"Oh, would you stop, Charlotte?" Jack asked, frustrated. "You still don't know anything about my family. You don't know what goes on between us. You don't know our past."
"I know enough to know that you've alienated half of the people in your life! I know enough to know that Topher can barely stand you and Wesley knows he can't have a relationship with you. I know Celia didn't really like you. You know why you and Joey were so close?" Charlotte said, fuming. She couldn't control her thoughts. She couldn't control her words. They just kept erupting. "I think you and Joey were so close because he was the only one who could stand you. But now that he's gone, you don't have anyone."
Jack shook his head, clenching his teeth. "I'm done with you," he told Charlotte definitely, before leaving the parlor and walking out the front door, slamming it behind him.
And this time Charlotte didn't cry. She didn't curl up in bed. This time, she was just angry at herself for thinking Jack was any different than he seemed to be.
Charlotte woke late the next morning with the sun already streaming through the windows. She sighed, content, and turned over. Opening her eyes, she grinned. Standing on her bedside table was a long, beautiful vase with lengthy, elegant orchids stemming from the neck. Charlotte reached for the little notecard perched on the petals. "Charlotte," she read his lovely, neat print. "I hope you think these flowers are as lovely as I though you are. Wesley." Charlotte brushed her hand along his tidy signature and smiled. He always seemed to know how to brighten her day.
Charlotte leapt from her bed and grabbed the vase, racing across the hallway. "Jack!" she said excitedly, wrenching open his door. But as soon as she did, she knew something was wrong.
The stench of liquor hung heavily in the air and his room was full of smoke, cigarettes burning in ashtrays on his desk. And Jack lay in bed, still in his clothes from the night before, his hair a mess and his eyes sunken. And this time, Charlotte didn't want to act maturely. She didn't want to tiptoe around him and hide what he had done. The last time she had tried to help him by keeping it to herself, it hadn't mattered. In the end, he was still angry with her. He was always angry with her. He was just angry. But now Charlotte was angry, too. And she couldn't play sweet any longer.
"Wake up," she snapped, shoving him. Jack immediately sat straight, but then put is head in his hands.
"Jesus, Char," he murmured.
"What is wrong with you?" Charlotte snapped, standing over him. "Why are you like this? You really are just a spoiled brat! I can't believe I thought for even a moment that you were anything else!"
"What are you talking about?" Jack asked, turning his eyes to glare at her.
"Don't you realize how lucky you are?" Charlotte asked incredulously. "Don't you realize what you have? Topher must have longed and longed for what you have and take for granted! He would have loved to have your education, your belongings, your opportunities! But you don't seem to care about any of it! And the same for Joey. You said his family was poor. Do you know what he really must have thought about you?"
"Don't talk to me about Joey," Jack warned, his voice lethal.
"And Wesley, as well," Charlotte went on. "Don't you realize how much he must have longed for a father like Lewis? Or a mother like Helen?"
"Charlotte," Jack said, his voice growing angry. "Would you stop talking about Wesley as if he were an unfortunate case? He lost his parents, but he didn't lose his life. He was brought up beside me," he fumed. "We grew up with the same parents, the same toys, the same books, the same education. You can't keep giving him the role of the martyr when he was just as privileged as anyone else, same as you were." Jack glared at Charlotte. "Don't pretend you know the worldly ways. You were brought up just as wealthy, just as privileged as I was. And you are a spoiled brat, just like me. Don't pretend like you're a better person."
He glanced at the bouquet in her hands and smirked. "From Wesley?" he guessed. "Your suffering is apparent." He pushed past her and stalked out into the hallway.
Charlotte followed him, her anger fuming as she watched him walk down the corridor, his shirt annoyingly wrinkled, hanging loose over his sturdy frame, and his hair mussed. Charlotte couldn't stand him.
Without hardly thinking, she cried out in anger and threw the vase. It smashed into the wall and broke into a million pieces on the carpeting, the flowers laying amongst the shards of glass.
Jack whipped around in shock. "What the hell?" he cried. "Charlotte," he yelled, no longer snippy, but fully angry. "Is this how you got your way back home? By smashing things and throwing a hissy fit? Because it's not going to work on me!"
"Nothing works on you, Jack," Charlotte yelled back. "I've finally realized that there's no helping you. You have no feelings. I'm done."
"Oh really, Charlotte?" Jack stepped closer to her. "Funny you can say that, because you always seem to come crawling back."
Charlotte's cheeks burned red. "Well I won't anymore," she said stubbornly, crossing her in front of her chest.
"Good," Jack said just as stubbornly. He seemed to be ready to turn away, but hesitated and leaned closer to Charlotte. "I'm done," he declared with finality. "I know I've said it before, but I mean it this time. Stay away from me. You're like poison. Every time I think something is finally going right in my life, you go and ruin it. And I just can't deal with it anymore. I can't deal with you anymore."
"Fine," Charlotte agreed. "I feel the same way about you."
"Fine," Jack repeated.
Just then, Lewis came down the hallway, looking cross. "What is going on here?" he asked, looking down at the broken vase. "I could hear screaming from across the house."
Neither jack nor Charlotte said anything. They both looked at their feet. Charlotte felt so badly. Helen and Lewis had tried so hard for the pair to get along. It all seemed such a waste now.
"Jack, clean this up," Lewis directed before giving both of them a pointed stare.
"No," Charlotte interjected. "I'll do it." She looked up at Jack. This seemed like it would be the last time she would ever do him a favor.
Sometime later, she made her way down to the dining room where Helen was already seated with a cup of tea and a newspaper. She raised her eyebrows as Charlotte entered the room. "Is everything alright up there?"
"Fine," Charlotte said, not feeling very conversational as she sat beside Helen. "Jack...and I...were just being...ourselves," she finally responded after thinking for a moment.
Helen sighed disappointedly. "I was so hoping you two would have a better relationship. But it seems like every time I think you two are finally getting along, it seems as if everything just falls apart."
Charlotte couldn't reply. She knew it was true.
"You know, Charlotte," Helen said, reaching out for her hand. "I feel terrible saying this, but it has come across my mind more than once that when the war is over..." she paused, "that you should stay here in England. With us."
Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. She had always seen herself as a burden for Lewis and Helen, despite how often they told her they were glad to have her.
"Oh dear," Helen said, taking Charlotte's hand, "I know you miss your brother and France, but you seemed so miserable when you first came here. And now...you seem like such a different girl. And more than that," Helen looked at Charlotte with her beautiful blue eyes. "I now think of you as my daughter. And I don't want to lose you."
Charlotte felt tears spring up in her eyes.
"Please just think about it," Helen insisted. "Luc can live here, too. We'll give him a room. We can keep performing together. And when the baby comes," Helen lowered her voice and put her hand over her stomach. "You can be the godmother."
Charlotte was speechless. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked solemnly at Helen. "Helen, you've done so much for me already-"
Helen cut her off by patting her hand. "You'll think about it, won't you?"
Charlotte nodded. "Yes. Of course."
The following weeks passed
quickly. Charlotte was becoming used to her new-found fame and would readily admit that it was to her liking. As the positive reviews for her performance kept flying in, she and Helen continued performing to sold-out audiences and were greeted nearly every evening with a standing ovation. Helen was proud of her, Charlotte could tell. She would beam every time Charlotte took her last bows and would send her little gifts or bouquets of flowers to her dressing room. Charlotte rather enjoyed this bond they were forming. Slowly, they were becoming more than just family friends. Sometimes Charlotte wondered if this was what it was like to truly have a mother. All of it was making her decision of where to live even more difficult than it already was.
I can't abandon Luc, Charlotte kept telling herself, reminding herself. Luc was all I had in France. He was always there for me when I needed him. I need to be the same for him when the war is over. It will be as if none of this ever happened.
But it was happening, Charlotte already knew she had become a different person since when she came to England. Would Luc still appreciate her even when she was all grown up? Or would he not find her so endearing now that she didn't need to be taken care of. After all, Charlotte had decided, Luc hadn't needed her nearly as much as she had always needed him. Luc had always had friends. He had always been popular. Even their parents admired Luc even when they didn't think anything of Charlotte. Did Luc really value her in the same way she valued him? Would he even care if she stayed in England after the war?
Charlotte shook these thoughts from her mind. Of course he'll want me back. He's my brother. He should not want any differently.
Meanwhile, Jack had returned to his old ways, leaving behind nothing that remotely reminded Charlotte of Luc. It was as if he had been transported back to the time when Charlotte first met him, when he was a sullen, rude teenager. He left the house early and came home late. He drank-Charlotte could hear him getting sick in the early morning hours-and he smoked-which she could smell from across the hallway. He didn't join the family for meals or outings. In fact, he very much didn't seem part of the family anymore. In a way, this bothered Charlotte, as she knew it bothered Lewis and Helen. But she still didn't mind the special treatment she received from them because of it.
She didn't mind that he wasn't around to fight or bicker with her anymore. But sometimes, when he would come home early in the morning after a long night of partying, Charlotte would quietly peek into his room, longingly. She still couldn't understand why she felt so strangely toward him. It was something she was sure she would never understand.
"Another successful show!" Lewis exclaimed, embracing Charlotte backstage on a warm night in June. "Congratulations, everyone!"
"Oh, everyone's been working so hard," Helen told him. "Don't you think they deserve a little bit of an award? Shall we all stay for a while and have a little party? There is no show tomorrow. I think we deserve a treat!"
"Oh, please!" Charlotte agreed with a grin. She loved her cast, and they had all grown so close over the past few months. Spending time with them was like spending time with another family.
"I'll order in some food and grab the champagne," Lewis decided, pecking Helen on the cheek. She took a hold of his arm and looked up at him lovingly.
"This is why I love you so much," Helen said, looking up into his eyes with the sweetest expression Charlotte could ever imagine. The pair kissed again, much to the chagrin of the rest of the cast, but Charlotte just looked on smiling, hoping that someday she could have such love in her life.
As if on cue, Jack walked in at that very moment, looking very awkward. Charlotte's heart leapt at the sight of him.
"Jack!" Lewis exclaimed happily. "What are you doing here?"
"Topher told me the car was at the mechanic's," he explained quietly, his hands in his pockets. "I brought mine over. It's in the lot."
"We were just about to have a small celebration," Lewis told him. "You should stay!"
"Why don't you go change out of your costume and put on something more comfortable," Helen suggested to Charlotte. Charlotte nodded and turned, but caught her foot on the ropes of the curtains and went tumbling to the floor.
"My darling!" Helen exclaimed, kneeling down. "Are you alright?"
Charlotte's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Of course she would do something embarrassing just as Jack arrived. She nodded and said quietly, "I think I'm fine." But when she went to stand, there was intense pain in her ankle.
"It looks like it's swelling," Lewis said, quickly examining it. "We should get you to a doctor."
"No!" Charlotte pled. "Please, Lewis. You and Helen so deserve a night to celebrate everything. I'll go alone."
"We wouldn't think of it," Helen told her. "I'd send Wesley with you but he had a contract meeting with Mr. Bates tonight..." She bit her lip.
"I'll take her," Jack spoke up. Charlotte looked up at him in surprise. "I mean, I have the car with me and everything. It just makes sense." He looked at Charlotte. "You think you can walk out to the door if I bring the car around?" Charlotte nodded, her heart beating heavily at the thought of being alone with Jack. "Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes."
Lewis and Helen helped Charlotte out to the stage door and settled her into Jack's car. "Take her to Dr. Ellison," Helen instructed Jack. "I've already called him and told him you're coming. Be careful, darling," she told Charlotte with a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you in a little while. Don't worry, everything will be fine." She smiled at her encouragingly and closed the car door, blowing a kiss as the pair drove away, Lewis holding her hand.
"It's just a sprain," Dr. Ellison determined some time later. He was a pleasant man with a kind face and big, round eyes like a puppy's. "Nothing to worry about. Rest it and ice it and you will be fine."
"Will I be well enough to perform?" Charlotte asked worriedly. "I'm an actress and I still have so many more shows..."
"As long as there is no running and jumping, I think you'll be alright," he told her. "The most you'll have to worry about is keeping the pain off your face during the performances." He handed Jack a note. "Here is a prescription for some painkillers. Just take them for the next few days."
"Thank you, Dr. Ellison," Charlotte said, standing from the bed and casting him a grateful smile. Jack allowed her to lean on his arm as they walked out to the car.
After shifting the car into drive, Jack commented, "I can't believe that after everything, you sprain your ankle on a rope backstage." Charlotte looked at him in surprise. "After so many months of running and scampering around with Celia down the streets of London, and skipping up and down stairs and running around backstage, that you twist your ankle on a rope. That," he managed a small smile, "takes talent."
Charlotte grinned. They might be talking about her clumsiness, but at least they were talking.
"Congratulations on your graduation," she said quietly, testing her luck. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there." He shrugged, showing her that he didn't mind. Charlotte couldn't skip a performance for a school graduation. "So I suppose this means you'll be off to the university soon."
Jack turned the corner. "That's the plan. Will you miss me?"
Charlotte pursed her lips, but finally replied, "What's there to miss?" very quietly, as if they were still kidding. But secretly, she didn't know how to reply.
"Yeah, I guess I haven't been around very often lately," Jack commented. "I feel a bit badly about that, for my mum. I know she wants to see me more before I leave. But when we take our holiday this summer, we'll all see plenty of each other then."
"There's a holiday?" Charlotte asked.
"Of course," Jack replied. "Every year we go to the coast for a couple of weeks. It's my favorite time of the year. I'm sure you'll be coming along."
Charlotte nodded. A week with Lewis and Helen...and Jack. "I'd love to," she finally replied.
"Good," Jack agreed and they continued their drive in silence.
But the silence didn't last long.
In an instant, the clear
, silent streets of London turned into chaos as the sound of sirens began wailing. Charlotte's heart dropped, remembering that night so long ago when she and Jack ran to hide in the basement of the theatre. She hadn't imagined how scary it would be to hear the planes, feel the explosions. But now it all came flooding back to her, and she was sure that the second time was truly scarier than the first.
With startling speed, Jack had bolted out of the car and ran over to Charlotte's side. He wrenched open the door and reached for her. "Charlotte, come on," he insisted, panic in his voice. "We have to get off the streets. We have to get out of here."
After only a moment's hesitation, Charlotte took his hand and pulled herself out of the car, although her ankle was still throbbing. Jack took off running, pulling Charlotte after him as the sirens intensified.
"We have to get to the tube," Jack yelled to her over the noise. "It will be the best way to keep underground. It's only a block over."
Charlotte nodded, since her mouth felt like cotton, but Jack didn't see. He was too focused on running to the underground station and getting them out of danger.
Finally Charlotte saw the sign for the tube and sighed in relief. "Almost there!" Jack called to her as they began to run down the stairs. But Charlotte's ankle gave out.
"Oh!" she gave out a small cry as she lost her footing. She tried to steady herself on the next step but again fumbled and in a horrifying moment felt herself crashing to the stairs and tumbling down them, only coming to a stop at the landing.
"Charlotte!" she heard Jack yell as he ran down the stairs and knelt next to her. "Charlotte, are you alright? Can you hear me?"
She was dazed and shaken from the fall and the sirens, but she managed to nod. "Oh!" she cried, her hand flying up to her forehead where she felt a spark of pain. When she pulled her hand away she noticed the bright red hue of blood on her fingertips.
"Put your arms around my neck," Jack instructed her, his eyes wide. Charlotte tried to do as he said, although her arms were still so shaky. She clasped her hands behind his neck as he lifted her under her knees and around her back and cradled her to his chest as he carried her down the remaining stairs and down to the tracks where so many others were already hiding.
Breathless Page 20
