by Tina Mikals
Chapter 32
A Jealous Woman
After everyone had eaten a generous amount of beef stew at supper, Cora said, "The sword you brought home is beautiful, Mr. Carlisle, but you never told me where you got it."
"It was a present from Venus," said May.
"Who?"
"Venus. You know, the goddess."
Mrs. Carlisle stared at her husband. "The goddess?"
Looking up briefly from his second helping of stew, he nodded.
"And she knighted him, too," said Sheila. "I can't believe he didn't tell you."
Mrs. Carlisle pressed her hand to her ample bosom. "Frank, you were knighted?"
"Well, I'm not really sure it exactly counts," he said, dipping a thick slice of bread into his bowl.
"By Venus herself? I should say so. Of course it does. I can't imagine what it was like to meet a goddess. Why, whatever did she look like? Was she as beautiful as they say?"
"Oh absolutely," said May. "And her eyes were like, green, then blue, then gray, then ... well, they were just weird, only really, really beautiful as well. And she had long blond hair about Sheila's color, and I guess you could say she looked a little like Sheila only—well, I mean, she was a goddess and all."
Sheila looked insulted.
"Well, she is a goddess, Sheila. Anyhow, we accidentally visited her orchard and your husband here practically died from eating some poisoned fruit."
"P—poisoned?" said Mrs. Carlisle.
"But he was okay after he woke up," she added quickly.
"Indeed, I can see that," said Mrs. Carlisle, a bit white. "Pray continue."
"Anyhow, she wasn't upset about us eating the fruit, thank goodness, and then Mr. Carlisle here woke up after about a day or so and felt better, but then Sheila started losing her memory. I wanted to get going, but then Venus invited us to dinner, and I have to say that the food was the most delicious I've ever tasted in my entire life. Even Mr. Carlisle said so, didn't you Mr. Carlisle?"
Cora turned to her husband. "Indeed?"
"It was just a compliment, dear. I had to say something—to be polite, after all, since they seemed to have gone to so much trouble. You definitely could have taught those cooks a thing or two." He picked up the bread basket. Smiling, he held it across the table. "May, would you care for another slice?"
"No, I'm fine with this, thank you," she replied, holding up some bread.
"Please, May, do continue," said Mrs. Carlisle. "What was the dinner like, dear?"
"Course after course, ma'am. And every one served by a different handmaiden who smelled like something delicious."
"Indeed," said Mrs. Carlisle, recovering some of her former color.
"Oh yes. One smelled like cantaloupe and another like cinnamon buns and ... what else? What else? Oh, ginger and ..." She frowned. "Do you remember any others, Sheila?"
"Um ... well, not really. My memory is still kind of in and out from around then."
"They must have been dressed very prettily as well," said Mrs. Carlisle, brushing crumbs off her blue wool skirt.
"Oh yes, in beautiful silky gowns of all different colors." May snorted. "And practically see-through. All of them were disgustingly beautiful. In fact, everyone there was disgustingly beautiful."
"Indeed?"
"And none of them could hold a candle to you, dear," said Carlisle to his wife. He held up the bread basket again. "Are you sure you don't want any more bread, May?"
"Yes. I'm fine, thank you, I said."
He put down the basket on the table and a slice of bread bounced out.
Mrs. Carlisle gave her husband a quick smile and asked him, "And so did she give you the sword after dinner, dear? Venus, I mean."
"She gave it to him the next morning," said May, concentrating on sliding a questionable carrot to the side of her bowl. "When Venus handed him back his wedding ring and his tie."
Carlisle pushed his stew away. He took the bottle of wine off the table and uncorked it with a loud popping noise.
Cora raised an eyebrow at her bowl and put down her spoon. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
"Cora—" began her husband delicately.
"No really, dear," she said, putting up her hand, but not looking at him. "I am quite interested in what the lass has to say. Please continue, May."
"May?" cautioned Sheila.
May blinked into her bowl then looked up at Mrs. Carlisle who was staring at her and waiting. May laughed loudly. "Well that sounded bad, didn't it? I mean—it's just that after he was poisoned and he was sleeping, the handmaidens took all his clothes off to wash them, only his tie and wedding ring were in his pocket and—"
"H—handmaidens?" choked out Mrs. Carlisle.
Carlisle collapsed his head into his hands.
Cora gave him a hurt look. "Your wedding band was in your pocket?"
He peeked out from under his hands and slowly met his wife's gaze. "I thought—it's just that—" He winced. "Well, you were—you know—here. And it brought me no end of grief looking at it." He swallowed then he shook his head. "Cora, I'm sorry. I swear I only just took it off last week."
"Oh, is it so? Well that's different then. I suppose I should thank you for at least waitin' 'till I was cold."
Carlisle rubbed his hands down his face, reached for the wine bottle and poured himself a glass.
"And so what exactly was the sword for anyway, dear?" asked Cora pointedly at May.
"Good God," exclaimed Carlisle, staring at the glass in his hand with a look of abject disgust. "This is worse than the castle. Is this the wine we usually have?"
Cora regarded her husband coldly. "And how should I know, Mr. Carlisle? When you know I never touch the stuff." She said to May, "Pray continue, dear."
May looked over warily at Carlisle.
"Oh, yes. Why not, May? By all means," said Carlisle.
"Why was Mr. Carlisle knighted? Don't you usually have to do something important for that sort of thing?" asked Cora.
May felt she was wired to a bomb and not entirely sure of the detonation point. She said in a small voice, "I think it was for ... bravery, ma'am."
"Bravery," said Mrs. Carlisle. Then as the impact of the information hit her, she repeated, "Bravery?" With a worried glance at her husband, she said, "How so?"
"Not really bravery, dear. Nothing to—"
"No, really," May interrupted helpfully. "He's just being humble. He fought off this big ugly pirate—"
"He fought a pirate?" interrupted Mrs. Carlisle.
"Yes, ma'am, on the pirate ship."
"Pirate ship? Indeed. A fight, Mr. Carlisle?"
"Well, I didn't exactly start it," he grumbled.
"Do you ever? And didn't I think you would have learnt your lesson after you got your nose broke last time. You know you always end up on the worst end of things with never a thought to how many you're up against—"
"But Cora, it wasn't like that—"
"Oh, no ma'am," interrupted May. "It wasn't that kind of fight. Not a fistfight—a sword fight!"
"A sword fight?" Cora shook her head with her mouth open in disbelief. She cried to her husband, "You promised me. You promised me you would never—"
"I know, dear," he said. "But I didn't have a choice."
"Honest, Aunt Cora, it wasn't his fault," said Sheila. "The pirates were holding us hostage. Me and May were so frightened. They were horrible men."
"And he didn't end up badly at all," said May with her eyes gleaming. "He did great. If the captain hadn't interrupted, he would've killed the guy."
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," breathed out Mrs. Carlisle, crossing herself in a blur.
May blinked several times and looked over at Carlisle.
"Mrs. Carlisle, you weren't there," said her husband firmly. "If I could have done it any differently, believe me, I would have."
"But you almost—"
"Almost, Mrs. Carlisle, and I didn't. So can we let it rest? At the very least, can we discuss this all lat
er?"
His wife pursed her lips. "Fine."
The hush that followed was as cool and thick as the stew in their bowls.
Several minutes went by before Cora interrupted the strained silence. "Mr. Carlisle?"
Good God. Isn't she done yet? thought May, ready to crawl away.
"Yes?" her husband answered, closing his eyes.
"Sheila tells me that the estate didn't stay in the family. That it was auctioned? I thought we had agreed that should anything happen, it should go to my sister and your brother."
"I know we did."
"I made an appointment with the lawyer before I—well, you know."
"Did you, dear?"
"Yes, dear. After you forgot about the first two I made. You did keep the appointment this time, didn't you?"
He implored her in a hushed tone, "Cora, can we discuss this another time? Please?"
"It's a simple question, Mr. Carlisle. Just a yes or no will do."
"Well, that period of time is a little ... " he searched for a word.
"Fuzzy?" offered Sheila.
He pointed to her. "Yes, fuzzy. It was just after you—you know—and the appointment—well, dear, as you can imagine—it was the last thing on my mind."
"I see. So, you're saying that you did indeed miss the appointment, then?" clarified Cora.
"I recall someone coming to the house to say they'd rescheduled it but ..."
"But ...?"
"Well, before I could keep the appointment—well, May here thinks I fell into—"
"Now you'll be dragging the girl into it?"
"No really," said May, "I think he's saying that he missed the appointment because he fell into his painting when the casement of the window blew in and hit him on the head."
"The casement of the—? Not the window I was after you to fix for ages? Fell into your painting, indeed! You didn't, by chance, happen to fall out the window, did you?"
Carlisle had the look of someone trying hard to remember something important.
Cora eyes went wide as her hands shot to her face. "Oh no. You didn't—you didn't … jump?"
"No, no, Cora. Not that. I swear I didn't, though I won't deny, but it crossed my mind."
Cora looked thankfully to the heavens. Then another thought occurred to her. "Frank? Were you ...?" She glanced at the bottle on the table.
"Can we just please discuss this all later?" he yelled. He stood, and grabbing the bottle of wine, he headed for the door of the kitchen with it, then stopped suddenly. He looked up at the ceiling, turn around and put the bottle back down on the table with a loud thud.
"I'm sorry," he said softly to them. As he walked out the door he called over his shoulder, "I'll be in my studio."
"Indeed," said his wife. "And what else should I expect? It's as much as ye always do. By the way, I think ya forgot somethin' this time."
"Come on, Rufus," said Carlisle sulkily from the other room. The dog's nails click-clacked across the floor, then they heard the double doors in the living room close.
May and Sheila stared at their cold empty bowls.
Mrs. Carlisle glared into hers.
"Why don't you let us help you clean up, Aunt Cora," said Sheila, getting to her feet with her spoon and bowl in her hand.
The double doors banged open in the living room, and a second later, Carlisle appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.
They all looked at him in surprise.
"You know what, Cora?" he said. "The whole time I was eating that fancy dinner, I kept thinkin' how all I really wanted was to be back here with you over a simple bowl of stew in this ridiculously small kitchen. And for the life of me, could you please remind me why? Because right now, I just can't remember. I'm sorry I forgot about the appointment. You know how I am. Haven't we been together long enough for you to know me by now?" He gave her an incredulous look. "And, believe me, Cora, if I could've changed, I would've long ago just to make you happy—God! Even just to make you shut up! You're a lovely woman, Cora. There's just sometimes I wish you'd tell that to your tongue."
"Frank!"
"Now, I've traveled a great long way to see you, and I take it very ill—very ill—you doing this to me, and in front of the girls—our guests, as well. If you want me at all, I'll be in my studio. But don't even bother to knock unless there's a word of apology on your lips."
"Indeed?"
"Indeed," her husband replied.
Then he left.
"Well," hissed out Cora, red in the face, "on my—"
Carlisle reappeared suddenly in the doorway and pointed at his wife. "And another thing—keep the rose oil out of the soap. Don't think I don't know why you do it; I'm not that stupid. A man shouldn't have to go around smelling like—" He looked down at himself with his hands out, "—like flowers. It's embarrassing."
"Indeed."
"Indeed!" He pointed his finger again at her. "Or I simply won't wash at all, and if you don't like the smell o' me, you can go out and play with your damned roses for the rest of eternity."
They heard his long steps rap across the parlor floor, and then the double doors to the studio slammed shut.
They listened in silence for a minute only this time the doors didn't reopen.
"On my heart and soul," raged Cora. "How do ye like that? Eleven years with the man and not so much as once has he—" She turned on May and Sheila. "What on God's green earth did you do to him?"
"Nothing. What does he usually do?" asked May.
"Usually?" said Cora, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Says nothin', then closes himself up tighter than a drum in that studio of his and sulks for days on end."
Cora got up and began scraping the contents of one bowl into another. "I don't need you to help," she said shortly. "I'll get the cleanin' up; it helps me to think."
Sheila and May didn't need any more prompting to head for the door. On their way out of the kitchen, they heard Mrs. Carlisle say to herself, "An apology indeed. When this place freezes over!" And then again, after a clattering of pottery, they heard Cora give out one final, "Indeed!"
