The English Descendants

13

As Anne grows, she turns inward, a quiet child with few friends. She is the opposite of her mother, who laughs loud with her friends on the wide deck overlooking the garden. Other than her cousin, Anne does not like to play with the other children that find their way into the Strong house. And when her second brother is born, she is six and left largely to her own devices. The little boy, named Harold after his father, arrives too early and is weak. Because of this, he is rarely left alone. Thomas fears he will not be able to meet the boy before he dies. When Charlotte is bathing and his father is working, Anne watches him. Thomas, seeing his opportunity, appears to them both.

"I know you. You've been here before."

"Yes."

"Are you a ghost?"

"Yes."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I want to meet your new brother."

"He's sick."

"I know." Thomas kisses the little boy's forehead as he sleeps, "He's a beautiful little boy, just like you and Dexter."

"You watch us, too?"

"Yes."

"Does Mom know?"

"I think so. But she does not want to see me."

"Oh. What's your name?"

"Thomas."

"Is my brother going to die like Alan did?"

He looks at her earnest, innocent eyes and wants so badly to lie, "Possibly. But the future is something you cannot yet know." Technically, it is true. She can't. He could. He hasn't looked, but he knows just from watching the child that he won't survive long.

Anne nods, "Dex wasn't born yet when Alan died. But he's worried, too."

"I cannot stay long, Miss Anne. Know that I do my best to watch over your family. I cannot stop death. But I can offer what little comfort I have to you when it comes."

"Who are you?"

"Just a friend of your grandmother's from long ago." He is gone.

"Who are you talking to in here, Anne?"

"My imaginary friend."

"You have one?"

"Yes."

"Ah. Where is Dexter?"

"Napping."

"And Harold?"

"He looks alright."

Charlotte picks him up and he curls against her chest, "Come up on my lap and you can hold him."

Anne climbs up and cuddles with Charlotte, "I won't get that long to hold him, will I?"

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he's always sick. And my imaginary friend thinks so, too."

Charlotte doesn't like to think about losing her youngest, but she knows in her heart their time is short. She keeps him on her chest in the hopes that her heart can keep his beating. Anne learns to take care of Dexter while Charlotte keeps Harold close. And late at night, when there is no one else awake, Thomas takes care of Anne. He sits on the edge of her bed and rests a hand on her back while she cries into her pillow and he waits until she has fallen asleep to leave.

Once she is asleep, he checks on her parents and watches as they curl little Harold between them. He remembers this feeling. Like them, he had only a short time with his son beside him, but the worried looks on their faces as they listen to his breathing falter in his sleep are painfully familiar. He knows this dread, this anticipation of loss, intimately well. When he can, he kisses Charlotte's forehead while she sleeps and whispers to her gentle comforts. There is little to say that will take away the edge and the hurt when it happens, but he hopes she knows she is not alone and that little Harold knows how dearly she loves him.