Richard died two days later, as did Agnes. Other villagers had come down with sickness, and it was these whom Elias and Simon tried to help.
Elias had tried to comfort Lily in her loss but she would not let him. She mourned her husband in the church. With Simon. For a full day, until Cecily got sick.
Much of the time she remained at Cecily’s side. When she wasn’t there, Elias was, seeing to Cecily and helping Charlie through it.
Elias had never witnessed the grief of losing a beloved spouse, or a dear friend. But if he lost Simon…he understood that kind of pain. Lily didn’t expunge her sorrow with tears, or with words. She was keeping all her emotions tied up inside.
“Eli?” said Annabelle, standing behind him, the tips of her toes on his stool where he sat. She’d cried into his shoulder while Father Benedict prayed over her mother’s body earlier this morning. She leaned across his back with her chin on his shoulder now. “Are you not going out to search for Bertram this morning?”
“Not today,” he told her. He couldn’t go when Cecily was so sick. He’d been out searching, tracking. Bertram was gone. For now.
“There you are, Annabelle.” Lily’s satiny, soothing voice washed over him.
His gaze remained on Cecily in the chair before him.
“Would you like to come help me pick my herbs for supper?”
Elias’ blood drained from his head. He forgot to breathe. Was she speaking to him?
“Aye, I want to come!” Annabelle squeaked, moving away from his ear.
He couldn’t help but smile. Annabelle was a babe. This was too much for a babe. It was all she was seeing. He’d meant to take her fishing with him but then Richard and the others died and Cecily got sick—and Lily either spent her time doing things, or praying. There had been no time for Annabelle.
Did this mean Lily was feeling a little better?
He reached around and scooped Annabelle up in his arm and saw her gently to her feet. He turned to smile at the gel and caught Lily’s eye.
She let her gaze linger on his for a moment and then she looked away shyly.
Elias watched them leave and then felt Charlie tug on his sleeve.
“Why are you staying so close today, Eli?” Charlie asked him, his huge dark eyes wide. He still had dark circles under his eyes from being sick, but he’d grown stronger over the last pair of days. Elias was more thankful than he could express.
“Do you believe Cecily is worse?”
Elias closed his eyes and nodded.
“Bad enough to die today?” the lad asked, his voice crackled with tears that he let roll down his face.
“Aye, lad.” Elias didn’t want to say it but the sickness seemed to ravage some more quickly than others. Cecily fell ill a day and a half ago and was unresponsive in a matter of hours. Her neck, under her arms, and above her pelvis were covered in boils, as had everyone else’s been who died.
Some went more slowly, like Walter. Others, more quickly.
“Charlie, why do ye not go with Lily? Some sun will do ye good.”
Charlie shook his head. “I will stay with my sister.”
Elias nodded and reached out to pat the lad on the shoulder.
When Cecily left them a few hours later, Elias leaned over his chair and pulled Charlie’s head closer. He held the lad’s face in his hands and spoke comforting words. But Charlie didn’t want them. He wanted to fight and pummel his way through any wall—even one made of hard muscle.
Elias put his arms around the boy and held him while he wept. Charlie responded by coiling his arms around Elias’ neck and holding on to him as if his life depended on it.
Elias didn’t worry over what to say. There were no words, so he stayed quiet.
His heart broke for Charlie—for everyone. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to go fight. Was he becoming weak over this woman and the people she loved?
There was nothing he could do about it.