Plague

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hank Talbot sat on the couch between his grandparents. Tears ran uncontrollably down his cheeks. Devastated, he sobbed at the loss of his mother.

Tenderly, Moo-ma placed her arm across her grandson's shoulders. Poo-pa rested his hand on the boy's knee. Together, they attempted to comfort Hank.

"Mommy," the child sobbed as he leaned into his grandmother's ample bosom.

Beatrice Talbot hated telling bad news, particularly to a youngster. Deep in her heart, she wished her son were at home to do his duty. The mother did not know Oliver's exact location. However, she did know his current mission was an important one. Although he could not share details, she realized it had something to do with the plague epidemic.

Jeff Talbot exchanged a look over with her over Hank's head. His thoughts ran in the same direction. Only upon the completion of his mission could Ollie speak about it. Top Secret assignments ran in the family. General I. Geoffrey Talbot recalled many of his own. Luckily, his wife accepted the terms of his military career. It had not always been the case with Oliver's wife. Still, he should not think ill of the dead.

Overcome with emotion, Hank leaped from the couch and ran for his room. He loved his Moo-ma and Poo-pa, but he suddenly wanted the loneliness of his bed-chamber. Diving headlong onto the bed, he buried his face in the pillow. Sobs shook his young form.

"Mrrrrowww." Floyd jumped up next to the child and rubbed his grey body against the boy's arm. "Mrrrrowww."

Gently, Hank stroked the misty grey cat's fur. The closeness of his pet consoled him. Orange and white Blinky made himself comfortable on the boy's stretched-out legs. Soothingly, he purred. Instinctively, the cats knew their master's sorrow. They came to him to offer the love and assurance he required. While the child slept, the fluffy brothers kept vigilance.

At noon, Bea stood in Hank's doorway and watched. One arm hugged Floyd as the child sprawled across the bed. The cat raised his head, a contented look etching his features. Blinky stretched and yawned. Tenderly, the grandmother closed the door. Satisfied, she left Hank to sleep away his grief.

The youngest Talbot awoke in the middle of the afternoon. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. Blinky wandered into his lap; Floyd snuggled close to his side.

The news of his mother's passing greatly disturbed the young boy. Death had not entered his life—at least not that of a close family member.

******

For some reason, Hank never grew close to his mother. He often longed for a gentle touch or a loving word from her. Rushing off with her girlfriends, Liz barely had time for her only offspring. Frequently, he heard her complaining about the encumbrance of having a child underfoot. His appearance stunted her playtime activities.

"One is enough," Elizabeth grumbled to Gayle Murray. "I wish I didn't have any children, but Ollie insisted. It's so much easier without stumbling over a brat."

"Hmmm," Gayle murmured, stretching out.

Unobserved, Hank stood in his parents' bedroom doorway. Downstairs, Grant Hardwicke waited in the kitchen. The boys intended to play baseball at the school's field. He came home to ask permission and pick up his catcher's mitt.

Habitually, Liz complained of migraines and spent whole afternoons in bed. When he could not locate his mother downstairs, Hank climbed to the second level. Easing open the door, the boy peered inside. He gasped and stepped back. Naked, his mother and her best friend sprawled across the bed.