Page 7 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

The cats ran out of the bathroom.

My heart sank. Had she heard me talking to myself? I had heard of girls being dismissed from domestic work for far less. She might think talking to myself was some sort of mental failing. I could see the Dickinsons, who were so learned, not wanting such a person in their home. Or worse, had Miss Dickinson finally told her about Henry’s visit? Here I was practicing a speech to Henry about finding new employment, and I would have to do the same for myself in a matter of minutes.

She led me out of the bath and down the main stairs that the family used to the same sitting room where she had conducted my interview.

“Willa, will you please sit?” She pointed at the sofa.

I blinked and did as I was asked. She was asking me to sit? This was bad. Perhaps even worse than I first thought, but what could be worse than losing my position? I didn’t have any fallback. I needed the money so that Henry could rent a room and not be sleeping in what I imagined was a filthy barn.

It was then when I noticed that Miss O’Brien fidgeted with her hands. It was as if she didn’t know what she should do with them. She held her skirts, let them go. Squeezed her hands into fists, let them fall to her sides.

I cleared my throat. “Miss O’Brien, is everything all right?”

She looked at me then with tears in her eyes. She blinked them away, and I wondered if they had been there at all or just a trick of the sunlight pouring in through the window. After a week of cold rain, we had a beautiful winter day before us, and from where I sat I had a clear view of the gardens that I so desperately wanted to explore. Even in their dormant state for the winter, I looked forward to seeing them, of glimpsing the promise of what might be, come spring. I had always loved growing things. My mother had a small window garden in our rooms growing up. At least for a while until things became more difficult. I dragged my thoughts to the present. Today was a beautiful day. It was the type of day on which nothing bad could happen. It wasn’t possible for such a fine day to be marred by bad news.

“I’m afraid that everything is not all right, Willa. When was the last time you saw your brother?”

I stared at her. I had been right after all. Miss Dickinson had told her about Henry’s visit, but then, how would either of them know it was my brother who came through the window?

“I ask you this because there has been an accident.” Her eyes were sad again. “Your brother was killed last night.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry or react at all. What she said didn’t sound like it could be real. What did she mean that Henry was killed last night? Did she mean that Henry was dead? But that couldn’t be. I had just spoken to him four days ago. He climbed up the side of the Dickinson house like the monkeys I had read about in books. He could not be dead. A dead man could not do such a thing. He was well. He’d always been well. Yes, he got caught in scrapes from time to time, but like a cat, he always landed on his feet. I was the one who didn’t land on my feet, but Henry did! I had witnessed it hundreds of times.

Miss O’Brien peered at me. “Willa, are you quite all right? Do you understand what I have said? Your brother is dead. He was found this morning in the livery stables where he worked. The police said he was trampled when one of the horses became spooked. It seems that he tried to calm it and went into the stall and was crushed,” she said.

Henry was dead? Henry was dead and they were blaming his death on him? Because he went into the stall to calm a horse? That wasn’t his fault. He did the right thing, didn’t he? He worked in the stable. It was his job to calm the horse.

“Willa, are you all right?”

I stared at her. It was such a strange question for her to ask. Did she not see the oddity of the inquiry? Did she not see the giant pit before me about to swallow me whole? Did she not know that if I could, I would jump into that pit and disappear?

My mouth felt dry and I opened it. “Who told you this?” It was the only question I could manage.

“A young officer came to the house this morning. He said his name was Officer Thomas. He wanted to tell you himself, but I told him I would.”

My chest tightened. Matthew. Matthew was the one who told her my brother was dead. Of course, it would be Matthew.

The tears came then as if a well had opened up in my heart. They gathered in my eyes and spilled over. My chest heaved up and down. I wasn’t conscious of any sound because I felt like someone had rolled up balls of wool and stuck them in both of my ears. I couldn’t hear myself. I couldn’t hear anything.

Miss O’Brien stood and moved to stand in front of me. Then she perched next to me on the sofa and patted my hand. “Take care, child. Wipe away your tears. When you’re struggling so, you must rein in your emotions. You mustn’t let them take you over like this. What’s done is done. This life has many hard moments. We cannot dwell in sadness. There’s not the time.”

Numbly, I nodded, but I had no idea how to do what she was asking me to do. How could I not dwell, how could I not drown, in this sadness?

“It is time to move about your day. See, the fire in this room needs tending.” She pointed at the cold fireplace. “Working with your hands will drive your hardship away. Tears will make it worse.”

How could I move about my day and tend the fire like she asked? My brother was dead. I was utterly alone in the world. The hardship of that could never be driven away. I had no one. No one. And more than that, my brother, who had so much promise, was gone. I knew his schemes were crazy. I knew that he had wild ideas, which, frankly, scared me most of the time, but I think in the deepest place in my heart, I believed him. I believed that he would strike it rich one day. I believed him that he would pull us out of our station in life. That dream was dead. As dead as my little brother, who I loved so dear.

“The police said they would be back in the afternoon to talk to you. Since we don’t know how long that will take, it is best to finish your chores before they arrive.”

I looked at her, and tears so big that they could drown a man rolled down my face. “Why would the police want to talk to me? I wasn’t at the livery when he died.”

She shook her head. “I do not know. They would have talked to you right away, but I told them that you’d need some time. It’s best to resolve whatever you are feeling before they arrive. You can’t let the police see you weak. That’s when you will find yourself in the most trouble.”

I bit my lip. I was grateful to Miss O’Brien for that kindness more than she could ever know. She was tough, maybe harsh even, but I knew that she was trying to protect me. She was right not to show the police weakness. I knew this firsthand. I would not want Matthew to see me as I am now.

She patted my hand a second time and rose from her seat. “I have work to do, and so do you. Let’s get on with it.” She pointed at the coal bucket and shovel by the fireplace. “You will see that I have already brought up the bucket so you can clean the fireplace. Distraction is the key for surviving grief, my girl.” She lowered her voice. “Trust me. I know this acutely well. I will finish the bathroom for you.” With that she left the room.

After she was gone, I remained on the sofa. How long I stayed there, I didn’t know. It could have been mere minutes. It could have been days with the sun and moon rising and falling without me even being aware of their journey across the sky.

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