Chapter 33 - Sober End

Chapter 33 - Sober End

A Chapter by Patricia Gayle
"

Caleb watches the funeral from the trees and says his final goodbyes.

"

          Caleb slowly and solemnly followed the road toward the cemetery where, only a couple of short years ago, they had buried Gracie.  Caleb thought back.  He remembered being in such a haze the whole time, that he was not even able to comfort Elizabeth.  This haze, however, had not been caused by his drinking, like so many others.  Instead it had been the product of the pain and sorrow he felt over losing another child.  It had hurt him deeply to lose Gracie, but it hurt just as badly that he was unable to help his wife through such a difficult time.  The death had been a shock to him.  One moment, the doctor was telling them she was only suffering from a common childhood illness and would recover quickly, and the next they were gathered around her gravesite laying her tiny body to rest.

          Now Caleb made his way to witness the burial of yet another child.  This child was merely weeks old; a daughter he had never even been given the opportunity to hold.  Now, once again, he was unable to comfort his grieving wife.  He was unable to take her in his arms and assure her that all would be fine and time would heal their wounds.  Only now, his inability to care for her, like a husband should, was not the result of his own pain and heartache, but the result of his own carelessness and betrayal.  Now, he realized, in his sober and sorrowful state that the only person he could blame for the pain that he and Elizabeth were feeling, was himself.  How could he possibly justify his actions; those actions that led to the death of his new infant daughter?

          Caleb rode slowly up the road, which seemed, in that moment, to stretch on for a hundred miles.  This day, even the sky seemed to mourn the loss.  The clouds hung low and grey and sent in gusts of chilly moist air.  The trees bowed in the wind as if the hands of hell were reaching down to grab him up and carry him to a place where he would forever pay for his sins.  He pulled his coat tighter to his body and rode on. 

          Finally, he reached the top of the hill, where the trees gave way to a clearing, speckled with white tombstones and rustic wooden crosses.  Near the center of the graveyard, a small congregation of people stood over a tiny hole dug out in the earth.  A minister, dressed in a black robe, stood before the people with a bible lying open in his arms.  He read from the books pages in a low solemn voice. 

A sobbing arose from the group and, as Caleb sat atop his horse and watched, he saw it was Elizabeth.  She was dressed in black from head to foot.  She bent forward slightly and held a white handkerchief to her face.  In the low grey lighting and her attire, she looked to be twenty years older.  Matt Butler stood at her side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.  He held her against him and leaned in to whisper something.  Words of comfort, perhaps, Caleb thought, words that he could not speak to her, though he had caused her all this pain. 

The minister finished reading from the scripture, then bent his head in prayer.  The people in the small congregation, all bent their heads in unison after him.  Then the people began to slowly disperse, stopping to speak softly to Elizabeth before they departed.  Elizabeth, however, stayed behind after most of the others had departed. 

Though, Caleb kept himself concealed among the trees, he swore Elizabeth had turned on several occasions and peered directly at him.

The tiny wooden box was lowered into the ground and two men went to work filling the hole with dirt.  Elizabeth stood and watched, her sobs growing louder and more fierce until finally her cousin had to pull her away from the gravesite.  She hesitated a moment when he tried to help her into the buggy.  She reached inside her overcoat pocket and pulled out something, then pushed away from Matt and knelt at the headstone.  She placed it carefully on the ground and then returned to the buggy.

Caleb watched as the buggy left the cemetery and went back down the hill.  He stayed among the trees for several moments and then jumped down from his horse.  He moved slowly toward the gravesite.  His youngest daughter was now buried in a plot directly next to Gracie.  He stopped a moment at Gracie’s grave and then stepped over to Katherine’s.  The headstone read, “Katherine Campbell, October 18, 1859-November 1, 1859, An angel taken to heaven much too soon.”  Caleb’s heart broke again as he read the words.  He knelt and ran his fingers over the inscription, then looked to see what Elizabeth had left on the grave.

There on the fresh dirt, laid the shiny gold watch Mr. Meyers had given him the first Christmas he had spent with the family.  He ran his fingers lightly over the stallion on its cover, then opened it and found inside a small piece of paper fold and tucked away neatly within the casing.  He unfolded it carefully and read what it said,  “Caleb, my dear, remember the wonderful times and keep them close, for they will always be ours.  Though I still love you greatly, I know it is time that I must let you go.  Please do the same for me.  This is what is best for us all.  Forever, Elizabeth.”

Caleb sat back in the fresh dirt and buried his face in his hands.  He sobbed until there were no more tears left in him.  He knew now, that as much as it hurt, he had to let her go.  He knew that to continue to fight for her would only bring them more, unnecessary pain and heartache.  As impossible as it seemed, he knew it was time to move on and try as best he could to start a new life on his own.

Caleb stood up and dusted himself off.  He slid the paper back into the watch and then dropped it in his pocket.  He took one more look at the gravesites of his daughters and then rode off toward the west, to start new.

 



© 2010 Patricia Gayle


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Added on January 3, 2010
Last Updated on March 19, 2010

Burning Bridges


Author

Patricia Gayle
Patricia Gayle

College Station, TX



About
I'm 25 and have been writing for close to 10 years now. Writing is my release...my therapy. I've written and self published one book, a regional non-fiction I completed in the summer after highschoo.. more..

Writing