Chapter Fifty-Eight
The room was dark. Ruth hated the dark. Always had. She found darkness and shadow to be bad omens. She found no joy in anything but light. Sunshine and lamps and candles, those were her comforts. But the room had to be dark to allow Dad to stay calm and rested. Every time Ruth tried to turn on the lights, he would wince, and she would feel horrible about adding to his discomfort in any way.
She had spent almost two full weeks sitting at his bedside. She reviewed papers from the Legislature and took phone calls from his bedroom with a hushed voice and keeping out of the way of the doctors and nurses tending to him.
He was awake for a little while each day, and they'd been able to talk a little bit. It was hard for him to speak, and he tired so easily. The one good thing, if there were anything good about this situation, was that Dad was tired and in pain but at least had no cognitive problems. He knew what was going on and could follow everything Ruth was saying. He provided advice and assistance with the duties she was taking on for him.
It did not escape either of them that this was it. That Ruth was going to sit in this dim room until her father died and she would come out as queen. He would not recover. They'd spent the last year preparing for this, ensuring that Ruth knew what to do when the crown landed on her head. It was a matter of days now, at best.
Ruth had long since mourned the life she may have had. She had married Harry and hoped to live a quiet life by his side with his children and building their life together. None of it had gone as anticipated. Never again would they be able to do anything or go anywhere as just Harry and Ruth. She would always be Princess Louisa. Well, soon to be Queen Louisa.
The name sounded strange even in her own mind. She knew that if she spoke those words, they would taste bitter in her mouth. Queen Louisa was a person that Ruth did not know. More than that, Queen Louisa had to be a person that Ruth was not sure she could become.
That was the heart of it, really. There was no choice in the matter for Ruth, but she would have to become queen and figure out how to carry the burden and lead her country and her people, and she was absolutely scared to death. She could hardly give a single speech without getting tongue tied. She did not like meetings with the nobles or the Members of the Legislature, she was not comfortable being the center of attention and being the final word on things. Ruth had loved being an analyst because it allowed her to work on projects by herself and consult with others and deliver analysis to those in charge without having to make the decisions herself. She could be a brilliant right hand to someone in charge, she knew. She had worked so well with Harry in Foreign Intelligence all that time, and she had served very well assisting her father this last year. Sometimes she'd even enjoyed the royal duties, but that was when she had him to rely on, when she was just helping and not in charge of anything herself. That would not be the case very soon. She would have to be the end all of everything. The power and responsibility and attention that came with it did not appeal to her in the least. And despite the fact that both Dad and Harry had told her she'd be a marvelous queen, Ruth did not believe that she really had it in her. She could not bear to let down her father's memory or her family's expectations or her people's trust. Being queen was a tall order. And Ruth genuinely did not think she could do it. She would fail, and she would bring everything crashing down with her.
"Ruth?"
She looked up when she heard Dad softly call her name. He began coughing, and Ruth hurried from her seat under the lamp in the corner to his bedside. "I'm here, Dad," she said, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed and taking his hand when he shakily reached for her.
"I want…I want to talk to you."
Ruth smiled softly. "Of course. I like talking to you. You know that."
His breathing shuddered as he tried to chuckle. "Good," he whispered. "I like talking to you, too. I want to make sure you know how much. How much I've loved being your father. I couldn't have loved a daughter more. Never could have asked for a more perfect girl to call mine."
The words were beautiful and kind and loving, and while Dad was not shy about his affections, this was quite different. Ruth understood immediately what he was doing.
"You used to frighten me as a child, you were so quiet and so smart. You were always watching and learning, and you understood so much more than anyone ever expected. You're always like that, Ruth. Unexpected. People underestimate you. Even me. Because your talents are endless," he went on.
"Oh I don't know about that," she countered, blinking back the tears stinging her eyes. "I've got my faults like anyone. I'm shy and quiet, like you said. And I'm not very organized or graceful or elegant."
Dad smiled. "As I said. Unexpected. You're shy and quiet, but you aren't afraid to stand up and do what needs to be done. You're not what anyone expected in a princess, and that is the very best part. Because you are not clamoring for the spotlight and the power, you're the best person to have it."
Ruth tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Dad, I'm scared."
"I know," he replied. "I was too, when Edmund died. I never wanted this. I didn't know what to do. But I found a way through. I did what needed to be done even though I was scared. And you will too, won't you?"
"Of course."
"There you are. That's all you can do. All you can do is wake up each day and know that there are things you need to do and decisions you need to make. It has to be you. And because it has to be you, you'll rise to the occasion."
"But what if I can't?" she whispered.
His weak, shaky hand gave hers a squeeze. "You will. Because you must. But you must also remember that you won't be alone. The staff know what they're doing, and they'll help you. And you have Harry. I daresay he'll make sure you remember each and every day how wonderful you are. And before you know it, your girls will be ready to be princesses. Emilia will be there with you every step of the way as you lead her towards her destiny, just as I did with you these last few years."
"Dad, she's so little," Ruth lamented. Her voice cracked to be reminded of her sweet baby daughter on whose shoulders this weight would fall next.
"She'll grow. She'll grow and learn just as you did. She has the luxury of time and a mother who can help her better than your father was able to help you."
"You've been wonderful," she insisted.
"I've done the best I could. But I know your mother and grandmother would have been a greater help to you if they had been able to."
At that, he began coughing again. Ruth let go of his hand to quickly pour him some water and bring him the glass and a handkerchief. He spilled a bit as he tried to drink. She wiped away the wetness as best she could as he settled back down. His breathing was growing more and more ragged.
"I'm so sorry, Ruth," he said in a hoarse voice.
She shook her head and wiped the leaking corners of her eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You have been the best…" A sob escaped her, and she took a moment to compose herself again. "You have been the best father and the best grandfather and the best teacher and the best king. I have been so lucky," she told him.
"I love you so much, dear. I wish I could give you more time. I wish…I wish I didn't have to leave you."
Ruth could hardly hear his voice now. She leaned in close, not even caring anymore that she was openly crying. She'd never had to pretend to be strong and stoic in front of him.
His chest barely moved with his breaths now, and his heartbeat beneath Ruth's hand was very slow. In his last breath, he whispered, "Long live the queen."
With a deep sob, Ruth fell atop his chest and hugged her father close. She cried and pressed her face against him and found herself glad for the dimness of the room. The darkness fell over her in a way she had never before felt. Somewhere deep inside her, Ruth knew that darkness would be there to stay.
It only took a few minutes for her to stop crying and regain her breathing. When she had sufficiently calmed, Queen Louisa stood up to fetch the doctor. There were things to be done, and she would do them.