Thurston House Read Free Page B

an hour later when the doctor came for him. John jumped up as though he'd been shot.
    Barnaby?
    He's calling for you. The doctor didn't dare say more, but his eyes met Jeremiah's as John raced up the stairs to his son, and in answer to the question in Jeremiah's eyes, he only shook his head. Jeremiah, sitting downstairs, knew instantly from the terrible moan of pain he heard from the little room at the top of the stairs that the boy was gone. John Harte knelt with the boy in his arms, keening for the family he had lost in two short days. With a determined step Jeremiah walked solemnly up the stairs, and gently opened the door to the room. Thurston took the boy from him at last, laid him on the bed, closed his eyes, and led John Harte from the room as he sobbed the child's name. He forced strong drink down Harte's throat and stayed with him until the next morning, when his brother and several other friends came, and then Jeremiah quietly went home, aching for him. He was exactly the same age Jeremiah had been when Jennie had died. He wondered how it would affect John Harte, but he suspected from the little he knew of him that the boy would press on.
    He grieved for him now, and when he dismounted in front of his own house, with the morning sun climbing high into the sky, he looked out over the hills he loved so much and wondered at the cruel fate that could deal life and death so easily ' how swiftly life's sweetest gifts are gone ' he seemed to hear Jennie's laughter ringing in his ears as he went inside, and saw Hannah asleep in a kitchen chair. He said nothing to her as he walked past her into the parlor he never used, and sat down at the piano he had bought so long ago for the girl with the laughing eyes and the dancing golden curls lovely she had been. He wondered what it would have been like to be married to her how many children they might have had it was the first time in a long time that he had allowed his mind to run along those lines; he thought of John Harte's lost daughter and son, and hoped he would marry again soon. That was what Harte needed now, a new wife to fill his heart, and new babies to replace the two who had died.
    And yet it wasn't what Jeremiah had done. He had remained alone for the past eighteen years, and it was too late now. He would never change that. He had no desire to. But as he sat looking down at the piano keys, yellowing now, never touched, never used, he wondered if he should have done what he thought John Harte should do. Should he have married someone else? Had a dozen children to fill his empty house? But there had never been anyone who captured his heart, no one he liked well enough to marry. No, there would be no children for him. But as he thought the words to himself, he felt a tiny shaft of grief slice through his heart' . A child would have been so nice ' a daughter' a son ' and then, suddenly, he remembered the two John Harte had lost, and he felt something inside him close tight. No. He couldn't bear another loss. He had lost Jennie. That was enough. He was better off like this ' wasn't he?
    What happened? He was startled to hear Hannah's voice, and he looked up to see her standing in the empty room, as he fingered the piano keys. He stopped and looked at her, tired, depressed. It had been a long, sad night.
    Harte's boy died. He almost winced as he remembered closing the boy's eyes and taking John Harte forcibly from the room. Hannah shook her head and began to cry, as Jeremiah walked slowly to her, put an arm around her shoulders, and led her from the room. There was nothing left to say. Go home and get some sleep.
    She looked up at him and sniffed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. You should do the same. But she knew him better than that. Will you?
    I've got some work to do at the mines.
    It's Saturday.
    The papers on my desk don't know that. He smiled tiredly. There was no way he could go to bed and sleep. He would have been haunted by the vision of Barnaby Harte and