Page 114 of A Castaway in Cornwall
Laura turned her head and, with effort, opened her eyelids. The blurriness had lessened, but the sunlight hurt her eyes. She closed them again, save for the narrowest slit. Through the haze and her lashes, she saw a feminine figure. A woman in a long green cape closed the garden gate behind her. She had a halo of red hair—the color faded by sunlight or age. Her profile and the small spectacles she wore seemed familiar.
The woman turned toward her, and Laura’s hand flew to her chest.
It was her mother, back from the dead.
Was she still dreaming? Yet she felt jolted awake. If her mother were alive, she would surely not have let all these years pass without sending word.
I must be hallucinating.She had heard that fevers could give people strange fancies. Just what had that doctor given her?
Or ... another explanation seized her heart.
Had she died? Died and gone to heaven—and just as many predicted, her loved ones were there on that beautiful shore to meet her. At least ... one loved one.
Laura felt twin waves of emotion wash over her. Yes, she was relieved to find herself in paradise, especially considering her recent untruths. She remembered Uncle Matthew describing God as merciful, assuring her that her sins would be forgiven if she confessed them, and for that she was grateful.
Yet, she was sad too. She wasn’t ready to leave her world behind, to leave Alexander behind. He might blame himself for her illness, and he must not. It was not his fault. She had chosen this course and would choose it again.
The elderly nurse returned with the tea. She exclaimed, “Oh,you’re back!” Turning to Laura, she asked, “Sara—I mean, Laura—can you hear me?”
Shock pinned her tongue to the roof of her mouth, leaving her unable to speak.
The older woman directed her next comment to the apparition. “The fever elixir Dr. Braun gave her contains a great deal of laudanum. A dose meant for a soldier or sailor, not a petite young woman. It’s no wonder she’s out of her senses. I’m not going to give her any more. Don’t tell him when he comes back.”
She gently touched Laura’s arm and repeated, “Miss Callaway? Can you hear me?”
Laura slowly turned her head to get her first clear look at her nurse, a kindly looking woman of at least sixty, her fair hair streaked with silver.
The nurse smiled at Laura. “There is someone here most anxious to meet you.”
Would the vision still be there? Laura turned her head the other way. Yes, still there—with a face blessedly familiar.
Laura’s throat constricted and her eyes heated. She felt stunned, elated, and betrayed all at once.
“Mamma?”
The brown eyes looking back at her filled with tears. She slowly shook her head, the movement sending glistening streaks down fair cheeks. “No, my dear. Your aunt Susan.”
Laura blinked. “But you died too.”
“No, I did not. I should have. But your father was the best physician I ever knew. I don’t know why he succumbed to the illness I survived, but he did. Your mother as well. It was so unfair. I’ve felt terribly guilty all these years.”
Laura stared at her, taking in her words and her appearance, trying to make sense of both. She had not seen her aunt Susanin many years, but she didn’t remember her looking quite so identical to her mother, who had worn spectacles and been plumper than her thin sister. And had her aunt’s hair not been darker? Or had Laura’s memory of her mother faded so much over the years, that now her sister seemed her spit and image?
She murmured, “You look ... different. Your hair...?”
Her aunt nodded. “I hated having red hair when I was young, so my maid used to darken it with a boiled walnut solution. Foolish, I realize, especially now that I see how beautiful your hair is.”
“You never wore glasses before.”
“That’s age, my dear. My eyes are not what they once were.” She patted her plump abdomen with a self-conscious smile. “Nor the rest of me.”
Laura slowly shook her head. “You look so much like her.” Or so much as Laura remembered her, at any rate.
“I take that as a sincere compliment, though it’s not surprising. We were twins after all, and so close. Not a day goes by I don’t miss her.”
Laura’s heart ached. “Me too.”
Her aunt squeezed her hand, and a few more tears escaped.
