never met before, but we held it together long enough to thank them for their kindness and generosity.

We also used the opportunity to say goodbye to the people we did know, as we didn't have a lot of time to waste. Nicholas wished for Thomas to be buried at Clay's Cottage as soon as possible, so we needed to leave Launceston within the next few hours so we could organise the funeral.

After the undertaker had taken Thomas away, and the mourners  became less frequent, we were able to pack up Thomas' personal belongings.

I was folding some of his clothes while Nicholas was emptying out the drawers in the side table when I heard him mumble to himself, "I don't believe it."

When I turned my head to see what he had found, he was staring down at a postcard-sized picture held between his thumb and forefinger.

"What'd you find?" He outstretched his arm and I stepped forward to take the picture from him. "Pretty," I said, studying the colourful oil painting of a farm landscape. I couldn't believe how  much detail there was in something so small.

"I've improved over the years, haven't I?" he said.

"Wait, you painted this?"

He nodded. "When I was fourteen. That was what our farm looked like back then."

"Wow. You were even unbelievably talented when you were fourteen."

"Remember I told you my mother used to secretly take small paintings into town and sell them for me without my father knowing?"

I smiled, remembering that day well. "Of course. It was the first story you told me when you were beginning to open up to me."

"Then you'll remember me saying I sold my first painting at that age?" I nodded. "This was the painting, Matilda. This was the first painting I sold."

"But if you sold it, how did your father end up with it?"

"He must have been the one to buy it." He exhaled in disbelief. "I can't believe he was the first person to buy one of my paintings."

"So he didn't disapprove of you painting after all."

"He had an odd way of showing it."

"Maybe he did, but he was proud of your talent, Nicholas. Those were the last words he said to you." He nodded. "And after he faked his death and went into hiding, he thought to take that with him. It was something to remember you by, as well as Clay's Cottage. He loved you and your mother so very much, Nicholas."

Tears ran down his cheeks, and I joined him on the bed, wrapping an arm around him to comfort him. We sat there for a while  in silence until we heard a quiet tap at the front door.

We both looked up to find Rose and Noah standing there, Teddy trotting over to greet them.

"We apologise," Rose said. "We can come back later."

"No-no, it's fine," Nicholas said, quickly wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Come in."

They stepped inside. "We just stopped by to see if there was anything you'd like us to help you with before you leave?" Noah asked us.

We rose from the bed and Nicholas stepped forward. "Yes, there is, actually. Noah, would you mind helping me dispose of the Christmas tree?"

Noah nodded. "Of course."

When the men moved to complete their task, I shifted closer to Rose. "Rose, your decorations are on the table. Thank you for the loan."

"You're welcome, Matilda."

"Tilly," I said, and she looked at me in confusion. "All my friends call me Tilly."

She grinned at me, then we moved aside when the men carried the tree through the room and out the door.

"How's Nicholas?" she asked once we were alone.

"He's been quiet, but I think he's doing okay. He just found an old picture that he painted that he didn't know Thomas had. Upset him a little, but in a good way."

"It's hard losing a parent. I lost my mother when I was a little girl."

"Oh, Rose, I had no idea."

"I miss her everyday, even more now I'm expecting my own child. It would've been nice to have her around." I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "What was that for?" she asked when I pulled away.

"I'm just going to miss you, that's all. I wish I could be here for you and the baby."

"And you will be. Like I said the other day, we can visit and write to each other. Matil- Tilly, I know it's early days, but Noah and I would love it if you and Nicholas would be godparents for the babe."

"Oh, Rose, that's such an honour, but... Surely you have someone else you would rather ask? Someone you've known longer, a family member, brothers and sisters, maybe?"

"We're both only children. Our cousins live in England. We've given it a lot of thought and we want you two. Our friends." I stared into her hopeful eyes for a while. What could I say? Sorry, I can't, because any day now I'll be returning to 2019 and I'll never see you two again? She must've noticed my hesitation when she said, "You don't have to decide right now. Talk it over with Nicholas."

I nodded and smiled at her, relieved I didn't have to disappoint her right there and then.

"I will write after we return home. I promise."

* * *

With Ace and the buggy packed up and ready to go later that afternoon, Nicholas and I took one last look at Thomas' cottage.

He was able to make new memories and found new discoveries there with his father. Ones he will remember and treasure for the rest of his life. He once thought his father a hard man, not one to show emotion. But he recently learnt he was simply a man who was afraid, wracked with guilt for years about a certain secret. It was his duty to be strong and protect his family to prevent the truth from being revealed.

When his gaze lingered longer on the building than mine did, I touched him lightly on the arm and said, "You ready to go?"

He turned to me and he smiled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Yes, my darling. Let's go home," he replied, and with a flick of the reins, we were off.