False Expectations - Chapter 2

         I left about fifteen minutes later in the carriage Andrew called for me. Normally, I would rest while traveling so late at night, but my mind was racing. I had known my father was sick and the possibility of him dying was bad enough, but to be certain he would pass away so soon, maybe even before I could say goodbye, was more than I could bear. When I arrived early that morning, Mr. Brown, our head butler, greeted me.
         "How is he?"
         "Not well, I'm afraid, sir. He's waiting for you in his chambers."
         "Yes." I took off my gloves and fiddled with them nervously for a few moments.
         "Sir, I think the reason he's held up this long is to see you."
         I looked at him a moment and with an overwhelming sense of dread, I made my way up to my father's room. As I walked up the stairs, I couldn't help glancing at my father's portrait on the wall along with my mother's which was on the other side of the fireplace. He was wearing his best suit in the portrait, his dark hair parted to the left, and although he wasn't smiling, one could tell just by looking at him that he wasn't cross. He always had a gentleness about him that would put anyone at ease the moment they came into his presence. My mother had that same pleasantness, which is what I imagine brought them together. She was fair and like my father, had dark hair. My mother had worn one of her most beautiful dresses and my favorite for the portrait. It was blue with a hint of green and reminded me of the sea. She sat gazing at me as if to say, "It's alright, Charles. Everything will be alright." How I wanted to believe her.
         "Father?" I called timidly as I cracked the door open.
         "My son." He was smiling wearily. "I had prayed that I would live to see you once more." As he was speaking, I walked over to him and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. The room was dark, with the shades down and only two candles lit. Still, I recognized all the familiar things in my father's chamber. His desk was in the corner, in perfect order just as he had always kept it. A copy of the portrait downstairs of my mother hanging above it. To the right of that and next to the door was a shelf full of his favorite books and on top of the shelf, a collection of some of his most treasured possessions. I turned back to my father as he began to speak. "Now, since your mother has passed away and you are our only child, you are to inherit this estate along with the entire family fortune." He broke out into a fit of coughs. "I'm so sorry I'm leaving you at such a young age, but I want you to know how good of a man you have become. Your late mother and I have raised you to be a man of integrity and a man of God. Charles, you are noble and kind and I couldn't be prouder to have you as my son." I took his hand and looked down, making an attempt not to tear up. His hand slowly loosened and eventually fell out of mine. I looked up to see my father's lifeless eyes staring back into mine. I gulped and started breathing heavily and once I was able to pull myself together, I closed his eyes and called for Mr. Brown. The funeral was held two days later and I made my way back to Oxford the following day.
         I arrived on campus in the early evening and when I entered my dorm room, I found Andrew at the desk working on his term paper. "Waited this long to start that thing?"
         "No, of course not. I started it yesterday." Andrew looked up at me. "I'm sorry, Charles."
         "He died the day I had arrived. I held his hand." We were silent. "I'm very tired. I think I'll go to bed." I then placed my bags down and dragged myself to bed. I had been lying down for a few minutes when I spoke up, "Andrew?"
         "Hmm?"
         "I think I'll take you up on your offer this year." Andrew looked over to me. "Would you still have me this summer?"
         Andrew smiled, "Charles, you know you are always welcome. Now, get some rest. You've had a long week and have a lot to catch up on."