Clementine was kneeling at the foot of her bed. The dismal glow of Grey light was reflecting into her bedroom window. It was early dawn, just before five.
The thick eiderdown of her bed, with its purple flowered pattern, was neatly spread out. The soft crimson carpet lay soft beneath her knobby knees as she held the rosary in her hand; her old fingers clutching each bead. She had been praying for several hours, her legs were beginning to throb, but she paid no mind to them. Clementine was praying for the soul of the son she lost. Her heart mournful.
The child that she once bore. A little boy whom she had once mothered, protected, and reared into the world.
He was gone.
Clementine by nature was a very strong willed woman. Her character, though feminine and charismatic, was often fierce when challenged. But within reason.
She had pale-blond hair, the shade of sand or wheat. It was always neatly braided, and often wore it in luxurious twists or buns. Beneath her aristocratic beauty, though aged through the years; still retained remnants of a fine face with sensitive features. Clementine had a delicate nose, and high cheekbones that defined the specific character of her personage. Yet beneath her piercing blue eyes, there was a depth of quality about her that was known only to few. Though she was blessed with wisdom, she had a tendency to be rather domineering. But never without grace and poise. Though in her youth, Clementine was one to throw a fit if she deemed necessary. But nowadays, she did it only on special occasions.
Esme's Grandmother had a very distinct way of speaking, very precise and direct to point. She was honest and despised frivolity. But she also possessed a gentle manner that emerged when a person least expected it.
She had a way with expressing her distaste when she was not pleased.
Her words could curl one's hair with sarcasm, but she had a very special way of doing it.
For a person to survive in the world, one had to be tenacious of life; with a hunger and drive to match it. And that she was. She lost her husband when her son was only a mere infant, and was left alone to rear him herself. She had to be both roles of the parents. (That included the role of being a father.) Clementine trusted no one, and though a prominent business woman; capable of generating her own monetary needs, she preferred to do things herself. She did not rely on others for what she can do twice as fast and for half the time it took to do it.
She had a scarce amount of friends, and even fewer ones who are close to her. Others mistook her for an insensitive old windbag. But in reality, within the confines of privacy, her emotions ran deep. Sometimes too deep for her to bear. That insufferable act of repressing her emotions as tight as a corset has been her second nature through the years. It has been her anchor in the midst of crisis.
And now, she was faced again with uncertainty. The child who was now living in her house had no one else in the world but her. Not only was the child helpless, but her way of life will always be questioned. For she will always need special care and attention. And how was Clementine to achieve such a feat, with a woman of her age? She can take care of her granddaughter just as well. But...
Life was so short, and her years are coming faster now. Who will take care of Esme when death would soon knock on her door?
She had no answer. She cannot yet look into the unseen future if she herself is clouded with doubt and confusion.
She stood up from the floor, finishing her prayers. She was still in her dressing gown. The household would still be asleep, it was far too early for anyone to be awake. She returned her rosary beads to the altar she kept beside her bed. She tightened the sash around her waist and proceeded towards the door. The entire house was silent. Not even the mice could be heard. She closed the door behind her, and walked deftly to the room beside hers.
She was not sure whether or not her granddaughter was still asleep or awake. After all, it was still only half past four.
She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
She was surprised to find Esme sitting quietly on the bed. Her hair in curls, the sheets lightly disheveled. She was still wearing her little black dress, her back was facing the door.
Clementine did not know whether to call out to her, or to approach her first.
And so she went with her instinct. She half closed the door, and walked across the room. It was rather ironic to think, that this room once belonged to Esme's father as a child.
She knelt at Esme's bedside.
Now Clementine was able to look at her grandchild more clearly. She was so pale, so fragile. Esme looked so small, her eyes withdrawn.
"Esme...Esme, do you know who I am?" Clementine said gently, brushing a hair away from her eyes.
Esme blinked slowly, and nodded.
Clementine's heart broke into several pieces. Not only for her son who died, but for this child who was left behind.
Her eyes were brimming with tears, but there was no trace of the emotion she felt so greatly inside when she spoke.
"You have such lovely hair, my darling. Wouldn't it be much nicer if we combed it and put little ribbons on it? Would you like that Esme?"
Esme merely nodded.
Clementine stood up, and took a brush from the vanity mirror near the bed.
A tear was threatening to roll on her cheek, she wiped it away the moment it did.
She sat on the bed next to Esme, and started to gently brush through the thick curls.
"You know," Clementine said, untangling several pieces of hair, "Your father used to have the exact same curly hair as you. I never could seem to properly comb his curls, they had a life of their own."
Esme said nothing.
"There," Spoke Clementine once more, the final piece of hair loosened. "That looks much better."
She looked at Esme's young face. It was unfair. So unfair for a child to be so sad, so sullen, as if life had gone out from her, before it could begin.
"Darling, won't you please speak to me? Grandmother will listen." She said softly.
"Esme?"
Clementine touched the child's cheek. It was burning hot.
"Oh dear lord..." Clementine exclaimed, "Come here darling," She picked up the child in her arms. Her whole body was extremely hot. She was so thin.
"Esme, we've got to change you out of your clothes alright?"
There was that same blank expression on her face, as if she were in a trance.
She laid Esme on the bed, and carefully removed her dress.
"What in heaven's name is this..." She gasped. There were red patches on the child's chest and stomach.
She quickly threw the dress on the floor, and opened one of the drawers. Esme's clothes had already been seen to, the night before.
She took a night gown at random from one of the drawers. "Here, sweetheart. We've got to put this on you."
She dressed Esme as fast as she could.
She tucked the covers around her, "Stay here, grandmother will return. I'll bring you some delicious food alright?"
She kissed Esme on the forehead before exiting out of the room.
Clementine needed to awaken the rest of the household, the child was in dire need of a Physician.
She went back to her room to change. As she took off several pieces of clothing, she feared the worst.
Scarlet Fever.
A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for waiting, I know its been eleven days since I last updated. Please forgive me. XD I hope you guys enjoyed this one, an update won't be too far off. Keep em' reviews coming. ;) You know how much I adore you all.
God Bless!
Chapter 6?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOoooooo. ;D
