Chapter 23 – Happy Endings…
Mrs. Aquitaine, woke with a start, a chill had begun to run through her body. Turning over it quickly became clear as to the why. It appeared her husband had left the bed. She rolled on to her back, and stared at the ceiling, trying to will herself back to sleep. It was a losing battle.
She sighed. He was probably in his study again. He didn’t seem to sleep much these days. She had hoped the looming mantle of retirement would have slowed her husband down, but alas, the only thing it appeared to do was light a fire under the man. Late nights toiling away in the study, skipping morning meals to rush into the office. Retirement couldn’t come soon enough for her. She missed his presence.
Though if she was really honest, she was a little terrified what it would mean to have him home all the time. There were certainly times he had been less busy, but the man had always worked six days a week. It had been hard, but if you looked at the balance of their forty-year marriage, the good times out-weighed the bad in every category.
If only she could get the man to slow down, and maybe eat a salad or two, which reminded her, she needed to get his pants to the tailor. For a man who skipped meals, he somehow still managed to grow out of his pants. How did he do that?! No matter, once he retired, she’d see to it that!
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Them both being retired. It would be nice to share a morning meal again, take walks, have a nice dinner out. Be a couple again…
As she laid there she imagined all the things the two of them could do. Slowly her reminiscing gave way to dreaming and her eyes grew heavy with the weight of sleep. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, she slipped into a peaceful respite, carried off by pleasant dreams of the future.
Some hours later she woke again with a start. The blanket that had provided the warmth, left missing by her husband, had abandoned her too. Fallen to the floor.
She rolled over once again to find his side still empty. Her brow creased in a frown, while it was not unusual for her husband to keep late nights, this late, probably meant he’d once again fallen asleep in his chair. Cursing the man she loved, she shuffled out of bed. Best to wake him now, else he’d feel it even worse in the morning.
Pulling the robe from the hook where it resided, she pulled it tight to her body, trying to fight off some of the chill. Secure in her evening attire, she opened the door and sleepily shuffled down the hall towards his study.
“Henry, you’ve fallen asleep again.” She called out to her husband as she drew near the study.
She knocked on the door, hoping to rouse him from his slumber. The knock swung the door open a sliver. Realizing it wasn’t shut, she pushed the door open further, exposing the interiors of the dimly lit study.
“Henry dear, why don’t you come to bed? It’s late” She could see her husband slouched over in his chair. The fog beginning to clear from her mind, it became apparent to Ms. Aquitaine, that something was wrong. “Henry?”
She moved closer to her husband growing more worried. “Henry? Answer me!”
She placed a hand on his shoulder and another on his forehead, pushing the man’s head back, looking for signs of life.
“No.” It came out in a horrified whisper. “No. No. No! Henry, answer me please! Henry!” . Only then did she realized the sensation of wetness coming from the palm of her hand.
Falling back against the desk, she pulled her hand away. Shaking, she turned it to see her palm. It was…red? It was….but how….
Slowly, horrified, she looked up from her hand to the body of her husband, she hadn’t noticed it when she’d come in the room, but the shadow seeping across her husband’s chest wasn’t a trick of the light. Mrs. Aquitaine tried to let out the anguished scream. She collapsed onto the floor, back against the desk. In a state of shock and horror, she willed herself to move, to scream, to do anything but stare at the bloodied hand in front of her. It was no use, she had seemingly lost control. All she could do was stare in horror at the blood on her palm. Slowly, her horror turned to tears and quiet anguished sobs.
Too wrapped up in her own pain, Mrs. Aquitaine never saw the individual standing in the shadows of the hallway. Having watched the discovery in silence, they now turned and quietly padded away, followed by the soft sobs of a widow in mourning.