"I miss them so much," Charlotte cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Especially Luc, my brother...he's my best friend...he's the only..."
"Oh I know, dear," Helen murmured, clasping Charlotte tighter. "I know how brothers are. They're like a part of you, aren't they?" Charlotte just managed to nod as she tried to wipe her face clean.
"Is there anything we can do for you?" Lewis asked concernedly. "Anything we can do to make you feel any better?"
Charlotte shook her head again. "You're already doing so much," she cried.
"How about this," Helen proposed, brushing a loose strand of hair from Charlotte's face. "How about we go on a bit of an outing tomorrow, just you and me? We can take a shopping trip in the city, have lunch together..." Helen looked very solemnly at Charlotte. "Charlotte, I know I'm not your mother and I could never replace her, but I'd really love for us to have a relationship. I've always wished for a daughter, and Lewis has, too. I'd so love to have this relationship with you."
It now dawned upon Charlotte. She now realized that this was the true reason for the fashionable clothes, the glamorous room, the elaborate dinner...Helen had wanted a daughter of her own, to spoil and dote upon. But compared to what Charlotte was used to back home-spending countless nights alone, reading herself to sleep while her mother performed night after night, hardly casting a glance at her daughter when she finally returned home-maybe pretending to be Helen Carey's daughter for a while wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it seemed to be what Charlotte had always wished for, what she'd always dreamed of on the nights when she'd cry herself to sleep.
"That sounds wonderful, Helen," Charlotte replied truthfully, smiling.
"Is there anything else we can do for you?" Lewis asked again. Charlotte imagined he could have been a wonderful father for someone. She wondered why the Careys had never had children, while her own parents had. The Careys seemed so much more parental than Charlotte's parents ever had been. "Anything we can do to make you feel more at home? We do want this to be like your home, Charlotte."
"My cat, perhaps?" Charlotte asked hopefully. "Could I keep him? I brought him from France. My parents thought he might make me feel more at home here. He's good and sweet, I promise! I know everyone seems to have the superstition about black cats, but-"
"Actually, black cats are meant to be very good luck around these parts," Lewis told her with a smile.
"Lewis has always wanted a pet, but we never had the time to train one," Helen said. "Your lucky cat is probably a blessing in disguise for our family. Of course you can keep him."
Charlotte grinned and began to eat her dinner, feeling lighter than she had in years. For once, everything seemed to be as she had always dreamed it, as if straight out of a book...
After a lovely dinner with the Careys, with more conversation than Charlotte and her own family usually had, she happily made her way back to her room. But something caught her attention as she walked down the hallway-a half-open door, streaming with light.
Charlotte had never been one to curb her curiosity. Without even a glance around, she opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a library, so wonderful that it took her breath away. It was probably the biggest one she had ever seen, apart from the one back at school. Charlotte couldn't conceal her grin as she turned in circles, looking up at each and every shelf. She could only imagine what stories these shelves held.
"I see you've found my hideaway."
Charlotte gasped and turned in surprise. Lewis stood in the doorway.
"I-I'm sorry," Charlotte stammered.
"Don't be," Lewis told her, walking forward with his hands in his pockets. He was taller than Charlotte had thought, and leaner. He looked around at the library, smiling, then said to Charlotte, "These books are my most prized possessions. Apart from my wife, of course," he added with a grin and a wink. "I'm a playwright, if you didn't already know, Charlotte. I always loved to read from a very young age. Books were my companions. Books are special," he continued, a glorious look passing over his face. "They can take you to places you've only dreamed of, introduce you to people you're idolized your whole life, and take you on adventures of a lifetime. All without leaving your seat."
"I love books," Charlotte told him. She ran her fingers over the spines of a few on a nearby shelf, admiring them. "I used to read all the time back home. There wasn't much else to do, except for schoolwork and listening to my mother complain. It wasn't a very exciting life."
Lewis smiled at her candor. "Well let's see what we can do about that," he said, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He mounted a ladder that reached to the highest books and began to pull them off their shelves.
"I think some Shakespeare would be beneficial to you, seeing as you're the daughter of a Shakespearean actress," Lewis said, accumulating a stack already. "Mark Twain and Oscar Wilde are wonderful reads. And how about some Victor Hugo for our little French-girl? Surely you've read him before? Ah, and perhaps some childhood favorites-did you enjoy Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan?"
"Yes, both!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Peter Pan was always mine and Luc's favorite! We used to spend hours and hours pretending to be Peter and Wendy!" She blushed a bit after divulging this childish antic. "I suppose playing characters runs in the family."
"I'm counting on it," Lewis said. He smiled and handed Charlotte the stack of books. "Here you are. These should keep you occupied for a while."
Charlotte's eyes widened. "Do you mean..."
"Take them back to your room. Take your time with them and give them back when you've finished. I know most of them by heart now, anyway."
Charlotte looked up at Lewis admiringly. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Lewis replied with a smile and tousled Charlotte's hair. "I'm glad to share my collection with another avid reader. But you should be getting to bed. You've had a long day."
"Yes," Charlotte nodded. She could hardly believe that only earlier that day she had been standing in her bedroom back in France. She looked up at Lewis one last time. "Thank you, Lewis. For everything." She gave him a quick grin before running upstairs to her bedroom.
Shutting the door behind her, Charlotte excitedly ran to her bookcase and carefully arranged her new selection, admiring each and every one. Anxious to begin reading, Charlotte shed her evening dress and stepped into the new linen pajamas that Helen had bought for her. They felt as smooth as silk against her skin. Finally, she grabbed Lewis' copy of Romeo and Juliet and curled up on her window-seat, cracking open the pages. She smiled when she noticed a sweet dedication written on the inside cover in elegant script.
To my dearest Helen, the love of my life, on your opening night as Juliet:
May you steal the audience's hearts, just as you've stolen mine.
With all my love forever,
Lewis
Charlotte grinned at the sweet message and leaned back against the window frame with a sigh. If only she could someday have a love just like Lewis and Helen's-still so sweet after so many years together-then she would die happy. But where could she possibly find someone as wonderful as Lewis was? One thing was for certain, Charlotte decided as she flipped to the opening pages of her book-she did not want to end up like her own mother and father. No matter how passionate their love had supposedly been when they met, it had certainly withered and died over the years. For as many times as Charlotte had seen her father glance at her mother lovingly over the dinner table or after she returned home late at night, she had never seen her mother return the affections.
Charlotte tried to shake these thoughts from her mind as she began to read the first lines of her book, but noises outside distracted her from her reading. Peering out the window, Charlotte saw a shiny black car pull up to the curb, stock full of unruly boys. They must have been drinking, she thought sourly, remembering the boys from her class in France who would sneak drinks for fun and think they were wise for it. Charlotte scoffed as the boys in the car gabbe
d and laughed for a few minutes before one of the young men finally stumbled out of the far and said goodbye to the others. Charlotte tried to get a look at him, but all she could see was that he had dark hair and a lean frame, as well as a wide smile. She took a drag from the cigarette hanging out of his mouth and waved to the other boys. And then, surprisingly, he turned and walked through the front doors of the Careys' house.
Charlotte frowned and sat back on the window-seat. Was there another manservant at the house? Mrs. Gates had said Topher had been the only one. And anyway, there couldn't be any reason why the Careys would employ a drunk in their household. So who was this mysterious young man who lived with the Careys?
Charlotte left the window and turned on her bedside lamp. She curled up under the covers of her bed with her book, preparing to read herself to sleep as she had for so many nights back home. But unlike at home, she was going to sleep with a smile on her face, reading the glorious words of Shakespeare, and wondering about the strange boy who would be living with her.
Charlotte could barely give herself the motivation to wake the next morning, even though sunlight was streaming through the windows. Her bed just felt too warm and cozy. Besides, she thought to herself as she buried herself even further under the covers, the moment I go downstairs, Mother will just start bothering me about one thing or another...
Charlotte suddenly sat up in bed. Mother isn't here, she remembered, everything flooding back to her now. Her mother wasn't there, not to ridicule her or to boss her around or tell her what a miserable child she was being. As much as Charlotte already missed her home and Luc, she was relieved to be away from all of that.
And best of all, Helen had planned an outing for the pair of them! Charlotte grinned and threw off the covers, running to get dressed. It had been years and years since her own mother had even taken her for a girls' day out. In fact, the last time Charlotte had been on a shopping trip with adult it had been with her school friend Jacqueline and Jacque's mother. But it still hadn't felt right. Charlotte had felt like the third wheel of the trip. But today, she decided as she slipped a pastel-striped dress over her shoulders, today would be wonderful. Helen was so intent on having a relationship with Charlotte, and Charlotte was going to make sure she enjoyed it immensely. She nearly skipped down the stairs to the dining room, fantasizing about what the dream would be like...
"Oh, there you are, Charlotte!" Helen said with a beaming smile. She stood at the dining room table, hurriedly stuffing papers into her bag. "Good morning. I hope you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you. My bed is so comfortable!" Charlotte told her with a grateful smile.
"Wonderful! I do love my feather bed, as well," Helen grinned. She snapped her bag shut and put on her hat. "Now, I'm so sorry darling. I know I promised we'd have a girls' outing today, but I'm afraid I've been called to the theatre early for some extra rehearsals. This show isn't coming together quite as nicely as I would have hoped, but I do have a commitment to the cast and the company. You understand dear, don't you?" Helen walked over to Charlotte and put an arm around her shoulders. "I promise, love. The very first day I'm free of rehearsals and performances, I promise we'll have our shopping trip and lunch. Maybe we can even go see a show at the theatre, hm? Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Oh yes," Charlotte agreed, forcing a smile on her face. "That would be wonderful, Helen. You must go to rehearsals. It's your job."
"Oh, Charlotte. Sometimes theatre just isn't a job...it's my life," Helen told her with a small smile. "I wouldn't give it up for the world, but it is very...time consuming. I'd like to spend more time with my family." She gently tapped Charlotte's nose with the tip of her finger. "I must be off. I'm sure Mrs. Gates will accompany you if you still want to go out today. If not, please feel free to make yourself comfortable in the rest of the house. It's yours too, now." Helen gave her one last smile before saying goodbye and turning for the door. And then she was gone.
Charlotte let the fake smile drop from her face. She sighed and sat heavily at the dining room table. She couldn't help but feel disappointed, even though Helen did have a good reason for cancelling their trip. It was Helen's job. Charlotte couldn't blame her for going to work. But still...memories of her own mother flooded Charlotte's mind.
I can't come see your school show, Charlotte. I have a performance, too. Which is more important?
Charlotte, please stop sulking. I know it's your birthday, but we need to prioritize our time. Daddy and Luc will have supper with you today and I will take you to buy a present when my show finishes.
Don't you dare cry in front of me, young lady. I will not condone it. You know I detest bringing children to the theatre, and this is exactly why...
Charlotte shook her head, as if trying to erase these terrible memories. Helen didn't seem one bit like her own mother, but like always, theatre seemed to be getting in the way. But at least Helen was making an effort. At least Helen seemed to care.
"You should come to expect it, you know," said a voice from the doorway. Charlotte turned sharply. Standing there was the young man from last night. He seemed sober now, but dark circles lingered under his eyes, no doubt from the alcohol. He was handsome though, Charlotte decided, with his chestnut brown hair and blue eyes.
"What?" Charlotte asked the boy.
"Helen tends to make promises she can't ever keep," he said matter-of-factly with a shrug. "But probably even more annoying than that is Lewis, who insists on keeping his promises."
Charlotte was immediately piqued by his comment. Who was he to tell her how tactless Helen was or how annoying Lewis could be? These people had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go. Why did this boy think he could tell her otherwise?
"Well, since you were eavesdropping on our conversation, you must have heard Helen say that she had to go to rehearsals," Charlotte said defiantly, her temper beginning to flare. "It's her job. That's a little more important than a shopping trip."
"I heard," he replied dismissively. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. They're quite as wonderful as I'm sure you're imagining them to be in your head."
"And who are you to say that about them?" Charlotte asked. She sized the teenager up-he wore plain slacks and a button-up shirt. He didn't give off the air of anyone fancy. How could he be criticizing Lewis and Helen? He was probably just a servant! He probably didn't even know them! "Lewis and Helen have been nothing but wonderful to me. They were so gracious to take me in like this when I couldn't go anywhere else-"
"Yes, my parents do give off wonderful and gracious impressions," he cut her off with a smirk. "I think half of London would agree with you. But unlike me, half of London wasn't raised by the lovely Careys. Therefore, I don't believe they could have full impressions of my parents." He raised his eyebrows at Charlotte, as if imploring her to argue her point further. But Charlotte was too surprised to even comment.
"I'm Jack. Jack Carey. I'll bet you didn't know Lewis and Helen had a son." Jack chuckled at Charlotte's shock, only angering her further. "I don't suppose they like to mention me to a lot of people. I've heard the phrase troublemaker associated with my name quite often. Or perhaps it's because I'm hardly home. There's too much to do outside of this house, and nothing interesting enough to keep me in it."
Charlotte searched Jack's face for something to remind her of Lewis' quiet kindness, or Helen's sweet cheerfulness, but although she could make out Lewis' dimples in Jack's cheeks and the same cornflower hue in his eyes as Helen's, there was nothing about this boy that resembled his parents' pleasant dispositions.
"No," she finally told him with a straight face. "Nobody ever mentioned you."
"Not surprising," Jack told her. "Although I knew you were coming a long time ago. Probably before you even knew you were coming, in fact." He gave her one more look before turning. "You'll learn what I mean about my parents. Sooner or later. Nice to meet you, Charlotte." He said her name a bit distastefully, as if it put a bad flavor in his mouth.
Ch
arlotte watched him disappear down the hall, angering bubbling inside of her. Maybe it was the snide tone in his voice, that smirk, or his completely disrespectful attitude about his parents that angered her so. In any case, Charlotte was sure that although she was very fond of Lewis and Helen, she was not so enamored with their son.
Letting out a frustrated groan, Charlotte ran upstairs to her room and flopped onto her bed with her book. Some things seemed like they would never change, she mused as she settled into the pillows.
There was a faint knock at her door. "Come in!" Charlotte called without enthusiasm. Both the disappointment and Jack had put her into a rather foul mood.
Mrs. Gates poked her head into Charlotte's room. "Are you alright, dear?" she asked in her kind voice.
"I'm fine," Charlotte told her in as light of a voice as she could muster. She hid behind her book, hoping Mrs. Gates would just leave her alone. But instead, Mrs. Gates walked to the bed and took the book from Charlotte's hands, setting it on the bedside table with a smile.
"Come down to the kitchen with me. I could use some help baking," Mrs. Gates implored. She held out a hand to Charlotte.
The last thing Charlotte wanted to do was work in the kitchen. But she sighed and rolled off the bed, following Mrs. Gates out the door and downstairs.
"Helen was a poor, struggling actress," Mrs. Gates told Charlotte as they rolled up balls of cookie dough and placed them on baking sheets. "She was eighteen years old, living with a crowd of roommates, working odd jobs, and dreaming of starring in London. But one day she came across Lewis, and he knew it was just meant to be."
"Where did they meet?" Charlotte asked interestedly, hoping it was as romantic as her own parents' story had turned out to be.
"Lewis was almost finished at the university. He was writing his final play, which would be performed for critics and even producers who could fund the show in London. He was late for class one day and was running down the streets of London when he ran into Helen. He dropped all of his papers and was quite frustrated with himself...until he spotted Helen." Mrs. Gates smiled at Charlotte. "He was not thinking of himself, but of his play. He knew she would be the perfect lead actress. He cast her. The play was a sensation and Helen shot straight to stardom, as the theatre people would say."
Breathless Page 3
