Thank you all so incrediby much for all the lovely reviews you are leaving on this story. It truly means the world to read! And now that FanFic is back up and running at long last for me, I give you Chapter 41. I hope you enjoy :)
Uneasy.
That's how his sleep could be described. Or at least that's the word Mary would use as she watched him lie in the metal bed pushed next to her mother's bedside. He had taken off his suit jacket and tie before lying down, but even so. Sleeping in a suit in that bed could not be comfortable. Least of all with everything troubling him. But that bed was a thousand times better than the chair. Anything was, she had to say, now that she had spent a few hours sitting in it.
Her father kept turning in his sleep, from his side to his back and back to his side again. And yet, in all his tossing and turning, his hand never let go of his wife's, no matter how much he moved around. Mary had, in all the weeks and months that had passed since her grandmother's death and her mother's initial diagnosis, never seen her father like this. Not even on the day of his mother's funeral. He had been dewy-eyed as they watched her be lowered so close to Sybil, but he had been collected nonetheless; they all had been considering the circumstances and the immense loss they had suffered. She had admired him for how well he had seemed to be coping, how he had tried to do everything he could to help their Mama and put his grief aside. It was what gave her the strength to keep going as well. If her father could care for his ill wife when his mother had just passed away, then she could just as well organise a funeral and keep making business decisions in everyone's best interest. But maybe that had not been the whole story.
Mulling these things over again and again, Mary's eyelids began to feel quite heavy after a while, and eventually, she dozed off, too, sitting in her hospital chair with one of the two blankets draped over her that the nurse had brought in earlier.
Her light slumber did not last long, though. Soon, whispers woke her up, almost silent mentions of a name that seemed to linger in the air, waiting to be heard.
Mary opened her eyes, but she could not make out much in the dim light; only the faint glow of the waning moon outside illuminated the room. Her eyes slowly accommodated to the lack of light and she saw her mother move slightly in the bed. She had woken up. Finally.
She should wake her father, shouldn't she?
But even before she could get up and move to wake him, she saw her father stir as well.
"Robert?"
Someone called out his name. Very lightly. Almost inaudible.
"Robert?"
Someone called out his name again. But he did not want to wake up, not when he had finally found sleep what felt like only a few seconds ago. This was surely a dream, what else could it be?
"Robert?"
He felt someone lightly, so very delicately, squeeze his hand. Or was that just part of the dream as well?
"Robert?"
Oh, this must definitely be a dream, a very vivid one at that. The voice sounded so familiar in the way she called out his name, so inimitable. He knew that voice, that lovely, lovely voice. It must be a memory from long ago, a cherished one that his subconscious dug out.
Someone squeezed his hand yet again.
"Robert?"
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked over to the other bed, expecting to see his wife still sleeping. He was looking straight into her face that was turned to him, expecting her to lie there still in her deep sleep, her eyelashes fanning out across her cheeks.
But only she wasn't asleep. Her eyes were wide, searching for him in the relative dark of the room.
"Robert?"
Someone was squeezing his hand.
No.
Cora was squeezing his hand!
For a second, he simply lay there on his side, looking at her in complete and utter disbelief.
"Cora? Oh, Cora, darling!" he exclaimed, sitting up in his bed when realisation finally dawned on him. All prior sleep and drowsiness instantly fell away from him. "Thank God! Do you need anything, my dear? Should I call someone?"
Her voice was hoarse and small in the otherwise tranquil room when she replied: "No, don't call anyone just yet. But some water would be nice."
When her father was about to get up and leave her mother's bedside, Mary did the same, but only quicker. "Stay there, Papa. I'll get some water and then go and look for a nurse in a few minutes. They need to know she's awake."
The water jug the nurse had brought in a while ago did indeed stand closer to Mary on the small table and she filled two glasses; one for her father and one for her mother. He needed it just as much as her, if only to calm his nerves a bit. He was behaving a bit like Tiaa when she was younger, excitedly running around and almost making them all stumble over her at one point.
Robert kept whispering to her relievedly, pressing kisses to her knuckles and stroking her cheek, while Cora could only look at him with big, teary eyes. Mary had her back turned to them to put their glasses away, but she couldn't help but steal a brief glance over her shoulder.
She saw the scene. She saw how her father had pushed his metal bed away a bit to be able to kneel by her bedside and find himself level with her. She saw how he looked at her Mama with barely suppressed emotions as he kept on whispering to her in his quivering voice, stroking her hair and caressing her cheek relentlessly as if he had to make sure she was truly there.
Mary took that as the perfect opportunity to grant them some privacy, and she quietly slipped from the room. What she heard just when her hand came to rest on the doorknob, however, made her breath hitch in her throat.
"You are here," she heard her mother rasp quietly in her father's direction. "Like you said."
"Of course. I made a promise, my dear," he replied slowly and equally as softly in the quaint room that still smelled faintly sterile. After looking for his second handkerchief in his pocket and dabbing at the wet stains on his cheeks, he said: "I am so sorry for blubbering. I am just so relieved to be here, talking to you and getting to look into your eyes."
With a gentle, yet tired smile, she replied: "So am I, Robert."
"I am so relieved, you cannot imagine how much," he said with a subtle shake of his head, still in disbelief at the situation unraveling. And then, just a little louder and sounding as if he could finally breathe properly for the first time in weeks, if not months, this invisible weight weighing down on him suddenly lifted, he exclaimed breathily: "Oh Cora, my darling." He stroked her cheek carefully and so very lovingly yet again, this time with both his hands on either side of her face, as he looked at her intently. Finally, his eyes locked with hers, he breathed: "My dearest darling!"
Mary did not see the lingering kiss her father then pressed on the back of her mother's hand that was still clasped in his while his eyes never left hers. She did not see the silent conversation between her parents that followed in the room that was only illuminated by the low light of the moon and the lamp she had switched on when she handed them both their glasses of water.
And she did not need to. She knew without even a shadow of a doubt how much he loved her. This exchange she just witnessed spoke more of her parent's love for each other than those three most commonly used words could ever express.
It was not the words he uttered, or even the endearment he used. Not predominantly, at least. What made her heart skip a beat was the conviction with which he said the words. The love that dripped from every enunciated syllable.
The static noise crackled on the line as Mary put the telephone down in the empty hallway the nurse had shown her to. She had just talked to Edith, whom Mead had woken up after she told him to go and fetch someone — anyone, really, from her family. Her sister had sounded sleepy, and no wonder. It was half three in the morning. That was not exactly a time anyone wanted to be woken up at, but Mary had promised she would call as soon as there was even the slightest change, and this was more than a welcome call for her sister to receive, she had been assured repeatedly.
Feeling relieved, Mary thanked one of the few nurses on night duty and went back to her mother's room. When she entered, she found both of her parents asleep and this time, her father's sleep seemed much more peaceful. He was not tossing this and that way, he did not look as troubled with his brows furrowed as he slept. His face was turned to her mother, who had fallen asleep herself again. Their hands were still joined, and Mary doubted her Papa would ever let go of his wife's hand ever again.
Chancing a quick look at the clock on the wall, she deemed four hours to be just enough to go back to sleep herself.
"Ah, Good morning, Lord Grantham, Lady Mary," the doctor nodded when he entered the room and saw his patient's family already assembled there at eight o'clock on the dot. What he did not know, though, was that they had been there the entire night, and if things would go their way, he would never find out. "And Lady Grantham, a very good morning to you, as well. How do you feel?"
Cora smiled weakly at the young, bespectacled man now standing in front of her, before looking at the three other men assembled behind him. She knew Doctor Clarkson, of course, only too well. And she assumed the smaller man must be the elder Doctor Wallsom — the two men looked quite alike. But she had no clue who the fourth man was.
Averting her gaze back to the youngest man in front of her, she said: "Good morning, doctor. I'm still quite tired, I'm afraid."
"That is to be expected," he smiled, checking something written on the pages on the clipboard in his hands. "But the pain medication is working sufficiently? You are not in too much pain?"
"Yes, so far everything seems quite manageable," she replied pleasantly.
"Good, very good." Again, Doctor Wallsom checked his clipboard. It intrigued Robert, he wanted to know what it was the young doctor had written there. He was beginning to get quite nervous — there were four doctors in the quaint room and he wasn't used to that. This could only mean bad news, he was sure. Very bad news, indeed.
"We have come to talk to you about the operation and what is to follow, which will also pertain to your family."
As if this was his cue, the elder Doctor Wallsom stepped up to his son and said: "Yesterday's operation did take us longer to finish than we initially anticipated, as I mentioned yesterday. That was because when we found the tumour, it was much bigger and more complicated than we thought."
Mary saw her father's finger start tapping rapidly on his thigh while he looked at the doctor expectantly. Her mother must have seen it, too, for she carefully slipped her hand into his left one that had been resting loosely on her mattress. Mary couldn't help but start to get anxious as well at the sight of that.
Taking them all out of their misery, Charles Wallsom added with a cautious smile on his thin lips: "But we are confident that we got it all, the entire tumour. Which should be all that counts, really."
Robert heaved a slight breath of relief at that and quickly granted his wife a small, yet still nervous smile.
"We were fortunate enough to have had Doctor Bancroft in the operating theatre with us, because he managed what we never could have," intervened Doctor Clarkson from behind the father and son duo before either of them could say more. "We had to perform something called a radical mastectomy of your left breast to make sure that we did indeed get the whole tumour out. Doctor Bancroft, however, has managed to reconstruct at least parts of your breast and that together with the excellent technique he used to close the wound should contribute to as normal an appearance as possible once everything is healed fully," he elaborated, motioning towards the tall and still stoically silent man standing behind him with a gracious smile.
"Thank you, Doctor Bancroft," Cora said with a grateful expression on her face as she looked at the fourth doctor, who merely nodded slowly in acknowledgement. He did not appear to be the most talkative person. The true extent of what the doctors had just said went over her head at that moment, she was too relieved to hear that her leap of faith in getting the treatment seemed to have given her another chance at this thing called life.
"There is a long road of recovery ahead of you, I won't deny it. We would like to keep you here for another two weeks for observation, some more tests and monitored recuperation. After that, we would like to send you home as soon as possible without another hospital stay. Doctor Clarkson is more than capable of handling the rehabilitation process and we are sure that you would rather be at home than in a hospital."
Cora quickly looked around the room, and smiling softly, she replied: "You are right, doctor. Although I have to say that this is a far nicer room than any of the hospital rooms I have seen so far."