Chapter 37

I recalled mention by someone of Abel Mobley as a stumbling drunkard in my mind. “Though mostly I cannot recount I ever witnessed it firsthand,” I told Ewan.

“Some people stop,” he said.

“I wonder if my mother ever could have, and I’m sorry your father never did.”

There was no mention in Georgia’s recorded thoughts of Virginia ever dying. Maybe Georgia had been too far gone to know that she had. Abel Mobley suggested that Virginia, while healthy enough to do so, may have used her medical training and certain preparations to keep Georgia slightly in balance. Once Virginia had passed, Georgia had gotten quickly and irrevocably worse.

I brought a tray to Ewan for breakfast the first normal morning after days that were anything but.

“How much longer must I stay in this bed?” he complained.

“The doctor said…a week.”

“I want to get up!” Ewan said.

“Or I…can…get into bed…with you.”

“Well…” Ewan smiled. “Doctor’s orders and such…”