“Then she’ll never come, John.” Charlotte leaned into his embrace, grateful to have her burden lifted even for a moment. “As far as Eathen’s concerned, when we buried her mother, we might just as well have buried Tia right along with her.”
***
All through dinner, Charlotte kept thinking of her impending trip home. How could she spend Christmas in a house without Jessie? It just wouldn’t be the same. She put a hand over her glass of sherry as John lifted the decanter.
“Are you all right, Charlotte?” Martha dabbed each corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “You’ve been very quiet this evening.”
“Martha, I’m fine. Just a little preoccupied’s all.”
Martha glanced at her husband, noting a slight stain of juice from the ham on his white silk shirt. She dipped one end of her napkin into her glass of water and dabbed at the stain. Satisfied the shirt would be all right until it could be laundered, she went back to eating her dinner. “After dinner, I’m going to get everything ready to trim the tree.” She scooped up a forkful of cabbage, eyeing Charlotte as she placed the food into her mouth. “If you want you can help me.”
“Yes, I can do that.” Charlotte pushed her food around on her plate then pushed her plate away altogether.
Placing his knife and fork across the top of his plate, John wiped his mouth then dropped his napkin on the silver-rimed white china. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have some work I need to finish before it gets too late.” With a sheepish grin, he moved the fastener on his black tailored pants to a looser, more comfortable, position and picked up his cup of coffee to take it with him to the den.
“Let’s go into the parlor, Charlotte. I want to get started on those decorations.” Martha stood, waiting for Charlotte to push back her chair.
With a resigned sigh, Charlotte followed her sister from the room.
“I wish you would change your mind about leaving.” Martha removed a length of mauve velveteen ribbon from a box she had sitting on the couch. “In two days, it will be Christmas. I would think you would want to be here for your grandchild’s first Christmas, for goodness sake.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, Martha.” Charlotte picked up the other end of the ribbon, holding it in her hands as Martha unraveled it to its fullest length. “It’s just that Jessie always loved the holidays so much. I don’t think I’d be fit company, knowin’ she’ll never be here to enjoy them again.”
Martha turned the delicate-hued strand in the opposite direction of its natural flat lay, giving it a spiraled appearance. “Did you ever stop to think that this year she will be celebrating the true meaning of Christmas? This isn’t simply a day to receive presents.” She kept twisting the material until she had reached the end, averting her eyes from all the recently delivered parcels stacked in a neat pile beside the couch. “It’s the birthday of our Lord Jesus Christ,” she declared, her voice becoming stronger with her heart-felt convictions. “Jessie will be with the Holy Family and all the angels in heaven.”
“Martha, you don’t know how much I wanted to believe that the smile I saw on her face was real and not just my imagination.” A surge of pure joy shot through her body, making her tremble with its power. “You believe she’s in heaven too, don’t you?” Charlotte hugged her sister close and, in so doing, dropped her end of the ribbon. “You don’t know what a weight just knowin’ that lifts from my heart.”
“Well… of… course… I do.” Martha stammered, eyeing the unraveled ribbon; but then she looked away as the full realization of her sister’s words sank into her thoughts. Jessie’s death had not been an act of God, but an act brought about by Jessie’s own hand. And with her own words, she had sanctioned that act! Drawing a deep breath, she made ready to contradict herself, when she looked up to see the burning relief in Charlotte’s eyes. Swallowing hard against the niggling guilt brought about by her Catholic teachings against suicide, the unforgivable sin, she remained silent.
“Then I’ll stay.” Charlotte busied her hands with tucking her white cotton blouse into the waistband of her long blue skirt. “I’ll send a wire to Eathen first thing tomorrow, tellin’ him I’ve been delayed until after the holidays.”
“Do you think he’ll mind?” Martha bent over, retrieving the unraveled ribbon.
“No.” Charlotte bit her lip. “Not really.”
“Are things that bad between you and Eathen?” Martha laid the ribbon aside to walk over to the giant Blue Spruce standing before the floor-to-ceiling window. Being careful not to prick her fingers on the sharp needles, she pulled down on first one branch then another, until the tree had an even look all the way around.
“Yes, Martha, they are.” Charlotte picked up a box of Christmas bulbs, lifting away the lid as she followed behind Martha. “We’ve been driftin’ further apart for almost a year.”
“Because of Jessie?” Martha turned her attention from the tree to a subject she was quite interested in hearing about, the trouble going on between Charlotte and Eathen. Walking across the floor, she pushed the decorations to the far corner, swept the skirt of her long blue silk dress to one side to seat herself and patted the cushion beside her.
Charlotte made her way over to the couch. “To tell you the truth, now that I stop to think about it, what happened with Jessie may have given Eathen the excuse he’s been lookin’ for all along to go back to his old ways. He’s never been,” she stumbled over her words, “what you’d call…a man of high morals.”
“You mean to tell me,” Martha yanked Charlotte down beside her, “he’s cheated on you?”
Charlotte nodded, hating the shame welling up in her at Martha’s piteous gaze.
“Oh, Charlotte! You poor, poor dear.” She rubbed a hand up and down Charlotte’s back. “If John ever cheated on me, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“If you love him, I can tell you what you’d do. The same thing I do.” Charlotte turned, placing the box of Christmas bulbs with the rest of the decorations. “Close your eyes and pretend it doesn’t happen.”
“You love Eathen very much, don’t you?” Martha watched Charlotte’s face, gauging her feelings for a man that she herself would rather never lay eyes on again.
“With all my heart,” Charlotte replied. “If I didn’t, I woulda been gone long ago.”
“Well, all I can say is,” Martha moved off the couch, “it is a wise decision on your part to let us raise Tia. If your marriage is in this much trouble,” she righted a double strand of pearls surrounding her throat, “she’s far better off with a family who will always be together.”
“Don’t tempt fate, Martha. John’s a very, good-lookin’, successful man. There are a lotta women who’d settle for him without a marriage license.”
“My husband is a good and moral man, Charlotte Thornton!” Martha whirled on her. “Simply because you can’t keep your husband happy, doesn’t mean I can’t!”
“Let me give you some advice, Martha.” Charlotte ignored her sister’s childish dramatics. “I learned this from talkin’ to a woman who made her livin’ from those so- called good and moral men.” She settled herself back on the couch, propping her feet up on the ottoman. “One night, soon after we got married, Eathen didn’t come home. So I went into town lookin’ for him. I found him. Dead drunk, in a saloon, with a woman twice my age. I felt so mad, I wanted to kill him.” She swiped an agitated hand over the slight hike in her skirt, smoothing it down straight. “Her too, for that matter. Since I couldn’t get him out to the buckboard by myself, I tried pullin’ on him and cussin’ him, and she just jumped in and started helpin’ me. To make a long story short,” Charlotte fluttered one hand in dismissal, “by the time we got him laid out so I could take him home, we felt too tired to fight. So we did the next best thing,” she laughed, shaking her head at the memory, “we talked. She told me the reason most men are willin’ to pay a woman for her time ain’t just for the sex, but because she knows how to make him feel like he’s the greatest thing God eve
r put breath in.”
Martha stared at the woman seated beside her, then, tossing her blond head in anger, she declared, “That has got to be the dumbest theory I have ever heard in my life! John knows I love him.”
A derisive laugh shot from Charlotte’s lungs. “I’m sure he does, Martha! But, do you ever tell him how much you love him? When was the last time you told him how proud you are of him?” Charlotte cocked her head, eyeing the other woman.
”Why, I’m sure I’ve told him hundreds of times,” she plucked at the strand of white pearls. “Well, even if I haven’t, he knows it.”
“I advise you to make it a point of tellin’ him often.” Charlotte’s blue eyes stared her down. “I want Tia to have a happy home. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
***
The next two days passed in quick succession, and Charlotte welcomed their fast passage. She could already see the problems that lay ahead for her granddaughter.
“Just like Jessie,” she murmured. “Everything laid at her feet.”
“Did you say something, Charlotte?” Martha asked, coming into the parlor.
“Just thinkin’ out loud about all the presents you showered on a baby who couldn’t care less.”
“Oh that. Well,” Martha fluttered her hands, dismissing Charlotte’s objections, “I admit we may have gone a little overboard, but this is our first Christmas with our new daughter. Of course we don’t plan to spoil her like this every year.”
“I sure hope not,” Charlotte spoke up, refusing to be silent on the subject. “Otherwise, she’ll grow up thinkin’ the world’s hers to command. Eathen catered to Jessie’s every whim. Now she’s six-foot under the ground and I’m half-nuts! I don’t want the same thing happenin’ to Tia!”
“You don’t need to worry, Charlotte,” John spoke up, putting the small infant up to his shoulder. “I’ll see to it she is allowed just half this much next year.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that, John.” A slight smile softened her stern features as she watched the loving couple with her grandchild.
“We want you to feel free to come for a visit anytime, Charlotte.” John supported the baby’s wobbly head with one large hand. “Tia needs all of her family.”
“That’s true, she does, darling,” Martha agreed, taking Tia from his arms. “It’s just that that’s a very long trip to make too often. I’m sure Charlotte doesn’t plan to come more than once a year.”
“I’ve already signed the papers, Martha,” Charlotte told her, watching surprise then anger flit across her sister’s face in quick succession. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout losin’ her.”
“John!” Martha squealed, whirling to face her husband. “Why didn’t you tell me Charlotte signed the adoption papers?”
“He didn’t tell you,” Charlotte spoke up, “because they aren’t adoption papers, Martha. I just gave you and John permission to raise my granddaughter, not adopt her.”
“But…I thought…” Martha stammered, unable to collect her thoughts.
“You had it all planned out I would turn Tia over to you, lock, stock and barrel. Well,” Charlotte eyed her, “that ain’t gonna happen. Tia’s last name is to remain Thornton. I may not be able to take her back to Montana, but I refuse to give her away.”
For a time, no one spoke, allowing the tension in the room to become all but palpable. John winced at the shocked look covering Martha’s face as she stood looking at Charlotte as though her world had been ripped asunder. John walked over, taking his new family into his arms. “You have the daughter you’ve been longing for, darling. Accept Charlotte’s terms,” he murmured against her hair. “Simply because her name isn’t Sexton doesn’t mean she isn’t ours.”
Sniffing, Martha withdrew a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt to dry her eyes. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, Charlotte. I love Tia so much, I’ll agree to anything, if you’ll allow me to keep her.”
“All I ask is that you raise her up to be a fine lady,” Charlotte told her, her gaze refusing to waver. “One we can be proud of.”
“I promise, Charlotte.” Martha made her way across the room, a smile shining through her tears. Clutching the baby to her chest, she bent down, dropping a quick kiss on the top of Charlotte’s head.
Charlotte lifted Tia from her new mother’s arms. Holding the baby close, she told herself she had no choice in allowing Tia to be raised far away from Montana. But, even so, she knew that when the time came for her to return to Eathen, it would take every bit of discipline she possessed to leave Jessie’s child behind.
***
A light snow fell as the carriage made its way towards South Station. When they drew near, they could see the train already waited on the tracks.
“Looks like we made it just in time, Charlotte.” John peered through the small window.
“Yes. I guess it’s for the best. I never did like long goodbyes.” She allowed him to help her from the carriage.
Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Now, you’re sure all your tickets are in order and handy.”
“This is Charlotte you’re talkin’ to, John,” she gazed up at him, “not Martha.”
“Don’t begrudge me my worries, Charlotte,” he scolded her with fondness. “I hate the thought of you making this long trip again, all by yourself.”
“I’ll be all right.” She hugged him to her for a moment. “Thank you, John.” She stepped back, running a hand down the side of his face. “It’s good to know someone worries ‘bout me.”
Handing her up the steps of the passenger car, John felt his throat constrict with concern. Such a small woman to be braving everything alone.
After taking her seat, Charlotte wiped a small circle of grime away from the dirty window with her gloved hand. Looking out, she saw him waving to her. As she returned the farewell, she felt a deep sadness well up in her for the handsome man standing alone in the cold.
“I hope I’ve been able to make your life a little more tolerable, John,” she whispered, uncaring of the people watching her as they made their way down the narrow isle in search of a seat. “God knows you deserve it.”
Settled back in her seat, she felt the train lurch forward. Within moments, the city of her birth disappeared as the New York Central, its loud whistle blasting out a warning to both man and beast, made its way down the tracks. As the train picked up speed, she tried to close her mind to all that had happened since she arrived in Boston. The cruel pain cutting into her heart could not to be born alone. She would wait until this nightmare could be put behind her and she had the loving arms of Hattie wrapped around her, before allowing herself to face the awful truth.
Closing her eyes, she thought about home, as a feeling of longing so strong she felt her heart break rushed over her. In an effort to protect herself, her thoughts flew back to an earlier time, when a beautiful red-haired baby had first arrived in her world.
Chapter Five
Cut Bank, Montana, 1887
Bright streaks of lightning flashed across the dark Montana sky, followed by low rumblings of thunder far off in the distance. As the storm gathered strength, so did a small woman in the ranch house below.
The pains worsened. At first they seemed no more than a nagging bother, but as the first rays of dawn crept into the room, she could no longer ignore their presence. Pushing back the covers, she got to her feet, standing for a moment until a sudden wave of dizziness started to subside. As she reached for her robe lying across the foot of the bed, she felt a warm gush of liquid run down her legs to soak the small rug and plaster her nightdress to her already shivering body. With mounting fear, she made her way to the bedroom door to call out as loud as she could.
“Hattie! Hattie, help me. Oh god, please, help me.”
Unable to stay on her feet any longer, she felt herself sliding to the floor. As if in answer to her prayers, she heard the creaking of the floorboards as her housekeeper, dressed in a black and gray woolen robe, lumbered
down the hallway towards her.
“Fo’Gawd’s sake, Miz Charlotte, whut you doin’ layin’ on dat flo’? Come on now,” she grunted, reaching her ponderous arms around Charlotte’s waist to lift her to her feet. Feeling the wet nightgown, she breathed, “Land sakes, Miz Charlotte, you done soiled yo’seff.”
“The baby’s comin’, Hattie. I been havin’ pains off and on all night and just now when I came to get you, my water broke. You need to tell one of the hands to go get Doc Nebinger,” she panted as her stomach tightened, gearing up for another onslaught of pain.
“Sweet Jesus, Ah doan know what’s ter do.” She wrung her hands as she stared toward the bedroom window. “It’s blo’in an po’in sumpin’ awful outside. Ain’t nobody gwing ter goes fer de doctah in dis storm, Miz Charlotte.”
“Then we’re gonna have to deliver this baby on our own.” With Hattie’s help, she made her way towards the bed.
“Won’t be de first time fer dat. Ole Hattie’ll brings dis youngin’ in ter de world.” She lowered her deep voice to a more soothing tone, as she lifted the soiled gown up and over Charlotte’s head, before easing her into a sitting position on the bed. “Doan you worry none.”
“I know you’ll do just fine, Hattie. The thing worryin’ me is this baby’s a little early. I’m afraid somethin’ might go wrong.” She snuggled beneath the covers.
“Ain’t nuthin’ gwing gos wrong. Dat ole doctah jes figured wrong’s all. W’en de good Lawd sees fitin’ ter sends you a youngin’, dat’s w’en you sees fitin’ ter haves it. Now, you jes’ hesh, whilst Ah goes an’ gits things ready. Ah be back in a jiffy.”
Alone with the sounds of the raging storm and the wind beating against the shutters, Charlotte could feel her terror mounting. The oil lamp on the nightstand flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced and undulated across the bedroom walls, and calling to mind the stories she had listened to as a child. Chilling stories of witches dressed in black, stirring their fiery cauldrons and waiting to devour those unfortunate enough to be caught and thrown into their foul-smelling concoctions. She tried not to panic as she waited for Hattie’s return.
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