The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

“She don’t appear to be breathing at all, Miss Ginna.”

“Did Barge take Papa to the clinic?”

“No, ma’am. He drove himself.”

“Then tell Barge to run down the street to get Mr. Boswell and then go on to the clinic to fetch Papa.”

Ginna had already begun the artificial respiration that her father had taught her. And within a few minutes, the ruddy-faced Mr. Boswell was kneeling beside her.

“Ginna, what can I do to help?”

“Take over the artificial respiration while I breathe into her mouth.”

She kept it up for twenty minutes, with the two of them working in a steady rhythm. Sweat poured down Quincy’s face from his efforts. Then, seeing Charles appear and rush to Araminta’s side, Quincy stopped.

“Charles, she’s dead,” Quincy said. “I think she was dead even before I got here.”

But that did not deter Charles. “She might have choked on something; it might be blocking her air passage. I’ll have to do a tracheotomy.”

While Ginna stood in the doorway, with Clara’s arms around her, she saw the scapel poised in the air as Charles made an incision to Araminta’s windpipe.

“Here, Quincy, hold the napkin to stanch the blood while I take up the artificial respiration.”

“Charles, she’s already dead.”

“No, Quincy, we’ll keep working.”

He was both surgeon and husband at the same time, with emotion governing his actions. As a surgeon, he had to try to do everything possible to restore the life of the woman who had brought him so much pain through the years. Perhaps this was the reason that kept him going far beyond all normal procedure. The supreme effort was not only for her but for himself.

In the end, he knew it was useless. Araminta was dead. But, of course, he had known that the moment he’d knelt beside her.

CHAPTER

32

“Darling, I came as soon as I heard.”

A subdued Ginna sat in the darkened parlor to receive guests offering their condolences. They were mainly her father’s colleagues at the medical center and a few neighbors. But now she was alone except for Jonathan.

“Oh, Jonathan, it was terrible.”

“I know, Ginna. I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”

“Papa’s taking care of the funeral arrangements, so there’s little to do beyond that.” She looked toward the door. Then she whispered, “But I’m glad you’re here with me now.”

He took her hand. “How I wish I could be beside you the entire time. You’re my wife, and it’s driving me mad not to be able to acknowledge it.”

“I know. Sometimes I think Chicago was just a dream. That it never really happened.”

“But it did, Ginna. And we’ll be together soon.”

“Not really. Now that Mummy has died, the wedding will have to be postponed for a long time. We both know that.”

“So even in death, Araminta has had her way. To keep us apart.”

“That’s what’s so tragic, Jonathan. The last conversation she and Papa had together they were fussing over me. And when Papa told her our marriage would take place as planned, she actually said ‘Over my dead body.’ How can I live with that, Jonathan? Always remembering that it might have been my fault?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ginna. It was the chicken bone stuck in her throat. It would make more sense to blame Clara for cooking the chicken for supper.”

A tapping at the door indicated other visitors, and Clara immediately went to the front door. “Good morning, Clara. I’m Mrs. Drake. Is Ginna at home?”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s in the parlor with Mr. Jonathan. Do come in.”

Peggy Drake swept into the parlor, and Ginna stood to receive her. “Poor Ginna,” she said, holding out her hands to her. “What a sad time for you. But I know what a comfort Jonathan is to you now.” And then after a few words of sympathy shared, the three took their seats.

For a moment, Peggy looked at Ginna and Jonathan, seated beside each other on the small sofa. “I’m glad I found you two alone this morning because I wanted to talk with you both.”

She nodded in Jonathan’s direction. “I’ve just spoken with Allison, so she knows what I’m going to suggest. And if the plan meets with your approval, then it has her blessing, too.”

“What plan, Mrs. Drake?” Ginna asked.

“It might seem much too early, Ginna, dear, to be discussing it. But at the risk of seeming hard-hearted at your recent loss, I’m going ahead, anyway. It’s something that will have to be dealt with sooner or later: your wedding.”

“We were just talking about it, Peggy,” Jonathan said. “Under the circumstances, Ginna tells me we’ll be forced to postpone the ceremony indefinitely.”

“Only about six to eight weeks, really, if the wedding is a small, private one with just the immediate family. That’s why I want to have the wedding at my house, Ginna. I feel I brought you two together, and it’s the least I can do, especially now that your … your mother won’t be able to fulfill her duties.”

“That’s most kind of you, Mrs. Drake, but—”

“Now, Ginna, don’t decline before you take time to think about it. I understand your half sister has just had a baby, so she won’t be able to help. And you can’t have the wedding here, with a funeral wreath so recently on the door. I suppose you could have the wedding at Jonathan’s house, but it would look so much better if you would allow me my little pleasure.”

Her smile was endearing. “You know how much I enjoy entertaining. Now just consider it settled, and once this awful week is behind us, then we’ll get together and discuss it at length.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, discuss it with Jonathan, dear, and we’ll talk another time.” She stood, with both Ginna and Jonathan following suit. “I really must go. But know, Ginna, dear, you both have my deepest sympathy in your sorrow.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Drake.”

“I’ll see you to the door, Peggy,” Jonathan said, accompanying her out of