Jonathan gathered the children around him in the parlor. Sallie Amanda, the firstborn, at fifteen was approaching womanhood. Jonathan Braithewaite IV would have been next in line had he survived. Mary Elizabeth was eleven and Rachel Ann was nine. Jonathan and Amanda had almost despaired of bringing into the world a male heir, but four years after the birth of Rachel, Joseph William was born.

     The children had watched their mother's decline over the past few weeks and the three girls knew by their father's expression the news was not good.

     Young Joseph fidgeted and tugged on Rachel's arm. He tried to bolt for the door to find more interesting company, but Rachel caught him before he could get away.

     “Wait,” said Sallie to her little brother. “Try to show a little respect.”

     The sound of Sallie's stern voice, lately having taken the place of his mother's, settled the boy enough to allow their father a chance to speak without interruption.

     “Thank you, dear Sallie. Thank you all. What an unhappy time. Mother is very ill. She will not get well. I am afraid she is to be taken from us soon. Your mother is a strong woman and she is depending on us to be strong as well. For a time, at least, Sallie, you as the oldest must play the role of woman of the house. Joseph has not yet reached the age of understanding. He will ask from time to time where mother is. After he is told, he will ask when will she return. You must be patient. With time comes understanding. Now, please follow me. Your mother wishes to speak to all of you together.”

     Sallie took Joseph by the hand. She bent over and whispered in his ear. “You behave yourself while we're in mama's room or I'll take the switch to you.”

     “You're not my mother,” he said and stuck out his tongue. “You're my sister -plplpp.”

     “Just do as I say,” said Sallie.

     Jonathan stared down at Joseph from his great height with a look that cut off all debate. No words were exchanged.

     “It stinks in here,” said Joseph.

     Sallie jerked his arm.

     “Mother knows, Joseph,” said Amanda. “Come over and see me.”

     Sallie released Joseph's hand. The boy did not move.

     “Come,” said Amanda. “It's all right.”

     Amanda reached out and touched Joseph's cheek.

     “Mama will being going away soon,” she said.

     “When are you coming back?” he said.

     “I won't be coming back in this life, Joseph.”

     “No, I mean when are you coming home?” he insisted.

     “I'll be gone for a long, long time,” said Amanda. “You must be a very strong young man from now on, and listen to your sister. When she instructs you remember the voice of your mama who loved you.

     “Sallie, Mary Elizabeth, Rachel, come closer. Sallie, give me your hand.”

     Amanda took the girl's hand into her own and placed it over her heart.

     “The beat you feel is but the ticking of a clock. It is the marker by which the soul measures the passage of its earthly existence. Once upon a time when you were still a piece of clay inside my womb God struck the spark that set within your unformed bosom the ticking of the clock that marks the cadence of your life. For a time our hearts were bound together.

     “One day you burst forth to become my beloved daughter and the old union, as it had to be, was broken. From the day of your birth the new union was of another kind. Soon, now, that earthly bond, too, will be broken.

     “One day you will feel inside your womb a quickening that heralds the time God strikes the spark anew. Thus it goes.

     “At length, your heart, as mine, will beat its last, and in that final moment the chains that bind your soul will fall away. Having lived the life of the temperate and good, buoyed by love, your soul will fly to a joyous eternity with your Father who is in heaven.

     “Since you have life, it is you who grieves. The dead do not. Therefore, grieve not too long at my passing, for our time on earth is short. Be joyful so when you close your eyes for the last time your final remembrance will be that of a life well lived.

     “Please leave me now, for I must rest. My new journey is about to begin.”