Epilogue Part 4 Love And Memories

Late summer 1804….

General Tavington shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looked over at his grandson, Jamie, sitting in the grass now holding the shepherd puppy. William smiled as he watched little Millie skip over to her brother and animatedly tell him about the bunny that had just hopped away from her.

Tavington knelt down and gathered the wildflowers that his granddaughter had dropped in the grass back into a bouquet. He clasped it and brought it to his nose, breathing in the fresh scent. He closed his eyes and smiled as he kept recalling the memory of Melanie's last pregnancy. The older children were surprised, but happy that their parents were pleased to be having another child. And as Melanie carried the child, it was a happy and welcome distraction to she and William, helping to keep their mind occupied with the impending baby and easing the grief over their beloved Josie's death.

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January 1799….

"It's a boy, General," Mrs. Dexter called from the door.

"A boy?" Tavington echoed from the sitting alcove on the second floor of his house where he'd spent the time many times before waiting for all his children to be born. "I have another son!"

The man jumped to his feet, hardly able to breathe at the excitement and relief of this last child's birth. His son-in-law, Jimmy Wilkins, whose wife Mary Tavington Wilkins was helping to attend her own mother in delivery, stood to his feet as well, smiling at his happy and overwhelmed father-in-law.

"Congratulations sir!" he said, shaking the general's hand.

"Thank you, Jim."

Tavington anxiously ran to the bedchamber door, shoving his booted foot into the doorway so that the midwife couldn't close it. "How is my wife? When can I see her?"

"Sir she's had a rough labor and is tired and weak," she replied. "We'll call you in a few minutes when you may visit."

"My thanks." William turned back just in time to hear his son-in-law yelling down at his own father, James Wilkins, as he leaned over the banister.

"Father wants us to come downstairs to your office," Jimmy informed. "Seems he just arrived with one of our finest champagnes to open. He wishes to toast the family's newest arrival." Young Wilkins did indeed feel part of the family with his marriage to Mary, having been welcomed in warmly.

William didn't want to leave, but knew it might be awhile before he could see Melanie and hold the baby. He accepted the invitation to go downstairs and celebrate with a bottle of bubbly from the Wilkins' own winery.

Melanie Tavington had gone into labor the evening before. It had been among her longest, roughest, and most painful deliveries. William had spent the night at her bedside, rubbing her back and doing and saying anything to comfort her. When the midwife arrived earlier in the day and shooed the men out, the expectant father, not having been in the position for nine years, picked up his actions like old hat. He spent the hours alternately sitting and pacing the floor upstairs near the bedroom.

Tavington was able to relax a little with his neighbor and close friend James, and his daughter's young husband. Major Wilkins took the opportunity to tease his friend and ask how many more Tavington's they were to expect now. Jimmy joined in as well, saying that Mary had hoped to become with child soon, anxious to give her husband an heir.

After nearly an hour had passed, of which the men lost track of time, their impromptu celebration was shattered by Mary's frantic shouts. "Father! Father! Come quickly!"

The three men set their drinks down and walked out of the office and into the large gallery. They looked up at the second floor to see Mary leaning anxiously over the railing.

"You must come now, papa!"

With that, Tavington immediately began to worry and bolted up the stairway. The Wilkins men followed behind, not able to keep up with the anxious man.

Mary went back into the bedroom. Tavington reached the door just as the doctor was coming through it. The physician had been called to come help attend the delivery due to the woman's older age.

"General, a word, please," the Doctor said, barely able to hold the stronger Tavington back from entering the bedroom. By this time, James and Jimmy Wilkins had reached the second floor and stood within earshot of General Tavington and Dr. Cutler.

"General Tavington, your wife and the baby aren't doing well," he informed.

"What do you mean?" an alarmed William asked.

"Your son's pulse and breathing have weakened."

William closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. All he could think of was that Melanie could not go through the grief of losing another infant. She had taken the deaths of all of them before so hard. He needed to see her and comfort her.

"And your wife," the doctor continued. These words pulled William from his momentary concern of how to comfort his wife.

"She isn't doing well. This delivery has significantly weakened her body. Also, she has lost a large amount of blood. We haven't been able to get the hemorrhaging to stop. All we've been able to do is slow it."

William was confused. He wasn't sure he was hearing the doctor correctly or even understanding what the man told him.

"Is it childbed fever?" asked Tavington. "She will recover with a few days rest—"

"No, General," the doctor said, shaking his head. "She's lost too much blood and is too weak to recover. She doesn't have much longer."

"What?" , he exclaimed. With that, William stepped past the doctor and burst into the bedroom. "No! Melanie!"

He ran to the bed, kneeling at the side of it and taking his wife's hand. His own head spun at the sights around him. Regina and Mary were both crying; Bridget was holding the baby, massaging his back to urge him to keep breathing. The midwife was at the foot of the bed, reaching forward, with a hand on Melanie's swollen abdomen. And there was a pile of blood soaked linens and bed sheets piled near the bed.

Melanie's skin color was a pale white, her hair matted to her head with sweat, her eyes barely open. He felt the room starting to spin about him, overwhelmed by how everything had gotten out of control and how quickly it had happened. Tavington held his wife's hand even tighter as he grabbed a fist full of sheet to steady him, feeling as though he would fall to the floor.

William spoke to her. "Darling, we have a son. Have you seen him?" He could feel his throat starting constrict and his eyes filling with tears.

"Yes," Melanie said weakly, giving her husband's hand a feeble squeeze. "I want to name him Henry. And James, after Major Wilkins, for his middle name."

"Of course, darling," he said, trying to keep his voice strong, "Anything you wish."

Tavington leaned in closer to his wife. She weakly turned her head to look at him, hardly having the strength to hold her eyes open. Her eyes, wet and misty, barely focused on her husband's.

"Melanie, listen to me," he pleaded, "I need you. Our children need you. So you must fight, darling."

Mrs. Tavington forced a smile as a tear ran down her cheek. "I'm cold, Will," she whispered.

William pulled himself up from kneeling. He grabbed another blanket that lay on a nearby chair as he sat down on the bed near his ailing wife, his back to the headboard. The general pulled her weak body into his arms so that it was half in his lap, half on the bed. Tavington threw the blanket over her, tucking it in loosely around her as his arms tightened about her body.

Tavington moved his head downwards and kissed his wife's lips gently; lovingly. She smiled a bit more, pleased at feeling his mouth on hers again.

"My dear, do you remember when we first met 20 years ago?" he murmured. "When we found you here, you were so badly hurt. But you lived; you fought to stay alive. You can do that now."

Melanie said nothing as her eyes closed. She was struggling to breathe, to stay coherent. The woman did indeed remember the painful ordeal of living through several stab wounds. She also realized that she was 20 years younger then, and her body hadn't been through the ravages of a suicide attempt and several miscarriages on top of the stabbing.

Mrs. Tavington knew she was dying. She was too exhausted to be afraid. And while she thought that soon she would be reunited with her parents and siblings, her lost infants, and her beloved Josie, more tears flowed down her face at the pain of having to leave William and her children behind.

"I'm the luckiest of wives," Melanie murmured to her husband. "You've made me so happy."

"And you've given me a life of joy," he answered, his voice quivering.

William kissed her head, nuzzling his lips into her blonde waves. He finally broke, his own tears flowing freely over his cheeks. "Stay with me Melanie, please!"

"You're the love of my life, William," she wept feebly.

"Don't. Don't go, Melanie." William begged her through his own tears. He looked quickly about the room at his children and Bridget and the Wilkins family and how they all cried.

"I love you, William." With that, Mrs. Tavington's eyes closed. She no longer had the strength to hold them open.

"I love you so much, darling," he sobbed, holding her so tightly.

After another moment, he felt her body shudder a bit, then go limp. Tavington could no longer feel her hand weakly holding onto his; it just laid in his palm.

William sobbed aloud, burying his face in her blonde hair as he realized she was gone. This woman whom he'd shared his life with and loved so much, given him a second chance, given him children, was dead.

When the children saw that their mother had just died, Regina and Mary burst out and sobbed loudly. Will held his little brother Alex against him as they cried. Jim Wilkins held his wife, Bridget, sobbing as she remembered that she was the one who first took care of Melanie when she first evaded death some twenty years ago.

"Melanie, oh Melanie," Tavington whispered into her hair as he wept, holding her limp body to his, "What am I to do without you?"

William continued to hold onto his dead wife's body as the initial round of sobbing within the room began to quiet. As he did, their 15 year old daughter Regina, from where she stood, stared at her father holding her mother. As she did, her sorrow turned to an unexplainable rage. Upset that her mother was taken from her so abruptly, she felt she had to place blame somewhere.

Regina Tavington soon stalked around to the other side of the bed, where her father sat with her mother's body. Her eyes were narrowed, full of painful tears and hate, as she looked down in contempt at her father.

"This is your fault!" she exclaimed in an accusing voice.

"Regina!" a grieving Mary yelled. She was surprised to see her sibling and father's sister's namesake reacting the way she was.

"No! It is his fault!," she shot back. "If he wouldn't have made her pregnant! She had no business having a baby this late in life!"

"Regina, this is not anyone's fault," Bridget spoke up, knowing that her dead friend would not want the family at odds over her death. "It just happened. We don't know why

God—"

"God has nothing to do with it!," she screamed. "It was all father. I've heard what husbands can make their wives do!"

"Stop it!" young Will Tavington screamed, walking away from his brother Alexander.

General Tavington, consumed with grief, could scarcely register his daughter's accusations. He heard part of the words while the other words sounded as a harsh noise. William could only discern through his own heartbreak that his daughter was angry and it grieved him even more.

Finding the strength, William raised his tearstained face and reached out for his daughter, wanting to comfort her. "Regina, sweetheart—"

"No! You did this to her! You shouldn't have lain with her! You should have controlled yourself!" With that, Regina broke into tears again and ran from the room with her older brother Will in hot pursuit.

All William could do with everything happening around him was to continue sobbing onto his wife's cooling body. "Why? Why," he whispered, still wondering how his world got so out of control and could have changed so fast.

Outside the room, Will Tavington chased his sister down and caught up to her at the other end of the hallway. He grabbed her elbow and roughly put her back squarely against the wall.

"How dare you!" she yelled.

"No! How dare you accuse our father of such a thing!", he exclaimed. "This is NOT his fault!"

"Yes it is!" she argued.

"No it's not!," he countered, still keeping her pinned to the wall. "Husbands and wives have their own ways of soothing each other through dreadful times, and it is not up to us to question how mother and father sought comfort."

"He shouldn't have—"

"Stop this nonsense!," he scolded his sister. "You will go back in there immediately and apologize to our father. He doesn't need this heaped on his grief."

"No! I won't!" she shot back.

"Yes you will!" With that, Will forcefully took her arm and began to drag her back down the hallway toward their parent's bedchamber.

"You can't make me!"

"Regina, as long as father is in there incapacitated with grief, I am the head of this household," Will pointed out, still angry over her outburst to their father. "Now you will go back in there this instant."

"I won't!"

Suddenly, Will slapped her across the face hard. It knocked her back onto her heels and against the wall, as well as taking her breath away. Hot tears stung her eyes as she brought her hand up to soothe her stinging cheek.

Will Tavington had inherited the short temper and lack of patience from his father. And Regina's insolence in the face of her father's grief had pushed him over the edge.

"I can't believe you!" said Regina, stunned.

"Don't try me, Regina!," Will hissed through gritted teeth.

"You can't make me!," she continued on with her defiance. "I'll run away."

"No you won't! And if you should try, things will be worse on you—"

Regina's mouth dropped open at her brother's threat. "You wouldn't dare!"

Will let loose with another slap to his younger sister's face, this time harder. His eyes were narrowed at her as he growled, "There's your answer. Now get back in there and apologize to papa."

His sister, her palm on her cheek trying to cool it, began to cry as she turned to walk to the bedroom with Will hard behind her. She opened the door to find the room quiet, everyone lost in their own grief.

Regina walked around the bed to where her father sat in a chair, still holding his wife's hand. They tearfully embraced, and she apologized.

Shortly after that, Mary brought the weak baby Henry over to her father. Everyone else in the room had held the sickly infant, save for William.

"Papa, you should hold him," she said. Mary handed her infant brother over to her father as James Wilkins pulled a rocking chair up close to the bed.

William took the baby boy gently into his arms, cradling him there without saying anything. He let out a sigh as he sat down in the rocking chair, the same chair that he'd watched Melanie rock and nurse all over their children before.

"Just rock him, father," Mary coaxed quietly.

Tavington rocked the baby, looking quietly at the tiny thing. He noticed the dark hair on his head and caressed it with his large hand.

For the next hour, the room remained quiet as William Tavington held his youngest son and child. He wished that Melanie was alive to hold the child, yet thankful that she didn't have to live through another child's death. The baby whimpered weakly a couple of times, and opened his eyes equally as much to look at his father. The general quietly rocked the child.

Dr. Cutler monitored the situation closely, watching little Henry James Tavington in his father's arms. When he noticed that the infant hadn't cried or moved for a bit, he came to check on the baby.

After examining the baby quickly as his father still held him, the doctor put his hand on the general's shoulder. "I'm sorry, General Tavington. He's gone now."

William's eyes filled with tears again. He reverently laid the child down on the bed next to where his wife lay. Tavington then folded her arm around the child. Then he bent his tall frame downwards over the bed and smoothed Melanie's hair back.

He brushed a light kiss across her lips, then her cheek, and lastly her forehead. He shook his head as he closed his watery eyes. William whispered, "I'll always love you, Melanie."

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February 1799….

A tired Mary Tavington Wilkins left her two wheeled buggy and horse in the hands of a stable hand at her parents' home. She lifted her dress as she walked slowly up the steps and onto the portico, then passing through the doorway and into the house.

Diedre greeted her and took her hat. "Good morning, Mrs. Wilkins. How is married life?"

"Still blissful after these few months," Mary replied cordially. "Where's father?"

The servant looked toward the general's empty officer where she had just been in. The maid noted what looked like a lot of paperwork stacked upon her master's desk.

"He hasn't come down yet today," Diedre answered with a sigh.

"I'll go up and visit with him," Mary replied with a reassuring smile.

The seventeen year old Mrs. Wilkins climbed the stairs to the second floor. She thought about the time since her mother's and infant brother Henry's funeral 6 weeks ago. Her father had become listless in his grief, truly not knowing what to do with himself with Melanie gone. Her twin brother Will had stepped into his father's spot, running the plantation while the elder Tavington grieved. And Mary had assisted her brother as best as she could, having more of a head for the paperwork part of the job.

They all missed Melanie so very much, but William had taken it the worst. He had been much as his wife had been nearly a year before. She had taken to her bed when Josie died, and now William did much the same, having only left the bedchamber for a daily visit to her grave and to check in with his son about the farm.

Mary knew that her father would grieve, but she thought, and had hoped, that he would take it in a more stoic fashion, possibly even choosing to work harder through the grief as a means of distraction. Indeed the general was a hard worker and not given to long periods of lying about, which made watching this even harder for the children to bear on top of their own grief.

"Papa! It's Mary. May I come in?"

There was no answer from within. Mrs. Wilkins waited another moment at the door, hoping to hear her father's voice. When she heard only silence, she turned the knob slowly and entered his bedroom.

"Papa?" The girl walked around to the side of the bed near her father.

William Tavington sat up in bed. "Ah, Mary, my girl."

"Good morning, father," she said, embracing him and kissing his cheek as she sat down on the side of the bed near him.

"Oh, Will has no head for math, Papa," she said with a smile. "I have to do the books for him—"

"He will learn in time as I did," Tavington said. Mary remembered him recounting to her how he had to step into his father's business and take it over from her drunkard grandfather. He learned everything quickly; a sort of baptism by fire into the business world.

"I know," Mary answered quietly.

A moment of silence passed between the two. Mary broke the quiet.

"Papa, I know this has been hard on you," she began, "but you are needed. You must try to get up and help with the plantation."

William sighed. Though he loved and adored his oldest daughter, he didn't wish to be scolded, even in the kindliest fashion, by anyone of his children.

But before he could say an irritated word, Mary interjected. "I won't be able to help Will out anymore. The doctor says I can't."

Tavington sat up straight with concern etched on his face. He took his daughter's hand. "But….why?...What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious," she assured him. "The doctor just says I have to take it easy and rest more."

William was distressed immediately and it showed. He was worried for his child.

Mary could see the worry and wanted to soothe her father. "Papa, you're going to be a grandfather."

Tavington was surprised and it took a moment for his daughter's words to register. A smile soon crossed his face as he squeezed her hand.

"Oh, Mary," he exclaimed, "That's wonderful!"

His hand dropped from hers and went immediately to her abdomen, his fingertips touching her belly. Mary looked lovingly down at it.

"Mary, rest assured that I will be up more and take a hand back in running this plantation," affirmed Tavington.

"I'm pleased and happy for you and Jim," William said. He held back his own tears as his heart broke inside him, wishing that Melanie could be beside him for this news and the blessed event of the birth.

At that moment, William Tavington saw what he had seen before: that despite death, life keeps going on elsewhere. He realized that he had continued to live and command after many of his soldiers had fallen around him; and he'd lived through the deaths of five of his young children. And now he was hearing the news that he would soon have his first grandchild. Yes, life did indeed go on. The general knew that he did have the strength to mourn his beloved wife's passing and to be a father and a grandfather without Melanie as his side.

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1804…..

General Tavington stood at his wife's grave, recalling the bittersweetness of life after death. There had been much happiness in the 5 years since Melanie's death, and William had indeed relished having his children and grandchildren around him, as well as continued success in business. But his heart still ached for her, wishing she was by his side to enjoy the children growing and experience the joy of being a grandparent. He could only trust that she looked down from Heaven on the family.

"Ganpaw!"

William turned his head to see his granddaughter Millie skipping toward him. When she reached his feet, she began excitedly jumping, her arm extended, reaching up toward the bouquet of wild flowers that her grandfather held.

"Ganpaw! Me put fowers dair!," she said, pointing to Melanie's grave.

"Certainly, angel," he said, bending his tall frame down to hand her the flowers. She put them on her grandmother's grave, then smiled up at Tavington.

William smiled back at her. Mary and Jimmy had named her Melanie, but the family called her Millie for short. Tavington couldn't help but love intensely the grandchild named for his wife.

"Mama!," cried Millie, as she left William's side and ran toward her mother. Tavington turned to see his heavily pregnant daughter walking toward them. He sighed and scowled, wishing she would stay inside and rest instead of come outside into the hot afternoon sun. Just like her mother, he thought, unwilling to rest while pregnant, always wanting to come out for a walk!

Tavington remembered back about 4 years before, when Mary gave birth to Jamie, his first grandchild. He had worried for her during the pregnancy, thinking she might be like her mother and be prone to miscarriages. Then the day his daughter went into labor he worried that she would die in childbirth, as his own wife and her mother had done months before.

But when he was called in to see Mary after she'd given birth, he grasped her hand with tears in his eyes and a smile, relieved that she was fine. He gave thanks as Mary handed his grandson to him to hold for the first time, glad that the baby boy was healthy.

As Mary walked toward her father, she knew that he was standing at her mother's grave. She knew that he missed her dearly every day. Yet she had heard the rumors. She had heard the gossip that her father had taken up with a widow woman about 10 years his junior in Camden. But Mary knew that he was not in love with the woman as he still loved her mother deeply.

Indeed, General Tavington had met a pretty widow, her children grown and gone, in the town of Camden while he was there doing business. She ran a millinery shop. He only visited her there and would never bring her home to the plantation. He didn't love her and could never, but it was more just for a woman's company. Mary did understand that even though her mother had died, that her father still needed manly release.

William continued to watch his daughter waddle toward him. He remembered how she had stepped right into her mother's shoes after Melanie had passed on, becoming the hostess for plantation parties and functions. Tavington had been grateful that his daughter had wanted to take on Melanie's role.

After another moment, Mary finally reached her father. He put his arm around her as she leaned up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.

"You shouldn't be out here, darling," he scolded gently, "You should be resting."

"Nonsense, Papa," she replied. "I needed some fresh air." Mary leaned over and lifted her daughter up with much effort.

"Ganpaw, baby!" Millie said to Tavington with a grin as she touched her mother's very swollen belly.

"Yes, Millie."

Mary kissed her daughter then set her back down, unable to hold the toddler for too long in her condition. "I know you miss her so much, papa," she commented.

He sighed heavily. "I wish she was here to experience being a grandparent with me," he admitted.

Tavington went on. "Thank you for stepping up and taking on your mother's duties," he said.

"Father, you don't have to thank me for that. I've enjoyed helping when I could," she answered.

William put his arm around his daughter and pulled her to him, where he kissed her forehead. "You are the light of my life, Mary! You have brought me much joy."

"Thank you, Father," she said shyly.

With that, William offered his arm to his daughter, who willingly hooked her arm through his. Mary took Millie's hand as she turned to look at her son.

"Jamie, bring the puppy and come along now back to the house!"

"Yes, mama!" he called, gathering the puppy into his arms.

Mary began to stroll back toward the house with her father. Suddenly, the baby within her began to kick and move furiously, stopping her in her tracks.

Her hand moved to her abdomen. The young mother looked downwards, able to see her dress lift and roll a bit as the baby moved and fluttered about within her.

"What is it?" William exclaimed, always alarmed when it came to a pregnancy.

"Oh, he's awake now," Mary said with a smile, caressing her rounded belly.

Tavington smiled. He reached his hand out and placed it on his daughter's pregnant abdomen. She moved his hand slightly to position it over where the baby kicked.

He chuckled aloud as he felt a hard kick. "He's busy, isn't he…..or she?"

"I think it is a boy," she stated. "And if it is, Jim and I have decided to name him 'William'."

Tavington smiled, his heart filled with love and hope. "I'd like that," he simply replied.

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