“Of course,” she replied. “I’m hoping you might be able to give us some ideas on how to proceed.”
The banker nodded. “Do you have any papers signed by Randolph renouncing his claim to the business?”
“Yes, they’re in our private safe in the office.”
“Is there anyone back there who has the combination to that safe and who you would trust to turn those papers over to your lawyer?”
“Arthur Saxe has worked for my father for twenty years, but he doesn’t have access to the safe and—”
“No,” Ruth said decisively. “I don’t trust him, not with something this important. I must go back—”
“Put the thought out of your mind, my dear,” Miriam rejoined. She turned to her husband. “What other questions do you have?”
“Were there any witnesses to your father’s confrontation with Randolph?”
“My mother and I . . . overheard their conversation.”
“But you weren’t in the same room,” Buck pointed out, remembering Sarah saying they were listening at the door.
“It’s my house,” Ruth snapped. “I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“Momma,” Sarah interceded, “I don’t think Dr. Thomson’s implying anything.”
Ruth made a harrumph sound, while Miriam poured a glass of water and handed it to her.
“No offense intended, ma’am,” Buck said evenly.
“May I continue?” Gus asked.
Ruth nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m just so—”
“Legally you and Randolph were still married at the time of his death,” Gus posited. “Is that correct?”
Sarah nodded.
“Are there any other heirs to your father’s estate besides you and your mother?”
“Aaron, of course,” Ruth said brightly.
“Momma—”
“He’ll come back. I’m convinced in my heart he will.”
“Ruth, dear,” Miriam said softly. “I know how hard it is, believe me. It took me a long time to accept that Bert and Harry were gone, that they will never be returning home.” Her eyes filled with tears. Gus moved up beside her chair and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“You said he was lost in the war, is that correct?” Gus pressed.
Sarah bit her lip, then stiffened her spine. “My brother was a blockade runner out of Charleston. He’d been sailing since he was a little boy and made dozens of trips safely, but we haven’t heard from him in over a year. The papers listed him as MPD, missing, presumed dead.”
“I don’t believe it,” Ruth interposed. “The war’s over, and he’ll be coming home.”
“Yes, Momma. But let’s not discuss it now. The question is what we’re going to do about Randolph’s father. You stay here with the Graysons, and I’ll return to Charleston.”
“Not by yourself,” Buck said firmly. “I’m going with you. I’ll check with the stagecoach company and see if they have anything available. How soon will you be ready to leave? Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? Leave tomorrow?” Miriam exclaimed. “That’s impossible. They must sit Shiva, after which they need to rest. I won’t hear of her leaving tomorrow. It’s out of the question.”
Buck shifted his attention from Gus’s wife to Mrs. Greenwald and finally to Sarah. “Excuse me. Sit what?”
Miriam patted Ruth’s hand sympathetically while explaining to Buck, “It’s our religious practice for the next of kin to remain in isolation for a period immediately following funeral services. All mirrors are turned to the wall or covered and meals eaten in seclusion. Ruth and her daughter will observe this custom in our home.”
“You mean she can’t travel? For how long?”
“Shiva means seven days. Actually eight, since the Sabbath doesn’t count.”
“That’s too long, Miriam,” Sarah protested. “Since we’re traveling I can satisfy the obligation by sitting Shiva for three days.”
“Is that when you’ll be ready?” Buck asked. “In three days?”
“I’m ready to leave immediately if that’s what’s needed. Right now saving the family business and our honor is more important than a ritual that can be performed later.”
Buck nodded. The woman had endured the violent death of her father, yet was still willing and eager to take on the world. One hell of a woman.
“I’ll check with the stagecoach company and find out what their schedule is and get back to you.”
“No, no,” Ruth objected. “It’s much too dangerous.”
“I’ll be traveling with your daughter to Charleston to insure her safety,” Buck informed her.
“For propriety’s sake,” Miriam cut in, “I’ll send Janey as your servant and companion.”
A few minutes later, Gus escorted Buck to the front door and put his hand on his young friend’s shoulder. “Well, doctor, as usual the women have everything well in hand. All we have to do now is exactly as we’re told.”
Buck grinned. “I’m eminently familiar with taking orders.”
#
Buck went directly from the Grayson house to his room at the Sand Hills Hotel. Today he’d participated in a strangely soothing ritual that reminded him that there can be death with dignity. So different from what he’d witnessed in the war; where torn-up bodies were carelessly discarded more often in pits than in dignified graves; where there were no markers to remind the world that here feeling men had yielded up their lives, limbs and dreams; where few words were spoken to commemorate their sacrifices, many of which the world had already forgotten.
He removed the two unread letters the banker had earlier given him from the inner pocket of his ill-fitting frock coat, and tossed the garment itself onto the back of a chair in the sitting room. Once again he studied the two envelopes and was surprised to see his hands were trembling. What last words had Raleigh had for him and Clay? What premonition might he have had of his own demise?
Sitting on the edge of the settee in the corner between the windows, he opened the envelope with his name on it.
To my elder son Buck:
One of the greatest joys of my life was the day you were born. The two greatest sorrows were the loss of your mother and that you and I parted with such rancor. But that does not dampen the pride I have for you and your accomplishments. Even as a boy you were more like your mother than me, with your compassion for wounded animals and your kindhearted care of our slaves. She and you touched the tender part of my soul. I need not remind you how profound was her loss on my nature. Perhaps it explains the inexcusable behavior I now so deeply lament.
I pray you will forgive me and in time recollect me with some fondness for those moments of happiness we shared. May you return safely from this terrible war, establish your medical practice here in South Carolina, and enjoy a long and successful life.
Your loving father,
Raleigh
Buck let the single piece of paper slip from his fingers and fall to the floor, overwhelmed with unexpected emotion. Gus had been correct. For all his shortcomings, his father had loved him. How much Buck himself regretted the hostility of their last meeting. If the war hadn’t intervened, would they have been reconciled? They’d always have differences, but Buck liked to think they’d eventually have found common ground.
He picked up the paper, refolded it and tucked it back into its envelope. Several minutes went by before he broke the seal on the other one. He felt unclean, as he opened this letter, written on the same personalized stationery. To read the private correspondence between his late father and his dead brother seemed somehow a sacrilege, yet it would be irresponsible and doubly disrespectful of their memories to ignore it.