Hush Now, Don't You Cry (Molly Murphy, #11)

Again I didn’t hesitate. I pulled off the bedclothes. I ran to get a wet wash cloth, then I lifted his nightshirt and I began to sponge him down. He moaned, tried to sit up, then collapsed again. He lay so still that I thought for a moment I had killed him. I covered him with the sheet and heard him take a faint breath. At least he was still breathing. I rested my head on the pillow beside him. “I love you,” I whispered. I took his hot hand in mine and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew a shaft of bright sunlight hit me full in the face. I woke with a start, wondering for a moment where I was and why my neck hurt like billy-o. Then I saw Daniel lying on the bed beside me. His breath was no longer ragged and his face looked peaceful. I touched his hand and it was cool. I sat there, staring at him unblinking. Dead. The word tried to force its way into my head, however hard I tried to push it back. Daniel was dead. He had died while I had slept. I hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye to him. A great bubble of rage and despair came into my throat.

“No!” I shouted. “No. No.”

Daniel’s eyes flickered slowly open. “What’s all this racket about?” he murmured in a husky voice.





Nineteen

For a moment I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Then his eyes focused on me and he smiled with recognition.

“Daniel. You’re alive.” I threw myself on him and covered his cheek and forehead with kisses.

“What have I done to deserve such a display of affection?” he asked, bringing the words out with difficulty as if it was a big effort to talk.

“You nearly died, you idiot,” I said. “I’ve been up with you all night. The doctor was here and he had pretty much given up hope. And the priest gave you the last rites.”

“That’s funny. I seem to remember hearing Latin and I kept telling myself that I was late for church and I’d get into trouble. I believe I thought I was still an altar boy.” He turned away and stared up at the ceiling. “I had all kinds of bad dreams. People trying to kill me. Monsters trying to swallow me alive.”

“I know. You were hallucinating. You kept thrashing around and kicking the covers off.”

“I was too hot.”

“I know you were. That doctor told me to keep you covered so that you’d sweat out the disease, but I couldn’t stand to see you as hot as that. I took the covers off and sponged you down.”

“Typical Molly, doing exactly what she was told not to.” He gave me a tired smile and closed his eyes again.

“I was scared that I’d killed you,” I said. “I was so scared, Daniel. I thought you were going to die.” And a great hiccupping sob escaped from my throat.

He reached up and stroked my cheek. “There, there,” he said. “Don’t cry. I’m still here and everything’s going to be just fine.”

“Yes,” I said, unable to stop the tears now. “Everything will be just fine. I’ll go and make us both a cup of tea.”

Daniel had just fallen asleep again when there was a tap at my front door and Mrs. Flannery was standing there. “We’ve just come back from church, so I thought I ought to stop by and see how you were doing,” she said and she came into the front hall without being invited.

“Oh, church. Is it Sunday?”

She nodded. “A terrible business. They go so quickly with pneumonia, don’t they? But at least my brother gave him the last rites, and that’s a comfort, isn’t it?”

“Mrs. Flannery, he’s fine. That is, he’s not fine yet, but he’s much better. The fever broke. He’s breathing almost normally again.”

Her face lit up. “Well, that’s a miracle, isn’t it? I’m so happy for you, my dear. Mrs. McCreedy was going to send over one of the local girls to help you out but I’ll be happy to cook you a good breakfast. What would you say to ham and eggs and maybe some flapjacks? Perhaps your man could take a lightly boiled egg?”

I was going to turn her down but then I realized how drained I felt. “If you’re sure you don’t mind,” I said.

She took off her hat, hanging it on the peg. “Nonsense. I’ve been used to hard work all my life,” she said. “It doesn’t come easily to me to have servants fussing around and me not lifting a finger. Why I cooked and cleaned for the six of us when our parents died and I was just eleven years old. Brian went out to work at twelve to support us all but I had to become the mother.”

“I had to do the same thing,” I said. “My mother died and I had to stop my schooling to look after my little brothers.”

“Did you now? At least it makes us stronger people, doesn’t it? More able to handle trouble and tragedy.” She went through into the kitchen.

“It was good of you to come,” I said.

“To tell the truth I was glad to get away for a bit. I can’t take the atmosphere in that house. Suspicion and innuendo and snapping at each other. What’s more, they’re already arguing over where poor Brian’s to be buried. Joseph wants him to have a grand funeral with all the trappings in New York. He says Brian would have wanted it, being a public figure and all. But Irene thinks he’d want to be buried here, beside his beloved granddaughter. She says he loved this place and he was happy here for the first time in his life.”