How Sweet It Is (13 page)

She saw her mother descending the steps with
the help of a neighbor. Fending off Brad’s arms, she rushed to her
mother and embraced her.

Clarice raised her tear-stained face. “He
died in his sleep. Oh, my Leone!”

Delphine saw the ambulance
pull away from the curb.
Papa!
She started after it.

Brad restrained her. She struggled weakly
against him, gasping at the pain mushrooming in her heart.

****

At the hospital where they gathered for the
official pronouncement, Delphine leaned against a doorframe and
stared down a long hallway. Somewhere down there was her father,
lost to her forever. Her eyes felt hard and gritty, her prayers
stifled and vague.

Brad walked up to her and put a hand on her
shoulder. She accepted his embrace and closed her eyes,
experiencing the familiar feeling of warmth and safety she’d tried
to resist.

Resting her cheek against his chest, she
could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and further off, the
quiet weeping of her mother in the waiting room behind her. The
emotional turmoil at the shop seemed only a vague memory compared
to the jarring pain of the moment.

After a time, a doctor came into the room and
approached Clarice. He sat down next to her. “It appears your
husband died of a heart attack while sleeping. I don’t believe he
experienced any pain.”

Delphine burrowed her face into Brad’s
shoulder, hating the words the doctor spoke, while somehow thankful
her father’s death had been at least peaceful. She felt numb and
hysterical by turns, terrified if she started crying again, she’d
never stop.

After a few more minutes of low conversation
about contacting a funeral home, the doctor left. Delphine raised
her head and eased out of Brad’s arms. When she looked toward her
mother, she saw his parents arrive. He led her over to where her
mother sat.

Clarice clutched at Delphine, speaking rapid
French in her distress. Someone pushed a tissue into Delphine’s
hands. She passed it to her mother, who dabbed at the unending
stream of tears running down her face.

They all left the hospital. Brad drove
Delphine and her mother to his house, followed by his parents. The
movement and activity as everyone filed into the Larsen’s living
room streamed by her in a detached blur.

Someone settled her into a chair. Around her
voices rose and fell, but Delphine couldn’t seem to distinguish
between them. In her grief, she felt a great burden of guilt
hanging over her head. She hadn’t been strict enough with her
father’s diet. She hadn’t encouraged him to exercise enough.

She hadn’t been there when he died.

I failed my parents. My
ambition brought me here. If I’d been content at the bakery without
foolish dreams of my own business, maybe my father would be alive
now
.

Delphine suddenly remembered getting fired
earlier that day and bit back a sob. Marshalling the last of her
reserves, she pulled herself out of the downward spiral of her
thoughts and focused on her mother.

Clarice was speaking about her grief, of her
wonderful husband and their memories together. Delphine could only
think of the consequences she was to bear, of the decisions she
would have to make.

And Brad—she couldn’t look him in the
eye.

Delphine pressed her hands
in her lap and desperately tried to fortify her resolve for the
days ahead. She must be self-reliant. The more people who helped
her, the more people she owed, and she just didn’t have the power
to pay them all back.
How can I go on,
Lord? It’s too much!

Delphine stood quickly,
taking a deep breath to ready herself for what lay ahead.
I must get Maman home. I must get the chocolaterie
open ahead of schedule
.

She heard an odd buzzing hum and wondered if
an alarm was sounding somewhere in the house. She was vaguely aware
of Brad standing to one side, and his mother talking very fast, but
neither appeared to notice the noise.

In the next instant, the floor rushed up to
meet her.

Ten

Delphine slowly opened her eyes, which felt
puffy and dried out. While trying to place her surroundings,
something horrible hovered at the back of her mind.

Then she remembered.

“Oh,
Papa!
” Delphine pressed her face into
the pillow and wept. When she felt she’d cried every drop of
moisture out of her body, she sent up listless prayers for her
mother and herself, too weak to care if God even heard
her.

After some time, she realized she wasn’t in
her own bedroom. With half-hearted interest, she let her tired gaze
travel around the room. Pale yellow walls, white painted
wainscoting, and botanical prints decorated the room. In the
corner, next to a wooden bookcase filled with books, was a white
wicker chair, where an old fuzzy, stuffed bunny slumped to one
side.

A very feminine room.

The room must belong to one of Brad’s
sisters. Delphine had a hazy memory of his parents insisting they
stay at their home for the night. She seemed only to remember
things in flashes, as if by the strobe-like glare of the ambulance
lights.

Lying back against the pillow, she wondered
what time it was. On the other side of the bed she saw a little
white enameled clock sitting on a nightstand. Twelve-thirty in the
afternoon.

Delphine gasped.
How could I have slept so long? There’s so much I
need to do!

She dragged her body out of bed, her
movements slow and stiff. On a chair near the door, she noticed a
stack of clothes from home under her purse. How had they arrived
there? Mrs. Larsen was probably responsible. Delphine rifled
through the folded shirts and pants.

With shaking hands, Delphine chose a
lettuce-edged pink cotton shirt and a pair of blue jeans and the
make-up bag from her purse. The bedroom had a small bathroom
attached. She took her time in a long, hot shower, wishing her
grief and worries would slip down the drain like the water.

After she dressed, Delphine French-braided
her damp hair, wondering how she’d received the purple bruise on
her forehead. She applied a token amount of make-up, masking the
bruise with a little foundation. She didn’t care much what she
looked like, but at the same time wanted to make an effort to be
presentable to people who so obviously had been at pains to make
her comfortable.

When she was all set, she hesitated, unsure
if she was ready to face everyone just yet. Her gaze was drawn to
the stuffed bunny. Delphine walked over and looked at it more
closely. The long-pile fur was worn in spots and the eyes were
knots of frayed thread where button eyes must’ve been. It wore a
faded calico dress with antique lace.

Unable to stop herself, she picked it up and
buried her face in the soft toy. She closed her eyes and inhaled
the faint hint of fabric softener. Somewhere downstairs, the sound
of a door closing made her jump. She quickly put the bunny back and
took a shuddering breath.

Knowing she couldn’t avoid the inevitable,
Delphine opened the bedroom door and peered down the sage-green
carpet runner lining the wood-floored length of the hall. One end
of the hall opened up toward a landing. She followed that direction
and came to the top of the staircase. She heard muted voices as she
descended the stairs.

At the bottom step, Delphine paused. She saw
Brad leaning against the wall with his back to her, at the entrance
of the living room. As if sensing her presence, he twisted
around.

Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw
his expression. Brad no longer wore his perpetual grin. New lines
etched the edges of his mouth. His eyes were a deep, solemn blue.
He walked up to her and took her in his arms, murmuring words of
solace.

Delphine savored his nearness, his solid
strength.

Brad stepped back and looked at her. “I was
so worried about you, Delphine. How’s your head?”

She reached up to touch the tender spot on
her forehead. “I…I noticed a bruise this morning.”

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head.

“Last night you fainted, hitting your head
on the table. I felt terrible. I should’ve caught you, but I wasn’t
fast enough.” He touched her shoulder. “I guess I’m not much good
in an emergency.”

Delphine lowered her hand. “I’m the one who
should be apologizing.”

Before Brad answered, his mother came into
the room and hugged her. “Delphine,” she said in a soothing tone,
“please join us for lunch.”

She pushed her hands into her pockets. “Oh,
thank you, but I couldn’t possibly eat.”

“Nonsense,” she said, putting a hand on her
arm and drawing her into the dining room. “Your mother is in the
kitchen waiting for you.”

As Mrs. Larsen led her away, Delphine shot a
glance over her shoulder at Brad. He gave her a worried look and
followed.

Clarice stood at their entrance. She kissed
Delphine’s cheeks before returning to her seat. She looked pale,
but composed. Giving her mother a wan smile, Delphine joined her at
the table. Brad sat next to her while Mrs. Larsen bustled about the
kitchen.

She sensed Brad’s quiet gaze upon her, yet
she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Somewhere in the
knowledge that her father was gone lurked a residual shame for her
ridiculous behavior at the shop.

Mrs. Larsen soon served a steaming quiche
from the oven, along with fresh fruits and a melon salad. Brad said
a prayer for the food and for the D’Arleux family’s comfort. At his
words, Delphine felt a fresh lump rising in her throat. She stared
down at her plate as black waves of sadness washed over her.

Brad looked over at Delphine before glancing
at his mother. She sent him back a look confirming her own worries
about her. He stifled a sigh and silently prayed for wisdom. How
could he help? He’d never seen Delphine so stricken, so bowed down
before. Having never lost anyone close to him, Brad felt unsure how
to comfort her.

Another peek at her rigid form made him
wonder if she’d accept any real comfort from him. Her confession of
love, followed by words they’d exchanged at the shop the night
before troubled him.

He reached under the table and took her hand.
Her fingers felt like ice. Delphine didn’t look up at his touch but
weakly squeezed his hand in response.

Brad held onto her tightly, hoping to impart
some warmth, hoping that even though she seemed a million miles
away, this tenuous link that connected them might be strong enough
to withstand the days ahead.

After mostly pushing onion quiche around on
her plate, Delphine tried very hard to listen to what her mother
said about funeral arrangements. She answered in monosyllables,
just wanting the whole ordeal over with. Her father was gone.
Nothing could change that.

For once, Delphine just couldn’t be strong.
She was thankful when her mother and Mrs. Larsen appeared to be
handling all the details. She didn’t want to think about the here
and now, much less the future. Where she’d find the money for the
arrangements she had no clue.

She experienced a stab of guilt at the
thought. Now wasn’t the time to worry over finances. Delphine could
only hope that somehow God would provide. She held onto Brad’s
hand, so thankful for his touch.

After breakfast, her mother and Mrs. Larsen
left the house to handle the funeral preparations. Delphine begged
off, only wanting respite in sleep. While Brad cleared the table,
she slipped up to the yellow bedroom.

Avoiding looking at the stuffed bunny, she
stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. Images from the night
before whirled around in her brain, renewing the sharp edges of
grief. Delphine rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, as
tears dripped into her ears.

Sleep eluded her. She got up and paced around
the room, rubbing her arms to banish the cold, despite the
balminess of the day. Finally, she admitted to herself she wanted
to be with Brad. She made her way down the stairs, only to find the
house empty.

Stifling a stab of disappointment, Delphine
wandered through the main floor of the house, pausing to look at
framed family photos on the wall. Seeing Brad as a small child
squeezed her heart. It reminded her of his sweet, endearing
qualities, along with the fact that she’d treated him badly at the
shop.

As she turned to make her way upstairs,
Delphine caught sight of him walking in the backyard. She made a
move to join him, then feeling unsure of herself, decided against
it. She trudged up the stairs, grabbed the rabbit and went to sleep
with it in her arms.

****

Dark shadows filled the room when Delphine
next awoke. She propped herself up one elbow and rubbed her eyes.
Switching on the bedside lamp, she saw the time was after midnight,
making her wonder if her lunch had been spiked with a sleep aid.
She couldn’t remember ever sleeping so much in her life.

Her dreams had been filled with images of her
father. Memories, good, and painful, shimmered in her mind and
renewed the ache in her heart. Fresh tears filled her eyes. She
sent up a silent prayer for her mother. Delphine realized she’d
been neglecting her. Now it was too late at night to be of any use.
Everyone had probably gone to bed.

Tossing back the light blanket, she got up
from the bed and stretched a little. She picked up the bunny,
intending to return it to the chair, and noticed the little dress
was wet from her tears. Embarrassment at holding it while she slept
made her quickly replace it.

Her stomach rumbled. Delphine felt impatient
with her physical needs. How could her body be so demanding in
light of such a crisis? Hunger seemed so mundane. But that hunger
drove her to head downstairs.