“Eathen could buy and sell us, Martha. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be crass, John. Eathen Thornton is not above us by any means! At least our money is made through honest endeavors. From all the stories I’ve heard about Eathen, I doubt he could say the same.”
“Nor would he,” John chuckled.
The loud blast from the train’s whistle announced its long-awaited arrival.
“Finally!” Martha turned to watch the New York Central as it made its way up the tracks.
The couple inched their way towards the passenger cars, taking care to stay far enough back so as to avoid the sudden bursts of steam shooting out from the sides of the engine and the ever-present soot billowing from the smokestack, as the train braked to a stop.
They watched as, one by one, the passengers left the train. Finally, John pointed. “There’s Charlotte, but I don’t see Eathen.”
“Oh!” Martha craned her neck to see into the crowd. “I hope he didn’t let her come alone.”
“It looks as though he did.” John took Martha’s arm, ushering her forward.
As they waited, a petite woman, short in stature and dressed in a long navy-blue wool coat with a lighter colored hat of the same material, stepped off the train to meet them.
“Charlotte!” Martha waved her gloved-hands in the air. “Oh, my dear!” Martha ran forward to wrap the frail woman in her arms.
“Martha, it’s good to see you.” Charlotte allowed herself to be hugged and made over. Spying John standing off to one side, she nodded.
“I’m glad to see you made it all right.” John stepped forward, feeling ill at ease.
“My dear!” Martha said, releasing the tiny woman. “Where in the world is Eathen? Didn’t he come with you?”
John cleared his throat. “I’m sure Charlotte will tell us everything later, Martha. Right now, we need to get her home where she can rest.”
“Thank you, John.” Charlotte leaned forward and, standing on her tiptoes, placed a light kiss on the side of his clean-shaven cheek. The scent of his cologne lingered on her face as she released him. “I would appreciate that.”
During the long ride back to the estate, Charlotte remained quiet. The gentle sway of the horse-drawn carriage almost lulled her to sleep. As they pulled up in front of the mansion, Charlotte felt her pulse quicken. In silence, she prayed for the strength she would need to look upon the face of her child. A blast of Arctic air blew inside as soon as John opened the carriage door, its chill hitting her full force. For a crazed moment, she wished for the courage to strip every garment from her small frame and allow the freezing wind to numb her entire being. Instead, she accepted the gloved hand John offered her.
“Why don’t you two go ahead inside? I’ll help Franklin with the luggage.” John steadied Martha as she stepped from the carriage. He wanted to forestall the sad scene as long as possible.
“Yes, come along, Charlotte.” Martha wrapped an arm around her sister’s trim waist. Forcing herself to move, Charlotte allowed Martha to guide her up the long walkway leading to the front door.
In her weakened state of mind, Charlotte could feel herself slipping back into the all-too-familiar habit of allowing Martha to dominate the situation. As far back as Charlotte could remember, it had been Martha their parents had listened to and believed when a sibling rivalry occurred. In most cases because Martha was the oldest, but also because Martha had a gift for making people feel guilty if she didn’t get her way.
“I could just thrash Eathen for letting you go through this alone.” Martha reached up, pushing the heavy hood off her head. “I’ll never forgive him, Charlotte. I mean it! I’ll never forgive him!”
“Please,” Charlotte whispered, her voice catching on a sob, “could we not talk about this just now?”
“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry.” Martha stopped, waiting as Charlotte wiped her eyes on a thick handkerchief she drew from her pocketbook. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Now,” she said, as Charlotte seemed in better control of her emotions, “just as soon as we get inside, I’ll let you hold your new granddaughter. That will make you feel better.”
“Martha, please,” her steps faltered, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but first I want to see Jessie, while I still have the strength to do so.”
“Well…of…course. I just thought you would be anxious to see the baby.”
“I’m very anxious to see her, but you’re going to have to let me do this my way, Martha.”
“You do everything just the way you want, Charlotte,” John comforted, appearing at her side and placing a gentle hand beneath her elbow. “We’re here to support you.”
“Thank you, John.” Charlotte gave him a grateful smile. “Again.”
Nodding, he guided the two women the rest of the way inside.
“Charlotte, I know you want to get this over with as soon as possible, but would you mind indulging me with your company for a few moments? I’d like to relax with a glass of brandy before the fire. I got a little chilled standing out on that platform.”
“I think a glass of brandy would be very nice right now, John.” Charlotte nodded, as he slipped the weighty coat from her shoulders.
“Martha,” he reached out as she turned her back to him, waiting for him to unburden her of the thick tweed coat, “would you like to join us?”
“No thank you.” She pulled the leather gloves from her hands, cramming them into the pockets of her coat before John could move away. “I want to check on the baby first. You two go ahead. I won’t be long.”
Seated before the crackling fire, with the warmth of John’s best brandy beginning to relax her, Charlotte leaned her head back against the soft cushions. Within moments, she fell off to sleep. Taking the empty glass from her hand, John lifted her legs onto the couch and pulled the afghan from off the back to cover her.
***
Later, when Martha walked into the room, she felt surprised to see Charlotte asleep on the couch.
“Did she already go in to see Jessie?”
“No. Not yet. I thought she could do with some rest first.”
“Can you believe the nerve of Eathen, letting her come all the way out here alone, bereaved as she is?”
Motioning her to silence, John walked with her from the room. Closing the door to his den, he turned, as Martha sat down in a chair beside his desk.
“Martha, don’t pressure Charlotte with questions about Eathen right now. If she wants us to know, she’ll tell us.”
“John, for goodness sake,” she cried in self-defense, “I wanted to find out why the man is being so insensitive.”
“Charlotte has enough to handle without us giving her more,” John told her. The no-nonsense tone in his voice warned her against any argument. “We are here to support her, Martha. Not add to her problems.”
***
For a moment, Charlotte couldn’t remember where she was, and then it came to her. Sitting up, she looked around, trying to clear her tired mind. Drawing the beautiful afghan from off her lap, she folded it to lay it aside. Getting to her feet, she smoothed the straying wisps of gray-streaked auburn hair back into the tight braid curled atop her head as best she could. Then, taking a deep breath, she called out, “Martha, where are you?”
At the sound of her sister’s voice calling to her, Martha came into the room. “You’re awake. I hope that little nap made you feel better.”
“Yes, I think I got my second wind,” she allowed. “Now, I’m ready to see Jessie. Will you show me where she is?”
“Of course, dear. I’ll stay right by your side.”
“Thank you, Martha, but I need to do this alone.”
“Very well.” She turned Charlotte in the direction of the long hallway. “I’ll take you to the room we’ve prepared for her.”
When Martha stopped outside a closed door, Charlotte could feel a strange sensation creep over her. Within moments, she felt light-headed and her legs felt as though they had turned to
liquid. She tried to will her trembling hand to open the door.
“My Jesus Lord,” she covered her mouth with her hand, “please stay close to me.”
Turning the knob, Martha pushed the door ajar, then stood back. “I’ll be right out here if you need me, Charlotte.”
Nodding, Charlotte pushed the door the rest of the way open. The overpowering stench of flowers filled her senses. The sickening aroma made her stomach tighten with distaste. Placing one foot in front of the other, she forced herself to move forward, focusing her attention all the while on the small, elaborate casket placed in the center of the room. So many flowers surrounded the casket only just the top half proved visible. Before she knew it, she stood looking down on the face of her beloved child.
She felt her heart constrict and, for a moment, everything in the room seemed to go out of focus. Taking hold of the casket, her fingers bit into the soft satin lining. The satin felt cool to the touch, and her mind recoiled against the thought of Jessie lying at rest in something so cold. Knowing this to be the one chance she would ever have to tell her daughter goodbye, Charlotte forced herself to take deep breaths until she, at last, felt some calmness return. “Forgive me, Jessie.” The tears she had been unable to shed now streamed unhindered down her face. “We thought we were right by sendin’ you away.” Each word she spoke stabbed like a cruel knife, slashing without mercy into an already open wound. “We couldn’t have been more wrong.”
With a shaking hand, she touched the still face. “I pray you’re safe in the lovin’ arms of Jesus, my Jessie.” She forced herself not to flinch and pull back her hand as she felt the coldness, like icy marble, against her skin. “God knows what heartache you suffered to make you leave us like you did. I trust He won’t hold it against you.” With all the love in a mother’s heart, she patted the face of her child. “You…just…rest… now…, Jessie… and I promise you everything’s gonna be all right.”
She looked down into Jessie’s cold, still face and, without warning, the small face moved. But as Charlotte wiped away her tears, Jessie’s face came back into focus, and she knew it to be the tears of a grieving mother that had led her to see what wasn’t there.
With a heavy heart she turned away, unable to stay there any longer.
“Are you all right, Charlotte?” Martha whispered, wrapping a firm arm around her.
“Yes, Martha,” she said, breathing a shaky breath. “Now I’m ready to see my granddaughter. Would you bring her to me, please? I’ll be in the parlor.”
“I’ll go get her right now.”
Seated before the warm fire, Charlotte tried to gain control over her emotions as she waited.
“Charlotte.”
Charlotte looked up and her dark blue eyes widened as she spied the tiny bundle her sister held out to her. With her heart already aching, she reached out, taking the baby into her arms. Her eyes stung with fresh tears as she looked down into the face of Jessie’s child.
“Her name is Tia,” Martha volunteered the information. “Jessie told me it is the name Two Spirits picked out for her.”
At the mention of the baby’s father, Charlotte glanced up. “Jessie told you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, Charlotte, she did. I can understand Eathen being so upset. But you don’t have to worry about anyone else finding out. John and I are prepared to give Tia a life here with us as our daughter.”
The child looked so much like her father that Charlotte felt her anger at the man she held responsible for destroying her daughter’s world leap to new life. Tia opened her eyes, seemingly content with the stranger holding her. Within moments, Charlotte was captivated.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Charlotte bent down, kissing the round little cheek.
Contented, the child stretched. Then closing her big, dark eyes, she went back to sleep, assured of her safety in the loving arms of her grandmother.
“I love her already.” Charlotte rocked the infant. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave her behind when I go.”
In an instant, Martha sprang to her feet. “Eathen would never allow you to take her back with you. He could never stand the shame of having everyone know about Jessie having slept with an Indian. I mean…just look at her!” Martha flung a hand in the baby’s direction. “Anyone in Montana could see, just at a glance, who fathered her.”
“I know,” she whispered on a long breath, “but she feels so good in my arms. It’s almost like she fills the emptiness Jessie left in my heart.”
“I know, dear. I know.” Martha forced her racing heart to settle back to an even beat then leaned over to place a comforting arm around Charlotte’s small shoulders. “We have to think of the child now. If you take her back to Montana, she will be an outcast. I know you don’t want that, now, do you?”
“No, Martha. I could never do that to Tia. I want her to have the best life possible.”
“Of course you do. John and I can give her everything she could ever want, Charlotte.” She ignored the warning look John directed her way. “If you will let us adopt her, I promise you, you’ll never regret your decision.”
“I’ll have to think about it, Martha. Right now, I’m under too much pressure to make a sound decision. But I give you my word, before I leave, I’ll let you know what I’ve decided.”
***
That night, as she lay awake waiting for John to come to bed, Martha thought about what she could do to push Charlotte into making the right decision. The right decision of course being that she and John would adopt Tia. Folding back the covers, she got to her feet. She picked up her white satin robe from the chair by the bed. Without hesitation, she pushed her arms through the sleeves, tying the belt around her waist, and then she slipped her feet into the matching slippers lined up beside the bed. Being quiet, she opened the door to peer into the hall and, seeing no one there, she proceeded on her way to the nursery.
Her feet made no noise as she made her way down the wide hallway. She stopped for a brief moment to right a picture – one of many hanging on the walls on both sides of the long hall. Most of the pictures were of relatives long since passed, but a few were of her and John, taken soon after their wedding.
“There should be pictures of children hanging here.” She traced her fingers over the empty frames she had insisted be hung with the others. “John’s and my children.” Martha continued on her way down the hall to stop outside a halfway opened door. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, she walked inside to stand for a moment, allowing the smells of baby powder and baby oil to fill her senses.
She felt giddy as she walked over to look down at the sleeping infant. “If only you knew how long I’ve waited for you, Tia.” Martha pulled the soft blanket up around the small shoulders. The light from the gas lamp cast a pale glow over the room. With the tips of her fingers, she touched the black hair falling over the neck of Tia’s pale pink gown, noting how the child’s dark color contrasted with the pastel-colored night wear. “I can’t allow Charlotte to take you back to Montana where you will be an outcast. It isn’t your fault your father is an Indian.” She drew her hand away from the baby to bring it up to her mouth, pressing it there to stifle a sob. “She can’t take you away from me, Tia, she just can’t!”
Unable to stay any longer, Charlotte backed out of the doorway, telling herself the scene she had just witnessed would have no bearing on her decision of what to do about Tia. At her bedroom door, she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she wanted to go back to the nursery and talk to Martha or let well enough alone. Finally she pushed open her door and walked inside, pulling the door closed behind her. Reaching up, she turned down the gas lamp until a soft glow filled the room. “If I didn’t think I’d run into John or Martha, I’d go downstairs and fix me a drink.” She pulled back the coverlets on the bed then plumped the down-filled pillows. “But knowin’ Martha, she’d think I made a habit of drinkin’ myself to sleep and I’d never hear the end of it.”
At last s
he stretched her body out straight on the bed, not bothering to turn off the gas lamp. For long moments she lay there, willing herself to fall asleep; but instead she found her eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day,” she reminded herself, turning onto her side. “If I’m gonna get through it, I’ve got to go to sleep.” Her tired eyes gazed at the still curtain until she realized what was wrong.
“Well, no wonder I can’t sleep.” She got out of bed and, going to the window, pulled up on the small handle. In an instant, the chilled night air filled the room. “A person can’t sleep with no air.” Back in bed, she continued to toss and turn. “I guess I’ve run outta excuses,” she whispered, turning her face into the pillow and giving in to her fear, pain and aching need.
“I wish you knew how much I need you right now, Eathen.” She tried to gain control of her emotions. “I don’t know if I can make this decision about Tia alone.” She rummaged on the nightstand for her handkerchief and, finding it, blew her nose. “Why can’t you accept the last part of Jessie still here for us? If I thought you wouldn’t send me right back with her, I’d bring Tia home with me.” She shook her head. “But you’d have no part of her.” Charlotte pushed herself upright in the big bed. “You’d take one look at her, and all your memories of Two Spirits would come rushin’ back.”
At the thought of the man responsible for her pain, she threw back the covers and pulled on her robe. “John and Martha are just gonna have to understand if they’re still up, but I gotta have something to help me get through this night.”
With that, she made her way out of the room and down the stairs. As she walked past the room where Jessie lay in death, she stopped. Then, shaking her head, she continued on her way to the parlor.
Taking down a tall glass, she filled it part way with ice, and then poured a liberal amount of John’s best whiskey from the decanter. “Here’s to you, Eathen,” she lifted the glass to her lips, “and all your help.” She drained the glass then set it down on the small table. “If nothin’ else, at least you’ve made it easier for me to make a decision.”
Fated Memories Page 4
