"I'm sorry about your father, Johnny. He was a good man."

Jenkins, the head of shipping at the mine shook Jonathon's hand while Jonathon mumbled his thanks. It was the fiftieth time or more he'd heard the phrase, or a variation on it, and he was sick of it.

As Jenkins went to join a group of department heads from the office, Jonathon took in the crowded grand parlor. People milled about, smoking cigarettes, eating, drinking his father's liquor. Some huddled together in small groups, talking in quiet voices.

Billy was standing off to the side of the room with Kitty holding his hand. She'd been with him nearly continuously over the days since Father had died, supporting him through his grief. He needed it. His young face was pale and drawn, and his eyes had a haunted look. To Jonathon, he seemed lost. Jonathon shook his head. Poor kid. He didn't deserve to lose his father at the age of sixteen.

His mother was sitting on a couch surrounded by her friends. As they talked to each other, they tried to include her in the conversation, but she barely responded. Jonathon had noticed for most of last hour, she'd stared straight ahead, a plate with an untouched finger sandwich on her lap.

Thank goodness her friends had come early that day to help her get ready for the funeral. Ever since she'd been home from the hospital, she'd been like she was now, subdued almost to the point of catatonic. Jonathon wasn't certain she would have been able to get ready for the funeral on her own, and he and Billy would never have been able to manage it either.

Her friends had gotten her dressed, fixed her hair and makeup, and then taken her to the church. They'd stayed by her side all that morning, even riding in the car with her behind the hearse while Billy and Jonathon followed in the Duesenberg. Jonathon had worried how his mother would handle the service, but she'd born it as well as could be expected under the circumstances. She'd remained stoic until the moment they lowered the casket into the ground. That's when she'd broken down and her friends had to help her back to the car.

The funeral had been well attended. Most of the men who worked at the mine, business leaders, the mayor and other town officials, and even a state senator had come to pay their respects. After the burial, everyone had come to the Blackwell home where Mother's friends had arranged tables to be set up with food brought by their servants.  Jonathon just wished they'd leave. Well, everyone except for one.

Helen had come with her aunt and uncle. She looked beautiful as always in a navy blue knit suit, her blonde curls gleaming under her hat. Realizing he was looking at her, she gave him a sympathetic smile and a small wave. He smiled back, but as pain filled his heart, he tore his eyes away from her. He'd give anything to have her standing beside him, holding his hand and supporting him like Kitty was with Billy.

The people in the room were engrossed in their discussions or helping themselves to more food, and Jonathon realized no one was paying any attention to him. Maybe he could slip out without anyone noticing. He just needed to be alone for a few minutes so he could breathe.

He moved sideways towards the door while keeping an eye on those closest to him, but no one looked his way.  He stepped out, and when he turned around, he was dismayed. The hallway was filled with women in maid's uniforms, waiting until they were needed to bring more food out, clear away dishes, or clean ashtrays.

"Hello, Johnnie," he heard, and Annie appeared, a white apron over her black dress.

"Oh, hello," he said, his shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry about your dad."

"Thanks."

"Is there something we can get you, Mr. Blackwell?" an older woman asked loudly. She gave Annie a stern look, and Annie slunk back to the other women.

"Uh, no, no," he said, backing away from them. "I was, uh – I was just going to get a book for someone," he said, heading in the direction of the library.

"If you need anything, just ask."

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it with his eyes closed, then went to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He slumped down and put his head in his hands.

He hated this. Why couldn't they all leave? Didn't they see his family needed privacy?

Hearing the door opening behind him, he stood. Helen peeked in. "Am I disturbing you?" she asked with concern. "I can go–"

"No!" he said taking a step towards her. "Don't go," he said more quietly. "Please, come in."

She closed the door behind her and went to him. "How are you doing?" she asked gently.

"Fine," he answered automatically and forced a smile, but she still looked at him with concern. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"I'm real sorry about your dad, Johnny. I know how much you looked up to him."

"Yeah," he said, dropping his head as sadness overwhelmed him. He tried to push it down. He didn't want her to see.

"I wanted to be sure to tell you how sorry I am since I probably won't see you at the bank anymore."

He looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well... since you're the head of the company now, I thought you'd probably be too busy to bring the deposits."

She was right, he realized, and the pain in his chest became worse.

Over the last year, he'd continued his visits to the bank, and even though he only got to talk to her for a few minutes, it was often the highlight of his week. During that time, they'd gotten much closer. He could tell they'd developed a real friendship, but now he was going to lose that too.

"You probably want to be alone," she said. "I should go before my aunt and uncle start looking for me."

She didn't move, and he knew she was waiting for him to say goodbye, but he couldn't speak the words. He didn't want her to leave.

Then she held her hand out. "Bye, Johnny."

He took it, instantly feeling how soft it was. Her skin was pale compared to his, tanned by his time spent working outside. It felt good to feel her hand warm in his. Why couldn't his mother have accepted her? If she had, Helen would be his wife right now, helping him through this nightmare. Instead he had to support everyone else while he was left to deal with it all alone. He swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat.

She dropped his hand and before he knew what was happening, she'd put her arms around him. "I'm real sorry, Johnny," she murmured into his suit jacket.

He tentatively slid his arms up and around her, afraid she might move away if he hugged her back, but she didn't. She began rubbing his back in small circles, and he slumped against her as a wave of emotions washed through him. Her rubbing his back, comforting him like that made him feel like he wasn't alone after all, she was there with him.  And a memory tugged at him. This was how Ingrid would soothe him when he was very small.

He could smell her perfume, light and flowery, and her warm body pressed against him. He couldn't resist. He pulled her to him tighter and buried his face in her hair. In the silence, he breathed deeply, taking in her smell, her warmth, losing himself in the moment as the pain and grief ebbed away.

Long before he was ready to let go, she pulled away and he reluctantly released her. "I should go," she said, her blue eyes filled with sadness.

"I wish you'd stay," he said, taking her hand again.

"I know, but I don't want to upset your mother," she said, easing her hand out of his. "Your family is going through enough right now." She sighed. "I wish you well, Johnny."

It sounded too much like a final goodbye, and he couldn't bear it. "I'll see you at the bank next week. I'll find the time somehow. I'll keep making the deposits."

"That would be nice," she said, her face lighting up. "You're my favorite customer."

For the first time in days, he was able to smile a real smile. "You can count on it."

After she'd closed the door behind her, he sat back in the chair. Maybe after a month or two, his mother would be over the worst of her grief and he could bring up the subject of Helen again. Surely she would be anxious to see him married and starting a family now? Grandchildren she could love and help raise would be just thing to fill her days and help her recover from her loss.

The thought that he might be able to ask Helen to marry him, rekindled a hope that had long ago been dimmed. With his spirits lifted, he stood, ready to face the parlor again.

That night as Jonathon got ready for bed, he was still reliving his moment with Helen when he heard a noise coming from his bathroom. The door to Billy's bedroom was closed, but through it Jonathon could hear his brother's muffled sobs.

Jonathon sighed. He'd heard his brother crying every night since Father had died. Jonathon hadn't cried once, although he'd come close. He couldn't allow himself to break down, but Billy was still a kid. He'd been holding up as best as he could.  While the sound of his brother crying continued, Jonathon wondered if he should talk to him. Maybe it would help him feel better.

He knocked on the door, and after a moment of silence, there was a hoarse voice. "What, Johnny?"

"Put your robe on. I want you to come with me."

When Billy opened the door a minute later, his face was dry but blotchy, and his eyes were red. "Where are we going?"

"Down to the kitchen," Jonathon said, heading towards his door. "But be quiet. I don't want to wake Mother."

They padded softly down the stairs and through the long hallway. When they reached the kitchen, Jonathon looked through the cupboards until he found a small pan and put it on the stove. Then he got a bottle of milk out of the ice box.

"Have a seat," he said to Billy while he poured the milk in the pan. Billy sat at the small table, and after Jonathon lit the flame under the pan, he joined him.

Billy was slumped in his seat, his head hanging and Jonathon leaned forward. "I know it's hard moving on without Father, but we're going to be okay. You know I'm going to take care of you and Mother."

"I know," he mumbled.

"We have to be strong for Mother. She needs us right now."

"I'm trying to be strong," Billy said, wiping his eyes. "I really am, but..."

Jonathon waited, but Billy just continued to wipe his eyes. "What is it?" he prodded gently.

"It's all my fault, Johnny," Billy said with his voice cracking.  "If it wasn't for me, Father would still be alive."

Jonathon straightened with surprise. "How can you say that? You didn't do anything to Father."

"Yes, I did!" Billy cried, then wiped the tears that ran down his cheeks as he slumped again. "He told me to have the men move the steam shovel, but when he said it, the train whistle was blowing right by us and I couldn't hear where he said to put it." He looked up at Jonathon with desperate eyes. "I knew he'd get mad if I asked him to tell me again, so I didn't. He'd pointed to a spot so I told the men to move it there. When he saw where they'd put it, he started shouting – and then he fell." His shoulders curved inward. "That's why it's my fault. I made it happen."

Jonathon watched him wipe the tears that kept falling. He couldn't believe Billy had been carrying all that guilt. No wonder he'd been having such a hard time.

"You're not responsible, Billy."

"Yes, I am!"

"Listen to me!" Jonathon said, putting his hand on Billy's arm. "If Father hadn't yelled at you, he would have yelled at someone else that day. You know he would have. His heart was in bad shape, the doctors told us. If it didn't happen that day, it was going to happen eventually."

Billy stared at him, taking in what he'd said, and Jonathon continued. "Don't you see?  His bad heart was the reason why he died, not you."

"I – I didn't think about it that way," Billy said as Jonathon stood.

He went to the stove and poured the hot milk into two mugs. He set one in front of Billy as he took his seat. "I don't know what the doctors could have done even if they did know he had a bum heart. They probably would've told him to stay home and rest, but I don't know if Father would've listened to them."

"He wouldn't have," Billy said soberly. "He wouldn't have been able to stay away from the mine."

"And he was always getting hot under the collar about something."

"Yeah," Billy said sadly. "I guess you're right."

"All we can do now, is carry on without him. We have to make sure the mine does well, and continues to grow, and we have to help Mother."

"I'll be strong for Mother. You can count on me, Johnny. I'll try to make her feel better, and – I'll help with the mine too," he added more quietly, leaning over his mug.

"Thanks, Billy," Jonathon said, and blew on his milk.

It was going to be hard for both of them to go to work tomorrow, their first day there since Father had died, but they didn't have any other choice. Those men's jobs depended on it. Knowing how much Billy hated working at the mine, Jonathon guessed it was going to be doubly hard for him.

Jonathon sipped his milk. Even though Billy may never love the mine, there were jobs he could do that were a good fit for him. By time he was finished with high school, he'd figure out what they were, and then he'd be ready to pull his weight beside Jonathon.

The next morning when Jonathon walked in the dining room, it was empty. He stood at his father's chair at the head of the table, looking at it for a long moment. He hadn't sat in it yet. He hadn't wanted to, but not sitting in it felt wrong too. He was the head of the family now.

With a sigh, he sat down. Ingrid pushed through the swinging door with a coffee pot and a toast rack. She stopped short when she saw him, then set them on the table. When she turned to leave, Jonathon saw her pull a handkerchief out of her apron pocket.

When Billy walked in and saw Jonathon, his expression became more sad and he dropped his eyes. He sat in Jonathon's old chair without comment.

"I guess we shouldn't wait on Mother," Jonathon said, putting his napkin on his lap. She hadn't been down to eat breakfast with them once since she'd returned home from the hospital.

"Yeah," Billy said, his shoulders slumping. At least the dark circles under his eyes were less prominent. He'd slept better the night before.

"Ingrid!" Jonathon called out. When she appeared with a tray holding their breakfast, it was clear she'd been crying. "You'll keep an eye on Mother today, won't you?" he asked as she set his plate in front of him.

"Yes, sir. I vill take good care of her," she said in a wobbly voice, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

He took a toast point and concentrated on spreading butter on it, so he wouldn't see them. It was difficult to keep his emotions in check when the sadness in the house kept reminding him of his own grief.

After a somber breakfast, he and Billy had a silent ride to work. While he looked out the window, images of his father's unconscious body lying in the dirt kept flashing through his mind. He shook his head and stared at the road ahead of them. Dwelling on the past was going to drag him down, and he couldn't afford it. If he didn't show a strong front to the employees, they would lose confidence in him, and then the business would be doomed.

When they stepped into the large open office, the sound of typewriters and ringing phones all seemed to stop at once as people froze in the middle of what they were doing. There was silence as they stared at Jonathon and Billy, and then his father's secretary, Mrs. Gibson came out from behind her desk. "I'm sorry for your loss, Johnny, Billy," she said, nodding to each of them. "We're all going to miss Mr. Blackwell terribly."

Jonathon suppressed a sigh. Not this again. "The best thing we can do is continue on with our work," he said loudly to address everyone in the large office. "That's what my father would want – for all of us to get back to work."

Thankfully, they returned to what they'd been doing, and Jonathon turned to Mrs. Gibson. "Billy is going to be working in the office for the next few weeks – maybe longer." Billy looked at him with surprise.

"That won't be any problem," she said to Billy with a kind smile. "There's always paperwork that needs to be dealt with."

"And – I'll need help moving into my father's office," Jonathon said, forcing the words to sound commanding.

"Oh," Mrs. Gibson said faintly, her eyes suddenly troubled. "Of – of course."

"Is there a problem?"

"We, I mean some of us, we weren't sure – but of course," she stammered. "We can do that after the meeting."

"What meeting?"

"The – the head of all the departments are having a meeting in fifteen minutes. No one told you about it?"

Jonathon face flushed as anger boiled through him. "No, no one told me!" he spat. "Who called the meeting?"

"Mr. Jenkins arranged it."

Jonathon bit back the curse he was about to utter. "I'll be in my father's office until then," he said through gritted teeth. "Take Billy to bookkeeping and tell them he's working there for the time being, then I'll need you to take dictation for me at the meeting."

"Alright."

"Thanks, Johnny," Billy said, his expression already lighter.

Even though Jonathon was still angry, he was able smile, seeing the gratitude in his brother's eyes. "Sure thing," he said, giving him a pat on the back.

Once in his father's office with the door closed, he began pacing. How dare Jenkins take it upon himself to arrange a meeting? He didn't have any right to do that. He was only the head of the shipping department. And why had no one bothered to tell him about it? His father had only been gone for a few days, and things were already falling apart. Maybe this was why his father never wanted to be away from the mine. Without someone in command, the men were doing whatever they liked.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

Mrs. Gibson walked in, a pad of paper and a pencil in her hand. "They're assembling in the conference room," she said worriedly.

"Let's go!" he said, and strode purposefully past her.

****

Jonathon is dealing with a lot in this chapter, and I feel pretty sad for him.  Between dealing with his grief, trying to keep his family going, and now things being shaken up at the office, he's got his hands full.  He's had a small reprieve with Helen, but that's also a source of pain.  I'm sure you're all wondering how things are going to turn out!  Please share what you think is going to happen at that meeting, and with Helen!  I can't wait to hear it!

Thank you to everyone who took the time to tweet about this story for the Watty's.  And thanks to everyone for your continued suppport.  I'm blessed to have such great readers! 

Cheers!

Katherine