A Hidden Queen

Chapter 8

Josephine sits within her bay window. She has somehow curled herself up onto the bench that sat there. Her head leans against the frame, staring blankly at the world below her. Smithen sighs as he gazes at his granddaughter. She was a broken young woman. He leans against the door jam, not willing to leave her alone. He startles as a servant approach with a folded maroon overcoat and tricorn hat sitting on the top.

"Someone came by and asked me to give these to you sir." He says quietly.

"Thank you." Smithen clears his throat.

Smithen takes the objects, watching as the man continued his way. He exhales heavily, glancing back into the room. He pushes himself off the doorframe approaching the young woman with careful ease. He quietly sets Clinton's overcoat and hat at her feet. Josephine's eyes dully gaze down at the objects. She takes in a shaky breath as new tears stream out of her eyes. In a rare act of emotion, Smithen squeezes her shoulder. There were truly no words he could say that would sooth the sorrow that filled her heart. He pats her back once before making his way to the door. He stops as he pulls the door around. Josephine wraps shaking hands around the coat. She brings the itchy, wool fabric up to her nose.

"It still smells like him." She whispers through her tears. "The smell of rum, sea salt and old worn-out leather. A smell that was always dad."

Smithen drops his gaze as he listens to her. Did he make the right decision? He wonders. He shakes his head, resting his fingers on his forehead. Smithen pulls the door shut as a new wave of cries and sobs leave Josephine's mouth. There was no changing the outcome of his decision now. He thinks. There was only a need to move forward.