When Elisabeth Carson dies, she does so peacefully, asleep, and in the cottage she has lived in for nearly sixty years.
She dies in a summer's night that bears a beautiful summer's day, a day where the cherries on the tree in the far end of the garden are ready to be picked, a day for lemonade and a jaunt to the stream, for family and laughter.
They find her with her hand outstretched, her palm opened. They don't doubt he came for her.
When they clear the house, a painful yet needed task, and William looks through the volumes in the shelves he finds a note, written in the neat handwriting of his father.
Tomorrow I'll be saying yes. Yes to you, and the beauty and kindness that is combined in you. Yes to the future you agreed to spend with me, a fact I shall remain grateful for forever. Yes to the children we are going to have and to the home we will build. I will say yes to the love that connects us and makes us better people. You bring out the good in me, my dearest, and I thank you for that.
Tomorrow will be the start of something new, something wonderful. I know it will be. And I can hardly wait for it. Until then, sleep tight, my love, and rest assured that I will love you, through happiness and hardship and whatever may happen.
I love you so much. C.
When Sophie comes in, he hands the note to her with a sincere smile. "They've really done each other justice, haven't they?"
She reads, and when she has, she looks at her elder brother with sparkling eyes. He takes her hand and she holds on determinedly. "Of course they have."
They keep Dickens. And the Scottish poetry volumes. In the kitchen, the kettle is boiling for one last time.
Yes. Of course.
And here we are. Writing this meant a lot to me, and I'm ever so glad about your encouragement and kindness. Thank you. :)