by Read, Calia
“Nathalie can have her child infatuation for him as much as she wants, but I genuinely worry about that boy,” Momma said.
At that, I frowned. I didn’t know what child infatuation meant, but I didn’t care for the sound of it. Not at all.
“That boy is no longer a boy,” Daddy said.
Momma sighed. “I know, Adrien. But I cannot help it; he’s one of my own. And I swear, he’s always injured when he’s here.”
The first time Asa sprained his foot happened to be at Belgrave. He was ten and Étienne was gloating that when he jumped, his fingers always touched the entryway downstairs. Something no one could believe, considering how high the ceilings were.
Livingston and Asa were shorter and took turns jumping over and over and over.
Momma admonished them. Told them they would hurt themselves. They waited until her back was turned and proved her right. Asa hurt his ankle badly. His daddy was red angry, saying he would never let his son back. But a few months later, he did.
Asa always came back.
Daddy waved her words away. “He’s fine. Asa’s a strong man. He will heal.”
I wished I could see Momma’s face. Something must have shifted because Daddy’s smile faded and he appeared almost concerned. “What is it, Charlotte?”
Momma was quiet for so long that I began to think she hadn’t heard Daddy when she finally answered. “When we met Asa, we knew he was unlike most children, and he’s growin’ into a fine young man, but… I always thought Jameson was rather hard on him.”
“Sometimes fathers can be that way.”
“Yes, but he was too firm with Asa. And now look at the poor boy. His only friends are Livingston, Étienne, and Miles. He lives inside books and reads at a remarkable pace. And when he attempts to hold a conversation, he offends or shocks people by sayin’ exactly what he’s thinkin’.”
Daddy’s chair squeaked as he leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “I agree with you. Asa is a rather… distinct young man. But you cannot fix him. He’s not your child, Charlotte.”
Momma sighed. “I know, I know. That’s not goin’ to stop me from hopin’ that his future is better than his past.”
“Do you believe Jameson and Edith have been abusive to Asa?”
“Edith? Of course not,” Momma replied at once. “And I don’t think Jameson inflicts physical harm. But I think he hurts him with words.”
Daddy frowned. “You’ve never told me this before.”
“Because I believed my thoughts irrational at times, but when I insisted Asa relax in the sittin’ room with his foot up, he gave me that same confounded expression. As though he didn’t understand why I would be concerned for his welfare.”
Before Momma could say anything else, I stepped back from the door and hurried down the hall. Why did they worry about Asa? Should I worry about him? They spoke of Asa as though he had flaws. Impossible. I knew no one was perfect but to me he was the closest thing there was.
But I could believe that his daddy could be cruel. I had never cared much for Mr. Calhoun. I don’t think he cared very much for me either. I always felt tense in his presence and wouldn’t relax until he was gone.
Asa would never make eye contact with his daddy, and he would move restlessly when he was near. Asa always called him, Sir, as though he was a stranger rather than his daddy. But if what Momma said was true, his response made sense.
As I walked down the hall, I made a vow to be more like Momma. I would take care of Asa and make sure he had a good life. I was young and small. It was easy to disparage me. But this was one vow I knew I could make good on.
Once I reached the foyer, the sitting room was in clear view. There was no one in there to shoo me away from Asa or to stop me from looking after him. Very quietly, I slipped into the room. Asa remained in the same spot as I left him, but far more at ease. A pillow was propped behind his head with his eyes closed. Was he sleeping? I thought he was. Perhaps I should go and let him rest.
“Nat, I know you’re there,” he said, without opening his eyes. “You are not as quiet as you believe yourself to be.”
Quickly, I rushed forward before he could change his mind. I started to sit on the footrest but thought better of it. I didn’t want to accidentally touch his foot. So I sat on the edge of the coffee table.
Nervously, my knees bounced up and down as I looked at the object of my affection. “Are you upset with me for tellin’ Momma?”
Asa opened his eyes and tiredly looked at me. He appeared exasperated. The same way my brothers did when I asked them too many questions. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. I didn’t want to upset him.
“No, I am not upset,” he replied.
I smiled, and with relief, my shoulders sagged. “I’m glad.”
Asa went back to relaxing. I knew I should let him be. But I had one question that was burning a hole in my brain since I listened to Momma and Daddy’s conversation.
“Should I worry about you?” I blurted.
Once again, Asa’s eyes opened. He tilted his head to the side and observed me. The minute the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Why did I say that?
The corner of his mouth lifted, and his beautiful brown eyes sparkled with humor. “Should you worry about me?”
My question was sincere, but Asa believed it to be a joke. I was too embarrassed to say otherwise.
Sheepishly, I shrugged and looked down at my lap.
“Well, as far as I know, there’s nothin’ to worry yourself over.” I lifted my head in time to see Asa gesture to his foot. “Ultimately this will heal, and everythin’ will be okay.”
I nodded, allowing him to think my concern centered around his injury. Asa didn’t know it, but I would worry for him whether he wanted me to or not.
With a heavy grunt, Asa sat up. “Since you’re here. We may as well continue our conversation on clouds. Did you know that a man by the name of Luke Howard named the clouds in 1802?”
Resting my chin between my palms, I leaned forward, eyes wide, knowing I was about to hear a long, riveting story.
This right here was why I loved him. This was why I would marry him and always protect him.
“I did not know that. Please go on.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Asa
“Are you certain our stay in Venice was long enough?”
I understood the true meaning behind her question: was two weeks long enough for the scandal to die down? No, it wasn’t.
This is Charleston. Scandals live in infamy, burn brighter than the sun, and are treasured more than sweet tea.
It would be a long time before people around here forgot about the wedding that Nathalie Claiborne burst upon. In fact, I could see my children telling their children about the beautiful woman with dark, dark hair and light eyes who stormed through the church doors on my wedding day. The story would change through time. Details would be embellished for the sake of the story. But the shock would remain the same.
“Asa?” Juliet gently prods. “Do you think we stayed in Venice long enough?” she repeats.
“I believe so,” I lie. “There’s only so much of Italy you can see before you must return home. Besides, I have work to attend to.”
Juliet blinks at me, her eyes filled with so much childlike trust that she nods.
Nathalie’s an optimistic, but she craves the truth in every situation. Nathalie would have asked what work waited for me, and I would’ve told her. She wouldn’t have been lost because her brother was Étienne and although she could be quiet, she listened when he talked. She knew more about business than most businessmen.
Shyly, Juliet reaches out and places her hand over mine. “What will I do while you’re gone?”
“Anythin’ you please.” Leaning forward, I gesture to the window as we drive. “This is why we’re drivin’ about Charleston. So that when I’m at work, you’re familiar with your surroundin’s.”
“That’s true,�
� Juliet concedes. “However, if I become turned around, perhaps I can ask your momma to show me around.”
Juliet seems so hopeful that my momma will step in to save the day. I don’t have the heart to tell her that she should save her hope for something else. Momma couldn’t step in and help me as a child. She isn’t about to help her new daughter-in-law.
I keep a strained smile on my face and nod, but Juliet is already staring out the window, staring at the shops.
Her face lights up. “Oh, can we stop there?”
With her fingernail, Juliet points to Madame Bourgeois’ dress shop. I stare at the shop with a sense of dread. The last place I want to go to is a dress shop, but the purpose of this drive is for Juliet to feel more comfortable.
Tomorrow I go back to work at Southern Bell. I’m restless and ready to return to my old routine. There were times during our honeymoon that I couldn’t stop myself from going through documents for Étienne’s business, EAL Corporation, and wrote down reminders of people I needed to contact, and contracts I needed to read over when we arrived in Charleston. But even with those small moments where I broke away from Juliet, she appeared dismayed. How would she manage when I was gone throughout the day?
“Please stop,” I tell the driver.
At once, the car brakes, eliciting the car behind us to honk their horn.
“No need to park. We’ll make a quick exit.” I lean across Juliet to open the car door and open my own door to rush over to help her out of the car. She takes my hand and steps onto the sidewalk, her blue eyes holding the same wonder they always do.
Will there ever be a time she’s unhappy? I’m beginning to think she’ll never be troubled by life.
Even Nathalie, my Lady Gouldian, has fire in her. One rarely sees it, though. It takes a lot for her to become heated.
How is she? Is she still in Charleston? It was agony not being able to speak with her. It had been so long. The last time I saw her was Tuesday, May 25th, 1915. The day of her birthday.
I didn’t go to Savannah for Oliver’s funeral. I wanted to more than anything, but I simply knew I couldn’t be trusted around her. So I stayed away.
The moment I saw Nathalie at the church, I saw the transformation that had occurred throughout the years. She was no longer the hopeful, naïve girl I once knew. Her almond-shaped eyes were sharp and knowing and sad. Almost as though she saw the world for what it truly was and could never forget it.
I loved my Nathalie for her never-ending happiness and joy. But the Nathalie that interrupted my wedding was someone else I didn’t know. Nonetheless, I was still drawn to her, even though she should be none of my concern.
When Juliet and I said our vows and we walked out of the church, I had my bride on my arm, but I searched for Nathalie. When would the next time be I would see her? Was she returning to Georgia or staying at Belgrave?
But she was already gone.
If Étienne hadn’t stepped between us, would I have walked to her?
I didn’t have the answer to that question. I would like to say no. I’m married now, and Nathalie’s been married for several years. I will always love and care for her, but what chances we had at being together are gone.
As Juliet and I step into the dress shop, thoughts of Nathalie disappear. At once I feel ill at ease in my surroundings. The air is filled with multiple perfumes that I’m sure smell pleasant on their own but mingled together create a noxious scent.
Madame Bourgeois’ dress shop takes both levels of the building. Years ago, as Madame Bourgeois’ clientele grew, she had an escalator installed in the middle of the store. Momma was still unsure of the “inclined elevator.” She was convinced it would stop midway and nearly needed smelling salts once she took “the dreadful moving stairs.” Those were her exact words.
As we walk deeper into the dress shop, I see more colors, lace, bolts of fabric that I have ever seen in my entire life.
Pillars are scattered throughout the first floor, connecting to the ornate, coffered ceiling. I search for a place to sit, but all I see in the sea of dresses and fabrics are large plants peppered throughout the store.
“Oh, my,” Juliet breathes. “It’s beautiful in here.”
“I suppose,” I reply as I skeptically walk beside her. “If one is in the business of purchasin’ a dress, or women’s belongin’s.”
Juliet doesn’t hear my reply, she rushes toward the nearest dress-form mannequin and gently holds the material of a dress between her fingertips.
“May I help you?” a saleslady asks as she comes up to Juliet.
Immediately I take a step back and allow the two of them to talk. With my hands tucked in my pockets, I rock back on my heels and scan the vast store.
“Asa? I’m goin’ to the second floor. This saleslady here says she has the perfect dress for me.”
“All right. I’ll stay here.” I’m afraid if I drift any farther into this store, I’ll suffocate from the scent.
In a flurry, Juliet hurries toward the escalators with the saleslady, happily discussing whatever ladies discuss regarding clothing.
I watch my new wife. Not for the first time does the thought come inside my mind that she is a stark contrast to Nathalie. She has blonder hair, where Nat’s is so dark, you can only see glints of copper in the sunlight, but only if you’re looking very closely. Juliet is tall, almost as tall as me, and slender. The crown of Nat’s head barely reaches my shoulder, and while she’s lithe, I don’t feel as though I’m going to break her. I know all too well that she has curves in all the right places. When I stare much too intently at Juliet, something I can’t help but do with everyone, she immediately looks away. Nat looks right back at me, straight in the eyes. And then she’ll slowly smile. That smile always felt like an anchor for me.
Would it be rude if I waited for Juliet outside? Of course, it would. But I feel foolish being the only man in here. I look around and begin to turn toward the front doors when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“I still can’t believe you haven’t received your luggage.”
Is that Serene?
“The chances are remarkably slim I’ll ever receive them.”
My shoulders tense, and the hairs on my arms rise from the sound of that female voice. Discreetly, I itch the back of my neck and look over my shoulder.
Christ, it’s her.
I see Serene, Rainey and Nat across the dress shop. Serene and Rainey are looking at bolts of fabric while Nat examines the hats. All three of them are so heavily engrossed in the conversation; otherwise, they would see me staring at Nat.
At once, I look away and blindly stare at the dress in front of me while I strain to hear the trio’s conversation.
“What does she stand to gain by keepin’ your gowns? That’s what I care to know,” Rainey says.
Frowning, I lean my head ever so slightly in their direction. Who is she? What are they talking about?
I don’t have much interest prying into other people’s conversations. But I am so starved to know more about the current Nat steps away from me that if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.
“She gains the ability to say that I have no wardrobe. That’s what she gains,” Nat replies.
Her tone is serious, holding only a hint of the dry wit the Lacroixs are known for. But Nathalie was mostly noted for her smile and her exuberance. To hear the tone of her voice so … flat is surprising. I look at her from the corner of my eye.
She’s still as beautiful and put together as ever. Even though the naivety is gone from her eyes, the glint of determination remains. No matter what has happened to her, her morale will never be taken.
Her body tenses up, almost as though she can sense me staring. I nearly dive into a sea of dresses to maintain my anonymity. From here, Nat continues to try on hats in front of the mirror. Nat inspects her reflection before she moves on to the next hat. When she does, my eyes latch onto her glossy black hair. For quite some time, she had it cut short. It suited her small featu
res, but it’s grown out now to her shoulders. I like it far more than I should. My hands itch to bury themselves into the dark strands. She plucks another hat from the rack. This one a deep plum, with a massive feather on the side. It’s too ostentatious. Something my momma and her friends would wear, but for Nat, it would consume her.
Nat turns her head left, then right, before she plucks the hat off her head and places it back on the rack.
“Whatever you need, whether it be dresses, nightgowns, corsets, stockings, underwear, get it. Étienne said it is on him.”
Serene could have stopped at dresses and my imagination would have ran wild, but she gave it more than enough to build upon. I imagine Nat dressing for the day, slowly putting on each stocking, and then sitting straight as the laces of her corset are tightened. At the end of the day, she would remove the pins from her hair. It would tumble to her shoulders. She would drag her hands through her hair and sigh with relief because she hates it up and how the pins dig into her scalp. She would take off her clothes and all that smooth skin would be revealed as she changed into her nightgown.
“That’s kind of him,” Nat replies. “My funds are quite limited right now.”
My fantasies of Nathalie are placed on hold by those words. Why are Nathalie’s funds limited? What happened? Being a Lacroix, she had a substantial sum even before she married Oliver Claiborne, and I imagined when he passed, he bequeathed everything to her. That’s what I thought. I could be mistaken.
Is that why she came back home? For financial help from her family?
“I don’t understand why we can’t go to a department store and pick up everything you need,” Serene grumbles.
“Because there’s somethin’ to havin’ clothin’ custom made for you.” Rainey shakes her head. “You and instant gratification…” Her words veer off because she looks at me from the corner of her eye. Almost in passing. At once, her gaze moves right back to me. Rainey nudges Serene, and gestures toward me. Nat, who is in the process of trying on a new hat, turns toward her friends, curious at their sudden bout of silence. She turns my way. When she spots me, her lips part, and she freezes in place, holding the brim of the black felt hat with her fingertips.
