Free The Journey by Josephine Cox

would stay; his presence gave her so much comfort.
    “I’ll stay as long as you like.” Ben did not hesitate. “There’s nothing urgent waiting at home.” He had only offered to leave out of consideration, and was delighted that she felt need of him.
    “I won’t be long.” While Ben went to join Arthur in the kitchen, Mary ran upstairs and crept into her mother’s bedroom. She gazed down on Lucy’s sleeping face. In the gentle light from the bedside lamp, her mother looked so much younger; her skin was clear and smooth as alabaster, and her lashes lay like spiders’ legs over the slight curve of her cheeks. Her long hair was loose about her shoulders and her wide, pretty mouth was ever so slightly turned up at the corners as in a half-smile.
    Reaching down, Mary laid her own hand over that of her mother. She could feel the warm softness of her skin, and beneath the tip of her fingers, the blood running through Lucy’s veins. Holding hands was not something she and her mother did all that often, so she felt privileged, and oddly humbled.
    Choking back the emotion, she slid her mother’s hand beneath the sheets and covered it over. She then stroked her fingers through the long graying strands of hair where they lay nestled on the pillow like silken threads; so soft in her fingers.
    She gazed long on Lucy’s face, her eyes following every feature, every shadow and shape, and all the while she wondered about her mother, and about her father. What had transpired before she was born? What was the secret that she had always known existed? And why had she never been told of her parents’ true past?
    Her heart turning with emotion and the questions burning bright in her mind, she kissed the sleeping woman and made her way back downstairs to the men: Arthur had mashed the tea and was busy pouring it out. “She’s sleeping well,” Mary told them, gratefully accepting the cup that was handed to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so peaceful.”
    “Thank God for that.” Arthur knew what a restless soul Lucy was, and unlike Mary he knew the reason why. “It will do her the world of good to sleep through the night.” His voice fell until it was almost inaudible. “If she’s in a deep sleep, maybe she won’t be plagued by the bad dreams.”
    “What bad dreams?” Mary had heard his quiet words and they bothered her. “Mother never told me about any dreams.”
    Silently cursing himself, the little man tried to dismiss his remark. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he lied. “I recall how she once told me she’d had a bad dream, that’s all.”
    Mary wasn’t satisfied. “You said she was plagued. That doesn’t sound like one bad dream to me.” She knew Arthur had known her parents long before she was born, and now she realized he was part of the secret she had never been privileged to share. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
    Sensing something too deep for his understanding, Ben wisely changed the subject. “The fire’s almost out. Shall I put more logs on?”
    Relieved that the moment was broken, Arthur turned to him. “I think it might be a good idea,” he said, and to Mary, “if that’s all right with you?”
    Having believed that she was on the verge of a long-awaited peep into the past, Mary now felt cheated. “Yes,” she answered, “best keep the fire alive. I for one won’t be going to bed tonight.”
    Arthur was horrified. “You must get your sleep,” he told her. “I’ll stay here and keep a check on your mother. I promise to wake you if needs be.”
    Mary looked at Ben. A man of few words, he had such quiet strength. “Will you stay?”
    He smiled on her, a slow, easy smile that filled her heart and made her feel safe. “Of course. Arthur’s right, though. Your mother will need you to be bright and alert tomorrow. You’ll sleep better in your bed.”
    Mary would not hear of it. “I’m staying here with you two. Three pairs of ears are better than one, and