After a quick moment, Jack nodded. "Thank you." He sat down across from Charlotte and properly dropped a cloth napkin onto his lap before serving himself some tea. Charlotte turned her eyes back to the newspaper as Jack reached for the scones.
"So," he said quietly, avoiding Charlotte's eyes. "Why didn't you say anything last night?" Charlotte met his eyes, which were serious. "I know you went to my room, Charlotte. You wrote me a note...remember?"
"Oh. Yes." Charlotte replied softly. She folded the paper and placed it down on the table, smoothing it with her palm. "I remember."
"You knew that I was out last night," Jack continued. "That I was drinking and partying. Why didn't you say anything? You usually have a harsh word or two. Or you could have said something to Lewis and Helen..."
Charlotte hesitated for a moment. In a way, she had wanted to run to Lewis and Helen to tell them what she had seen last night. In a way, she felt as if they could fix any problem. But then she had remembered that Jack had been like this for years. There was no changing him. There was only accepting him.
She finally shook her head and gave him a small smile. "It was your business, Jack. Not anyone else's. Yours. It doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what your parents think. You're eighteen years old, Jack. You get to make your own decisions. And you don't need a silly little girl running after you, telling your parents everything you do." She gave him a small laugh and then returned to her paper.
Jack smiled at her. He looked down at his tea for a moment. "But to be honest, Charlotte, you're not just a silly little girl anymore."
Charlotte met his eyes, surprised. Her heart strangely began to beat faster.
"You're not," he told her. "You're like my little sister now."
In a way, this made Charlotte happy and proud that he would consider his little sister. But in another part of her heart, she felt aching. "Oh," she said brightly. "Well that's definitely a compliment I'll be willing to take." She smiled at him and passed him a section of the paper. "Here. I think the racing scores are in there if you're interested." Jack smiled back at her and took it, leaning back in his chair to read.
Charlotte looked at him for a moment longer, admiring him. He always looked so sweet in the morning, as if she could still see the reflection of the small boy he once was, with his soft hair mussed and his blue eyes still cloudy with sleep. He usually wore his glasses in the mornings, which made him look even younger. And when he was reading, he always wore a serious look upon his face that Charlotte loved. She smiled, and went back to reading her own section, enjoying this comfortably quiet moment with Jack more than she could ever have imagined.
"Good morning," Lewis said brightly, walking into the breakfast room.
"Good morning, Lewis," Charlotte replied with a smile.
"Thank you," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Were you two planning on attending church this morning? Helen seems to have contracted a bit of an illness and we're staying in for today. Jack, if Charlotte would still like to go, you'll take her?"
"Of course," Jack agreed.
"Tell Helen we hope she feels better," Charlotte said, in the back of her mind wondering if Helen was getting sick like she had been at the theatre last night.
"I will," Lewis said gratefully before leaving the room.
"So," Jack said to Charlotte. "Did you still want to go today?"
"I had been planning on it," Charlotte admitted, casting a glance at the sunny outdoors. "But we don't have to go if you don't want to," she added hurriedly, not wanting to keep Jack cooped up in a church for the better part of Sunday.
"No, let's go," Jack said enthusiastically, his blue eyes darting to the opened balcony doors. "Hurry up and get dressed so we can get out of this stuffy house."
A grin spread across Charlotte's face and she darted up from the table, eager to start the day.
In a remarkably quick length of time, Charlotte and Jack had dressed and were in his car, driving to the church with the windows rolled down. Charlotte grinned as the light wind tossed her hair over her cheeks and across her forehead. Her cardigan had been tossed aside, leaving her shoulders bare under her white sleeveless sundress. The hot sun's rays kissed the tips of her shoulders as she leaned her arm on the frame of the window. She glanced over at Jack and smiled, seeing him looking so content. He drove casually, his light suit jacket tossed aside and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stylish sunglasses perched on his nose. He looked completely serene and carefree in a way that Charlotte had never seen before.
"Isn't it absolutely gorgeous today?" Jack asked suddenly. Charlotte smiled and nodded. "What do you say we skip church today?" he asked her, casting a quick glance. "It's too beautiful of a day to spend in a church. Let's do something else. Is that okay with you?"
"Yes!" Charlotte agreed excitedly. "What should we do?"
"We'll stop at the cafe," Jack told her. "And pick up some lunch. Let's have a picnic at the park."
When they arrived, the park was much more crowded than Charlotte would have expected. It seemed that everyone in London was having a day out-picnicking with their families, playing games with their children, courting their sweethearts. "It's very busy," she commented to Jack as he laid their quilt on the lawn.
"I expected it to be so," Jack replied. "If you think about it, it's the perfect place for everyone. You don't have to pay to get it, and you can bring your own food and games. And it's such a beautiful day outside. My parents are crazy for staying indoors." He dropped to the ground and laid on his back, shielding the glaring sun with his arm.
Charlotte sat down gingerly, carefully folding her skirt under her legs. She looked around a bit awkwardly. "Why are they looking at us?"
"They're kids," Jack said, hearing laughs and screams as a few children ran by. "They're always staring at something."
"No, Jack," Charlotte insisted. "Look." Jack finally took his arm away from his face and sat up, looking around at the people who were nearby taking picnics or strolling along the grass. They would cast inquisitive glances at the pair and then maybe murmur to each other, giving pointed looks in Charlotte's direction. After observing for a few moments, Jack turned to Charlotte with his familiar smirk. "Char, if you haven't already noticed, you're photograph has been in every newspaper this week. You've already performed for thousands of people. They know who you are. You're fa-"
"Don't say it," Charlotte cut him off. She shut her eyes and shook her head vigorously. She had always hated when people called her mother famous, as if it were an admirable characteristic. She still hated it. She felt Jack's gentle touch on her arm.
"Do you want to leave?" Jack asked her seriously. Charlotte bit her lip, not wanting to be an inconvenience, but one look was all Jack needed to know she was lying. "Come on," he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the grass. He pulled her with him as he broke into a run across the lawn, so fast that Charlotte's skirt flew out behind her and her hair caught in the wind. For a split second, Charlotte was reminded of the time, which felt so long ago, when the bombs fell over London and Jack had run with her, pulling her to safety. And in the same way, he was pulling her to safety once again. The pair ran until they came over the top of a hillside and into the grounds of a beautiful cemetery.
They stood together for a moment, breathless, heaving with exhaustion. But Jack briskly began to walk again, making his way between the monumental tombstones and mausoleums, and Charlotte followed close behind. They walked for what felt like a lengthy amount of time before he finally stopped in front of a tombstone. Charlotte stood next to him and looked at it with surprise.
"John Wesley Craig," she read aloud, looking at the pristine engraving. "This is Helen's brother!" she remarked in awe. "This is your uncle. Wesley's father," she murmured
"Yes," Jack replied. "This is our family's plot." He walked a few steps to the next tombstone. "And look at this."
Charlotte's eyes widened when she saw the name. "Sylvia DuPont Craig." She looked up a
t Jack. "Oh, Jack! This...this is Sylvie! Who my role was named after! This is her!" She stared at the stone, as if trying to form a connection between Sylvie and herself. This moment was incredible. Sylvie had become such an important part of Charlotte's life. She constantly wished she had known her while she was alive and so full of spirit, as Wes had described. She looked longingly at the two plots of the lovers, so close together, as if they were sharing the same grave. They were together at last, no longer separated by war or illness or death. And Charlotte felt happy for them because of this. But all she wanted was that same love in her own life.
"Jack," Charlotte began, but he was no longer standing beside her. Past the Craigs' graves, there was a measure of bare grass before the next tombstone which Jack stood in front of. He stood silently, looking down at the grave with a solemn expression and his hands clasped together as if saying a prayer. And across his face was one of the saddest expressions Charlotte had ever seen. Charlotte quietly walked to his side, careful tnot to disturb him.
"This is Joey's grave," Jack remarked quietly, his voice dull. "This was my friend Joey." Charlotte followed the line of his stare to the modest engraving on the tombstone which read Joseph Henry Green. He had only been sixteen years old when he died. "His family wasn't rich. They were nothing like mine," Jack said with distaste in his voice. "They couldn't even afford a plot. So my parents gave him a place in ours."
Charlotte quietly looked at the stone, trying to imagine the person Joey must have been. "What was he like?" she asked Jack.
He was silent for a moment. "He was smarter than me. He was more handsome. He was much friendlier. He was better liked. I always looked up to him. It's hard to describe him," Jack said haltingly. "Because I was always following after him, looking up to him as a role model. I was ashadow of Jeoy. And after he died, I was still just a shadow. A shadow of my old self." He looked at Charlotte solemnly. "I wish you could have known him. And I wish you could have known me when I was still my whole self. I think you might have liked me."
Charlotte looked up at him in surprise. "But I do like you," she told him quietly, admitting it for the first time. But Jack didn't seem to notice.
"You couldn't," he said, shaking his head with an ironic smile. "I'm not a very likeable person, Charlotte. I know that."
Charlotte wanted to interject. She wanted to speak up and tell Jack how she felt about him, or how she thought she felt about him anyway. But she knew now wasn't the time for that. This was his time to remember Joey, to grieve for him. Charlotte wished she had known they were coming to the cemetary so she could have brought flowers to cover Joey's bare headstone. But she had nothing to give excect for her remembrance. Charlotte knelt down on the grass and clasped her hands together.
"Notre Père, qui es aux cieux," she began to pray. She hadn't used her native language in weeks, but it was still what felt best. It was still what felt closest to her heart, and she wanted to share that with Jack. "Amen," she finished, crossing herself and standing next to Jack with her head bowed. They stood like that, two pillars in the wind, for what felt like a long time before Jack finally cleared his throat.
"We should be getting home," he said, his voice stony and unfamiliar. Charlotte nodded and followed him as he stalked away. And she couldn't help but wonder if by opening up to him, she had also caused him to shut himself away even more.
Almost immediately after they returned home, Jack went up to his room. He closed the door with a slam, not bothering to say goodbye to Charlotte. She cringed hearing the door shut after him, feeling dread overcome her body. After all this time and such a nice afternoon together, had everytnig between them once again become a disaster?
She frowned and threw herself onto the parlor sofa, grabbing the nearest book on the coffee table. She flipped through it angrily, glancing at the photographs of the world marvels. Lewis had thought they might be interesting to guests. "So stupid," Charlotte muttered, tossing the book back on the table and crossing her arms.
"What's so stupid?"
Charlotte turned to see Wesley standing in the doorway. "Wes!" she smiled brightly. "Why are you here?"
"I didn't want to stay at home all day, so I decided to come see you." He smiled at her. Charlotte's heartache didn't go away when she was with Wesley, but he did dull the pain. "Do you have plans for today?"
"Not anymore," Charlotte remarked a bit sullenly. "I was out with Jack, but now he's shut up in his room. So now I'm here reading." She gestured to the book.
Wesley looked at her critically. "You were reading that coffee table book? I thought you were a fan of Shakespeare and Wilder!"
"I am!" Charlotte insisted.
"Then I know what we're doing today," Wesley said extending his hand and pulling Charlotte from her seat. "Let's go," he told her, leading her toward the front door.
"Where are we going?" Charlotte asked, running to keep up.
"To St James Square," Wes told her, a sparkle in his eye. "To the biggest library in the world."
"Do we need the car?" Charlotte asked as he yanked open the door.
"What for? It's a beautiful day and we live in a beautiful city. Let's live while we're young."
Wesley hadn't been exaggerating. It was indeed the largest library in the world, and certainly a beautiful one as well. It stood tall and white and overflowing with books. Charlotte was certain she must be in heaven. "Oh, Wes!" she exclaimed, nearly running over to a section. "Look at all the histories!"
"Charlotte," he called from another section. "Come here." Charlotte made her way over to Wes and her eyes shone when she saw the amazing stacks upon stacks."
"These are all plays," Charlotte breathed, grinning. "Could this be real?" She smiled and ran her hand along the bindings of a nearby shelf. "Oh," she mused. "I wish Jack could see this," she said, without hardly thinking.
Wesley chuckled. "I think Jack has been here before. He loves to read nearly as much as his father does. I'm sure he's made his fair share of trips to the library."
Charlotte nodded. "Oh, of course," she agreed. But silently, she corrected herself. I wish Jack were here to experience this with me.
Wesley was always a gentleman, always a sweetheart. He followed Charlotte around the massive library for nearly three hours, suggesting books and letter her pile them into his arms. "I think that might be enough," he chuckled as he handed him yet another fat volume of mythological tales. "It's going to take you months to read these!"
"Never," Charlotte grinned, shaking her head. "I have hours and hours to read: in my dressing room, before call times, in bed...and now that I will be tutored by Mr. Barry again, I'll have my afternoons free to read as well."
"Are you disappointed to be out of school again?" Wesley asked, watching Charlotte pour over more titles.
"A little bit. But I'd be more disappointed if I couldn't be onstage. And Celia will visit me. She always does. Besides, school is ending in a few weeks."
"Right. So then Jack will be home to keep you company as well."
Charlotte halted, her hand in midair. She hadn't even thought of that. She'd be home-probably alone-with Jack all day, every day. Would he even be speaking with her? She groaned, frustrated. She was so tired of following Jack's moods. When he was pleasant, he was one of the most wonderful people she had ever met. But when he was selfish or angry, Charlotte could barely stand him. And yet, she couldn't stay away.
"Come on," Wes told her. "The library will be closing soon. Let's check these out for you."
"Oh, how my arms ache!" Charlotte laughed as they finally rounded the corner to the house.
"We should have taken the car!" Wesley agreed, but he was laughing too. The pair had been lugging armfuls of books for miles and it had become a joke. "But I had no idea you were going to want so many!"
"Then you have no idea how much I love books!" Charlotte teased. She dropped her pile on the front steps of the house and smiled at Wesley. "I think I can take them from here."
"Are you sure?" he
asked. "You could easily break your back trying to carry all of those up the stairs..."
Charlotte grinned at put her hands on his shoulders. "I promise I'll be fine," she told him sincerely, before reaching in and pecking him on the lips. "Thank you for taking me!" She struggled to pick up all the books. "I had a wonderful time today."
"I did, too," Wes smiled at her and opened the door. "I'll see you at tomorrow's show?"
"Yes!" Charlotte agreed. "Goodbye!" She kicked the door closed behind her and stumbled into the parlor, dropping the books on a nearby table. She heard a clattering from the staircase.
"Where have you been?" Jack asked Charlotte with a sharp tone in his voice as she came into view. He looked cross, his eyes blazing.
"Nice to see you, too," Charlotte replied, walking to pour herself a glass of water from the cut-glass pitcher in the parlor. Jack descended from the stairs and stalked over to her, taking the glass from her hand.
"Do you realize that I was responsible for you today?" Jack asked Charlotte seriously, glaring into her face. "I came downstairs and you were gone. If you had gotten lost or didn't come back, Lewis and Helen would have had my head on a silver platter!"
"Well we're sure not in short supply of those in this house, are we?" Charlotte snapped, sick of Jack's moods. She tried to turn away but he pulled her back.
"Who were you out with?" he asked, suddenly quieter. "Where did you go?"
"It's none of your business!" Charlotte cried, glaring back at him, staring straight at his angry blue eyes. They were unrelenting. "I was out with Wesley," she finally said. "He took me to the library. You can't forbid me from going to the library!"
"No one knew where you were! I don't care if you were with Wesley! You could have been laying dead in the street and we wouldn't have known!"
"Try," Charlotte said through her teeth. "Just try and get me in trouble for going out with Wesley. But it's not going to happen. Your mother loves that I see Wesley. She would love if I married Wesley. She loves him like a son and me like a daughter. It's a perfect solution to everything."
Breathless Page 19
