How Dark the Night Read Free

candles. Many of them are still out there.”
    â€œDear God,” she murmured. “How very, very kind.”
    â€œThey love you, Katherine. You have touched many lives during our twenty-three years in Hingham.” He forced himself to stop there, although there was more, much more, that he ached to say to her. But he dared not continue lest his emotions overcome him. He had resolved to remain upbeat in her presence during the early days following the procedure. They both knew that her reluctance to admit to her condition and seek treatment had made matters worse than they might have been, but he was determined not to mention that. And there was, after all, no reason not to be upbeat. What he had been told privately by Dr. Prescott—and what he would no doubt hear repeated in a few minutes—was that there was every reason to be hopeful. Holding that blessed thought in mind, he placed his hand on her forehead and looked deep into her hazel eyes, “I love you,” he said softly and leaned down to kiss her lips.
    She lifted her hand to touch the side of his face and mouthed the same words back at him. Then the opiate took hold again and she drifted back to sleep.
    Richard stood, walked over to the hearth, and placed thin sticks of white birch on the hot embers. When the flames blazed up, he added a slab of heavy oak to keep the fire going. Then he slipped away through the kitchen and down the front hallway to the parlor near the entrance of the house.
    Most of his family was waiting, seated on sofas and chairs. His younger son, James, was not present—he remained on station off the Barbary Coast in Constitution —and Agreen Crabtree, Richard’s closest friend and his first officer in Portsmouth , was still at the naval base in Hampton Roads, Virginia, attending to the peacetime disposition of the 36-gun frigate that had been their command during the war against Tripoli.
    The subdued conversation ceased abruptly as Richard entered the room. All eyes followed him as he walked over to where Dr. Prescott stood in the middle of the gathering—dressed entirely in black save for the silver buckles on his shoes and the blood-red buttons of his waistcoat.
    â€œShe is resting peacefully,” Richard said to the doctor in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “She awoke for a few minutes and spoke. She says she is comfortable and in no pain.”
    â€œThat is most encouraging, Richard,” Prescott said. “We can all take comfort in that news.” He motioned Richard to a seat on a sofa next to his younger sister, Lavinia, and her husband, Stephen Starbuck, up from Duxbury. Lavinia took Richard’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze of sympathy.
    Prescott cleared his throat. “Thank you for the gift of your family,” he started in. “That may seem an odd thing to say at this moment, but you are the key to Katherine’s recovery. Never in my many years of practicing medicine have I encountered another family so beloved by each other and by an entire community. Have you looked outside? Those good people, waiting there, your friends and neighbors, reflect that. They stand there for Mrs. Cutler, of course; but in truth they stand for you all.”
    Diana Cutler, the mirror image of her mother when she was seventeen, gave a wrenching sob, overcome by her fear and despair. Adele Endicott Cutler, who was sitting beside her, raised a hand and began gently kneading the nape of Diana’s neck. Adele’s husband, Will Cutler, could only gaze helplessly at his distraught sister.
    Dr. Prescott addressed Diana directly. “It is good to weep,” he comforted. “Tears express love and they cleanse the soul. Your mother’s travails in this process have been many, and they have been difficult, as they have been for you all. But I assure you that the worst is over now, certainly for the time being. As I have told Captain Cutler, we have every reason to be