Chapter 28

Candy sifted through Albert's things, softly touching his clothes still bearing the scent of his body, a trace of his cologne. She didn't have the strength yet to empty his wardrobe. Maybe in a few days… She walked into his study; it was cold, the house staff had not thought to light the fire. She sat on his large chair behind his desk and started to go slowly through his drawers, she had to assist the solicitor with all sorts of practical matters following her husband's funeral.

Her eyes fell on a leather box, a small key keeping it locked. She took it out of the drawer and placed it on the desk. Her fingers caressed it lightly, some tiny specks of dust covering the top. She unlocked it. Albert's passport, a few letters, photographs of herself and the children, his reading glasses and a leather-bound travel diary. That same one she gave him as a Christmas present a very, very long time ago.

She looked at his smiling photo in the passport and smiled back at him unconsciously. She recognised the letters... she had sent them to him all these years ago, but he still had them, he had kept them and took them with him wherever he travelled. Oh Albert, her eyes welled up with tears... she read...

Dear Albert,

What are you doing right now? I just put the children to bed. It is a little early in the season but we are already using the heater! The seasons are passing very quickly. It has already been a year since Stear died. It has been more than a half year since I returned to Pony's Home. I was happy to see you the other time, but it was sad that it was on the occasion of Stear's death. Even though it was Lakewood, everyone seemed very sad, probably because we were gathered there for the memorial. That memorial room was full of the memories of Lakewood. Even Archie felt it when he came into that room. At that time I saw many of the portraits of the people who are in the Ardlay family, including Anthony and Stear's portraits. Seeing all these portraits, on top of that I felt intense emotions. Albert, it seemed as though you completely closed yourself off in that room. I can understand why: Rosemary Brown. Anthony's mother was a beautiful woman. Albert, was there something that you wanted to speak to me about in that room? I got that feeling, so I've taken up a pen to write to you.

Take care,

Candy

She leaned back on the leather chair, lost in memories. Just like that night years ago when they sat together in London and read their respective letters to each other. They had laughed and they had cried and in the end they had stayed up the whole night talking and never slept at all.

She looked out of the window. The light was fading already, the cool autumn evenings were starting to draw in. She shivered... She got up and went to the fireplace, fumbled with the chopped up logs and managed to start a fire. That was always something Albert liked to do for her, to make her a nice, roaring fire; she remembered his strong physique carrying in the dry hardwood, his expert hands arranging the kindling and crumpled pieces of paper exactly right for the fire to start and last... how I miss you my love, she thought. She sat in the comfortable armchair next to the fireplace. From there she could see out of the window, a bunch of yellowed leaves and dried rose petals dancing in the autumn wind. She opened the second envelope.

Dear William Albert Ardlay,

I read your letter over and over. It is not easy for everyone to carry on their own life. Now I realize it. And I'm so glad that I feel you are much closer to me. I'm also happy to know about George and Anthony's mother. It is very beautiful to get to know people in my life. Many years have passed since I met you at Pony's hill. Since we met at first, there have been many sad "goodbyes". But I believed that a better tomorrow would come. The brooch is ringing at my chest. When you go and travel, please take me with you anywhere! If you say No, I'm going with you! Oh, Albert...It is wonderful to live! Wow! I can't sleep tonight! I'm so excited to think what happens tomorrow! When there is a knock on the door, then you might be there, Albert! I'm so grateful to my parents; because if they hadn't left me at Pony's Home, I would not have met you. Oh, Sister Pony says don't stay up late. She always treats me like a baby. Well, I'm going to have a wonderful dream tonight. Good Night, Albert.

With love,
Candice White Ardlay

Candy was smiling and weeping at the same time gazing into the fire. Dear Albert, she thought. She could see in her own letters how her feelings for him deepened with time, how her heart longed to see him, even when her mind was not quite ready yet to understand that he was the one for her. And all these years she had no idea just how much he treasured her letters, did he read them again himself from time to time?

There was a knock on the door "I am sorry to disturb you Madam, would you like your dinner to be served here tonight?" the young girl asked.

Candy looked at her confused for a few seconds, her mind miles away...

"What...? Sorry Agnes I wasn't paying attention, what did you say dear? Dinner... yes, dinner, no, actually I am OK, I don't need anything, a cup of tea perhaps and something light, if you don't mind."

"Certainly Ma'am, I will see to it at once" and closed the door behind her.

The phone on Albert's desk rang. She went over to pick it up; it was Elroy. "Hi mum, how are you doing?"

They chatted for a little while. Candy knew her daughter was concerned about her. The children had been getting in touch daily to see if she was doing OK. They were a bit unhappy she had chosen to stay at Lakewood on her own, especially with winter coming; but Candy was adamant. That was the place Albert and she had first met, and some of their most wonderful memories were rooted there. She was so grateful they had managed to buy the place back after the great fire and refurbish it over time. It was a fresh start for them, it gave them the opportunity to design some of the house according to their respective memories there but also the chance to introduce new ideas, shapes and textures, closer to their taste and that of their children.

Yes, she loved this place... she remembered once Albert and her were in the car and he was driving them home after a business trip when he asked her, where is really home for you Candy? Chicago, Lakewood, Ponny's Hill, London even?

And Candy had pondered this for a little while and then said "home is here. In this car. With you. Home is where you are." But if he had persisted in his question and pushed her to name a place, it would definitely have to be Lakewood. There was too much of her here, of him, of memories that time could never make fade. And she was happy to be back here now.

She liked to have the freedom to go out into the woods and ride her horse, take the boat out sailing, work in the garden, go visit Albert's grave... she went daily. She brought fresh flowers and kept the candles lit. She talked to him every day as if he had never left; because he had never left her mind. She didn't feel she could cope with facing Chicago's busy life right now.

She missed her children and grandchildren terribly, but they made a great effort to come and visit her as frequently as possible. Annie and Patty were also due to come and spend a few days with her; she was so looking forward to that!

"Elroy dear, I have to go now, my tea has just arrived... I miss you too sweetheart, we will speak soon, please, give my love to Patrick and the children" she hung up.

She picked at her food rather uninterested and then started to leaf slowly through the diary.

There were dates and travel plans, business notes and hurried impressions of the many destinations her husband had visited over the years. And then there were tiny scribbles bearing her name…

19th of September 1915

On the train to Buenos Aires

And if the branches tap my pane

And the poplars whisper nightly,

It is to make me dream again

I hold you to me tightly.

And if the stars shine on the pond

And light its sombre shoal,

It is to quench my mind's despond

And flood with peace my soul.

And if the clouds their tresses part

And does the moon out-blaze,

It is but to remind my heart

I long for you always.

When am I going to see you again, my beloved?

Her eyes filled with tears… she turned a few pages, Albert's tidy handwriting followed her eyes as she scanned eagerly the text. More appointments, more travel plans... She pressed the open diary on her cheek as if to smell his scent, to feel his hand on her face again. She felt lonely... Albert... she didn't know all these years how his love for her inspired him to capture his feelings in beautiful verse. She turned another page...

21st of November 1915

Montreal, Hotel Royal, Room 514

I received a letter from Candy today. God, how I miss her! I miss her eyes, her smile, her bright laughter… Candy… I still remember that night last summer when she hid in my arms on that balcony, the feel of her velvety skin on mine, her soft breath on my chest… has it really been so long since I last saw her?

Take breath away from me, if you wish,

take air away,

but do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,

the lance flower that you pluck,

the water that suddenly

bursts forth in your joy,

the sudden wave

of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back

with eyes tired at times

from having seen

the unchanging earth,

but when your laughter enters

it rises to the sky seeking me

and it opens for me all

the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest

hour your laughter

opens, and if suddenly

you see my blood staining

the stones of the street,

laugh, because your laughter

will be for my hands

like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,

your laughter must raise

its foamy cascade

and in the spring, love,

I want your laughter like

the flower I was waiting for,

the blue flower, the rose

of my echoing soul.

Laugh at the night,

at the day, at the moon,

laugh at the twisted

streets of the island,

laugh at this clumsy

boy who loves you,

but when I open

my eyes and close them,

when my steps go,

when my steps return,

deny me bread, air

light, spring,

but never your laughter

for I would die.

It was almost three in the morning when she suddenly woke up. She had dozed off curled up on the armchair; the fire next to her almost completely out. She realized she was still clutching at Albert's diary tightly as it if it was an extension of her own hand. She tried to get up, her felt light-headed, possibly from the awkward position she had been sleeping or the plentiful tears she had shed reading her late husband's diary.

She walked to the window, it was dark but the sky had cleared, she could see shimmering stars sending their distant light into the darkness. She felt cold. She turned around to go to her bedroom when she saw him. I am losing my mind, she thought. She should have been frightened by the apparition but she was totally calm.

She walked slowly towards him "Albert? Is that you? Have you come to take me?" she asked hopefully.

He looked ethereal, dressed in his Highland kilt, his freshly polished Ardlay brooch pinned on his chest; he was young again, his long blond hair framing his handsome face like a circle of light, his blue eyes looking at her with enormous warmth and kindness, a loving smile on his face.

He didn't speak but she thought she heard his voice in her head "not yet, my darling, not yet. When the time is right, I will be here to take you close to me, I promise." He started to fade into the darkness of the room,

"Albert, Albert, please, don't leave, please, stay with me, stay… Albert…" She woke up suddenly, shuddering, light sweat on her forehead. "Honey?" she cried out.

She realized she had been dreaming… she switched on the table lamp next to her armchair. Albert's diary had fallen off her hand and was lying open on the floor next to her. She bent to pick it up. On the open page it read

Love dragged its tail of pain,

Its train of static thorns behind it

And we closed our eyes, so that nothing

So that no wound could divide us…

Yes, Albert, she thought, the day will come again when nothing will ever separate us. A sad smile formed on her face. She looked outside the window. A new dawn was breaking…

(***)

The tall man walked into the doctor's office with an air of unbounded confidence. It wasn't a recently acquired or practiced trait. His demeanour was something more like the result of a healthy and happy upbringing, a man whose intellectual horizons and belief in himself had been strongly reinforced since the first day of his life. He shook the elderly man's hand, who motioned him to sit.

"Thank you for making time to see me, Uncle Eirik", he said respectfully, "I know you are busy. I hope I am not disturbing you and aunt Martha."

The doctor waved his hand in the air and smiled kindly.

"Not at all, Anthony, not at all. I hope you know it is always a pleasure to see you. Martha is out at the moment but I will let her know you dropped by. How are Elaine and the children, is everyone at home OK?"

Anthony nodded "yes, thank you, we are all fine, busy of course, there have been quite a few things to attend to since... well..." he let his voice trail off.

"Uncle... it's actually Mother I've come to talk to you about. If you don't mind that is..."

Eirik rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and folded his hands into a steeple, contemplating Anthony's next sentence. He could see from the strain on his face that he had been anxious and preoccupied. Sensing the young man's awkwardness, he cleared his throat and spoke first.

"I expect you are worried about her. After..."

Anthony sighed and continued more steadily now, his voice tight with concern.

"Yes, you are right, we are all worried. She says she is OK of course, but I don't think she is OK at all. She spends endless hours in dad's office or up at the cabin in the observatory. Sometimes I think she sleeps there too. She seems to have lost her appetite and if she wasn't so keen on the garden, I am not sure she would be coming out of the house at all. She has stopped visiting Chicago and while not unsociable, I think she keeps finding excuses to stay alone... it is much better when we go to Lakewood and she fusses over the kids as always but it is not possible for us to be there all the time... we have tried to talk to her about coming to stay with us but to no avail... it's been ten months now and there doesn't seem to be any sign that she is moving on... would it be OK if... do you think you could have a word perhaps? Rosemary is afraid she may be depressed..."

Eirik listened intently, trying to think fast of something reassuring to say. He didn't want to project his own feelings that perhaps Candy did not want to get better, that she was intentionally letting herself go... dedicating her thoughts to the one she had loved all her life...

"Of course I will talk to her Anthony, if you think it would help. I just want to make sure you appreciate that it is still too soon for your mother to get over such a big loss. When you have been so close and so much in love with someone for decades, it is very hard to forge a new, independent life again; especially at our age. But I promise I will come out to Lakewood to see her, it's been a while since we last spoke anyway and I know Martha wants to see her too."

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief and got up.

"Thank you Uncle. We do appreciate your help. It's just... we all miss dad terribly, you know we do, but we want to see her happy again. It seems like she is there but not really there, like the shell is intact but the soul is fleeting. It is killing me to see her like this and not be able to do anything. I am her only son after all, I guess I feel it is my duty to take over from where dad left and make sure she is well looked after. I hope you understand..."

Eirik patted him on the shoulder.

"Of course I do, Anthony. Of course I do."

(***)