Chapter 34: The Time Spent

A year goes by so quickly. It can be Christmas one day and in the wink of an eye it is Christmas once again. Time seems to move faster when our eyes our closed, when we focus on the external factors of life. Work, University, social events and such. There are lags, delays where one sits and wonders why time cannot move faster for us. Because we know that something great will happen soon, very soon in fact. Impatience is the downfall of man.

Summer had passed, the heat had died down, the leaves began to change color and fall to the ground, and squirrels began hoarding their nuts for the fast approaching icy showers. Families began to save more money in order to pay for upcoming festivities, warm clothes and blankets, food to keep the bellies satisfied. One such family was the Sowerbys; Richard Sowerby, together with his son-in-law Brent Cooper, had begun a small tailoring business. Find extra help was easy with his wife and capable children who would come by after schooling everyday. Not only that but Miss Mary Lennox would be seen in the shop as well, giving a helping hand with the sewing and marketing. Within three months the business was the talk of the town. The Sowerby clan had always been respected in the hamlet; more so now with a successful business.

On the other side of the globe, their son, Dickon Sowerby, worked day in and day out. On most nights he would lay awake reading and re-reading letters from his home. Each day was spent caring, feeding and nurturing the prized horses of Mister Smith. One weekend he was able to accompany some of the other workers to a film being shown in the nearby town, they spent the rest of the day there. It was not a lonely existence, of that he was happy about. And yet it was not as fulfilling as he thought it would be. Each month he would receive his pay, he would then set aside a minuscule amount for his allowance. The bigger portion went into the small chest with Mary's initials.

Winter was difficult for both parties. For Dickon it was the thought of how the unpredictable English weather would affect his loved ones, for it wasn't nearly as freezing in Kentucky. It was also the thought of how far away he would become holiday time. But then on further reflection it was better that he was in a safe location with friends wherever he turned, without a gun in his hand, freezing in French snow and enemies just ahead of him. He was safe. That was his comfort.

For the Sowerbys in Yorkshire winter seemed colder than usual. They weren't sure why but each morning the family would wake with a feeling of terrible premonition. Mary Lennox invited the family to stay in Misselthwaite with her, Lord Craven, and her cousin Colin, who was visiting from University. It was a happy and full manor that year, with the Sowerby, Craven and Cooper clan celebrating together.

Mister Richard Sowerby's terrible cough came during winter but was only noticed during springtime. What also came during springtime was a new shop in town; a tailor shop opened by an upscale Swiss family. The Sowerby-Cooper enterprise began to grow smaller and smaller. By summer they were lucky to have even two clients. As each month passed Mister Sowerby's health grew worse as did Martha's. Her shuffling between chores at the manor, helping in the shop, and tending to her children had caused her health to steadily decline.

By the end of autumn, the shop had gone bankrupt and closed; Martha was confined to the bed and Mister Richard Sowerby said his final good-byes to all his children, save one, and was buried behind the church under a simple wooden cross.

His son living abroad heard of the news two and a half months later, due to the delay of the ships sailing between England and America. The letter was frayed at the edges, the ink had run, and the letters were penned with a slow and careful hand. His mother had taken the time to write him; it was one of the few letters she herself had written. It had arrived to him a week before he had time to read it. As many workers left the ranch in hopes for a brighter future, including the young Nell Roberts, Dickon needed to work twice as hard. He was awake before the rooster and went to bed after midnight everyday. With his mother's letter was one from Colin and Mary. Out of habit he read his fiancée's first, it was also on top of his pile; which meant it had arrived that morning. It had been a hard day, and he had just laid down the axe he had been handling. He sat on a stump facing the lowering sun as he read her story of how it happened. His father's death, his sister confined to the bed, her children and his siblings starving and cold, shoved into the little shack he had grown up in; then Martha's husband, Brent, had taken several jobs to support the family, as had his mother and the older siblings, and how the once blooming business was closed. He couldn't help the tears, the pain. When his family needed him the most was when he was far away from them. Dickon sat on the stump until Paul came looking for him. The next day he wrote her back using very few words: Please help them.

It was the summer of 1923 when Dickon returned to England. He sat nervously on the train, nervously entering the unknown; this was because he hadn't heard from any of his loved ones since the day he had read of his father's death.

Hey, readers! :)

Sorry for the long long break:((.

I am very very glad to inform you guys that this will be the second to the last chapter:) Almost done. Thank you so very much for supporting me through this!!!!

'till the last chapter....:)

_cole_