Chapter Forty-Six
Jacob planned to make his departure the day after Thanksgiving, but during the meal, Fionn spun a yarn about a grandfather back in Ireland who wrote his will in the Irish language so he could throw in the occasional curse at the British. Jacob hadn’t considered a will. He'd had one drawn up before he left for the war, but that document didn’t reflect his new holdings in California. Or the fact that he now had three daughters to consider, not just one. Most likely no one would question his claim to Grace, but Claire was another matter. Everyone knew she wasn’t his biological daughter, and he hadn’t legally adopted her. If he didn’t include her in a will, she’d have no legal claim to any part of his estate. Surely Will would ensure she was provided for, but Jacob didn’t want his brother to have to decide how to split up his property. He’d been enough trouble for Will already. The least he could do was leave everything neat and tidy.
Getting the will drawn up delayed him another four days, but it couldn’t be helped. Jacob used the extra time to update the accounting ledgers and supply inventories at the store. He hated the bookkeeping end of running a business and had considered hiring someone to do it for him, but there was no use of that now. When Luo Jun remarked on his sudden passion for arithmetic, Jacob stammered something about wanting to be ready for the holiday rush.
He stayed busy enough that his days weren’t so bad, but at night, his mind fixated on dead faces. Eleanor. Johnny, the drummer boy. Soldier after soldier after soldier. Even Hannah, whose death from Bright’s disease had been no one’s fault. He lay awake in bed each night, sweating and sobbing into his pillow, until he swallowed a dose of laudanum. He now dreaded those quiet evening hours he’d always cherished after he’d tucked Grace into bed and could relax after a long day with a good book and a small brandy. He couldn’t wait for Friday.
On Thursday night, he sat up in the parlor with a brandy and stared at the clock on the mantel until he was certain Grace was asleep. He crept into her room, set a small candle on her dresser so he wouldn’t fumble about in the dark and wake her, and knelt on the floor next to her bed. She lay on her stomach, her head turned toward him, and her dark hair splayed across the pillow behind her. He closed his eyes and listened to her gentle breathing, almost as familiar to him as his own from all those nights she’d slept next to him as a baby. He wished he could curl up next to her now, but, like most small children, she now wiggled so much in her sleep he knew he'd spend the entire night being kicked in the spleen. He reached out and stroked her hair. It had lost its babyhood downiness, but Luo Shu’s dedicated washing and brushing kept it soft and silky. He let the strands fall through his fingers, then studied her face, trying to memorize every detail. The long lashes that brushed her cheekbones, the single freckle toward the bottom of her right cheek. The way her lips poked out when she slept. No doubt she would be a stunning young woman someday. But, more importantly, he hoped she would be kind and curious and happy.
“Thank you for being my little girl,” he whispered. “Don’t forget me, all right? Papa loves you. I will miss you so much.” He kissed her cheek, wiped a tear from his eye, and slipped quietly out of the room.
******
“I need to stay late at the store tonight,” Jacob told Luo Shu the next morning when she arrived. “Could you please take Grace out to Lyddie and Fionn’s this afternoon? Jim down at the livery will hitch up the buggy for you.”
The governess nodded. “Shall I pack a bag for her, sir?”
“Please. Enough for two nights, just in case I can’t get out there tomorrow to fetch her. Lyddie doesn’t know she’s coming, so I wrote her a note.” He passed her a small envelope. He’d been careful in writing the note yesterday. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Lyddie an outright falsehood and say he’d be by Saturday or Sunday to pick up Grace, but nor could he divulge his true plan. Instead, he simply said he had business to take care of this weekend and apologized if he was inconveniencing her.
“Are we going to Lyddie’s?” Grace asked, tugging on his jacket.
Jacob smiled and knelt in front of her. “You are,” he said brightly. “You get to spend the night and everything.”
“Yay, Lyddie!” Grace clapped her hands and jumped up and down.
Jacob chuckled and, when she’d quit bouncing, kissed her forehead. “Be good for your sister.” He took her by both shoulders and stared deep into her bright blue eyes. “I love you so much.”
“Wuv you,” she said and kissed his cheek.
Before he could change his mind, Jacob stood and nudged the child toward her governess. He nodded to Luo Shu and strode out the door to make his final walk to the store.
******
The day passed surprisingly quickly. He doubted his plan once or twice, but seeing how well he’d put the store in order eased his mind. And after signing his will, a customer he’d not seen for some time stopped him on the sidewalk to express his condolences over Eleanor. The Minié ball glowed hot in his pocket, and Jacob knew he was making the right decision. The sense of giddy relief he’d had a couple weeks ago returned, and he spent his last afternoon at the store smiling.
There was no need to stay late. Everything was in order. Right at five o’clock, he bid Luo Jun goodbye and headed for home.
His spirits dropped when he stepped through his front door and Grace didn’t run to greet him as she always did. Losing Eleanor had been traumatic enough for the little girl. She didn’t need to be the one to discover her father’s body tomorrow morning.
He hung his hat and jacket on their pegs and spent the next hour or so fussing around the house, making sure everything was tidy and organized. He considered tossing his medical texts into the fire, but he stopped himself. These books were expensive. The money Will could get selling them would put at least two new pairs of shoes on Claire’s and Grace’s feet.
Though Jacob had never asked her to clean, Luo Shu kept the house in such good order that there was little for Jacob to do. He walked through his house one last time, taking in each room. Someone else could raise a little family here. A whole family with two parents who weren’t useless like him.
“How long are you going to drag this out?” the Minié ball said.
Jacob nodded. The bullet was right. It was time.
He doused the fire, went into his bedroom, and sat at his desk. He’d tried the night before to write a note to Will—a forthright note, not an elusive one like he’d written to Lyddie—but he hadn’t been able to find the right words. He dipped his pen in ink and hovered it over the blank sheet of paper for so long a droplet of ink dripped onto the paper. He didn’t bother to blot it away. He could sit here all night and still not be able to compose a proper letter to his brother explaining his actions. He sighed and scrawled out two small words: I’m sorry.
It summed everything up. He was sorry for the inconvenience he’d cause Will by forcing him to dispense with his property and care for Claire. He was sorry he was a coward. He was sorry for being an embarrassment to the family. He was a sorry excuse for a man. And he was so very sorry for all the deaths he’d caused.
He slipped his new will under the note and left the small stack in the middle of the desk.
Before he stood, he unlaced his shoes, slipped them off, and set them in the corner next to the desk where he always left them. He opened his wardrobe and took the bottle of laudanum from the top shelf. He stared at the bottle and shook his head. He didn’t deserve such an easy way out. But on top of everything else he was already leaving for his family to deal with, he didn’t want any of them to have to clean up a mess as well. A lethal dose of laudanum would put him to sleep, and he’d simply stop breathing. Neat and simple. He picked up Hannah’s portrait from his desktop, carried it and the bottle to his bed, and sat down. He set the portrait on his night table and leaned back against his pillows. He stretched out one finger and ran it down the portrait frame’s glass.
“See you soon, my love,” he whispered. He unstoppered the bottle and took a large swig. Within moments, he felt as if he were floating. His eyes drooped closed, and his head dropped back against the pillows, a small smile lilting on his face.