Carried Away

by Jill Barnett

  When Eachann caught her dragging the crate down the front steps, he stopped her. “What are you doing with that?”

  She placed a hand on her back and straightened. “I’m getting rid of it.”

  “What? You can’t. That’s mine!”

  “But there’s nothing worth keeping. I don’t even know what half of this is. What are you going to do with it?”

  “That is my parts box.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I’m saving those things to use for ‘parts.’ Parts,” he repeated firmly. “If something breaks or gets lost, I’ll have a replacement part in this box.”

  She looked at the box and shook her head. “Then take it somewhere. It doesn’t belong inside the house.”

  He grumbled something, picked up the box as if it were filled with gold bricks, and left.

  By Thursday, she had cleaned all the rooms but his bedroom. She’d spent one whole night just rearranging the furniture. She moved the overstuffed chair nearer the door and the small sofa near the fireplace.

  The tables had all been in foolishly inconvenient places and none of the chairs faced each other. There was no conversation area at all. Everything had just been shoved against whatever wall was available.

  The room had been such a mess that she actually found a piano she hadn’t known was there.

  When Eachann came in the room, Georgina was sitting by the fire admiring the room. She watched him leave a trail of clutter—his coat, gloves, and a riding crop were on the floor behind him. He emptied his pockets and dumped all the contents into a delicate crystal vase she’d found stuffed with dirty socks.

  He turned around, took two steps, and ran into the chair. “What the hell is that doing there?” He scowled at the room. “What did you do?”

  “I just fixed up the room a little.”

  He was still looking around. “Where did the piano come from?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I found it in that corner.”

  And from then on, the week got worse. He came in one afternoon, went into the kitchen, looked around, then came back. “I forgot to tell you. I sent David to the mainland.”

  She had just sat down because she had a pounding headache. “Fine,” she said, rubbing her temples.

  “There’s no dinner.”

  She waited for the rest of the sentence. When it didn’t come she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “You need to make something.”

  “Me? I can’t cook.”

  “What are we going to eat?”

  She stood up and crossed the room; she paused. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you sent David to the mainland.” She reached over to a bowl on a small table. “Here, have an apple. It doesn’t have to be cooked.”

  The next night she tried to cook something for the children. She found a cookbook with basic instructions and she worked hard. The whole time she was remembering all those times she reprimanded one of the servants, the maids, or the cook. She hadn’t known what hard work was until now.

  Eachann sent word that a mare was ready to foal, so he wasn’t there, but she was sitting at the kitchen table with his children.

  They’d spent five minutes arguing over which one of them got the first serving. She’d spent over an hour shelling peas and now Graham was blowing them out his nose.

  “Graham, stop that right now! Hasn’t your father taught you any manners at all?”

  The boy just shrugged.

  Kirsty gave a slight gasp, then she looked at Georgina. “Graham farted.”

  Georgina dropped her fork and looked at the child. “I’m so glad you shared that with me.”

  Kirsty looked a little uneasy. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

  She threw down her napkin. “Why? Why would I want to know that? The truth is you said that for the same reason you say and do everything. You want to offend me.” She stood up. “Go to your room. And Graham, if you blow one more pea out your nose you’ll go with her.”

  Kirsty just sat there.

  “I said, ‘Go to your room.’ “

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You have one minute to move or . . . ”

  She could see Kirsty was waiting to hear the severity of her threat. It took Georgina about a minute to come up with a good one. “If you don’t go up to your room right now I’ll let Graham be first in everything for a week.”

  A second later Kirsty was trudging up the stairs.

  Chapter 53

  Children want limits.

  Limits make them feel safe.

  —Unknown

  Georgina was waiting for Eachann when he came in. She was sitting in a chair in the shadowed corner of the room. She watched him for a moment.

  He paced the room like a caged animal, then stopped and stared at the fire. After a minute he sat down in a chair and leaned his head back. He had his hand on his forehead. He was rubbing his temples.

  He didn’t look happy. He looked agitated. And what she was going to say to him was going to make things worse. It had been this way almost every day. They couldn’t be around each other without one of them getting angry.

  “Eachann.” She stood up.

  He looked up from his chair, startled.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Your children are completely undisciplined and rowdy. Their behavior is beginning to turn mean. You have to do something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. You’re their father.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know anything about children.”

  “You can’t control them by running away or shoving them off on someone else.”

  “They scare the hell out of me, George.”

  She knew how hard that was for him to admit. He was a proud man.

  “What was your father like?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t remember. I don’t know how to be a father. I can’t be something I don’t know how to be.”

  “Why not? Did you always know how to be a brother to Calum? Were you born knowing how to raise horses? You can raise horses but you can’t raise your own children?”

  “I know I let them run wild. But I don’t know how else to show I care for them.”

  “Did you know how to be husband?”

  “No,” he said almost too quietly. “Maybe I was afraid to be a father to them. I just didn’t have anything to give anyone after their mother died.” He took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. “I know that’s selfish, but it’s true.”

  “You need to get to know your children. If you paid any attention to them at all they wouldn’t be doing all this.”

  He sat there with his head back, staring at the ceiling as if he were searching for something he’d lost. “Sibeal was so good with them. I never had to do anything. She did everything. She had wanted to do it all. Even when they weren’t babies anymore.” He looked at her then. “They were more hers than mine.”

  “But she’s not here for them anymore. All they have is you. I know you care about them. I can see it in your face when you look at them. I saw the haunted look in your eyes when you pulled us from the water that first night. You care. But if you love them, you have to become part of their lives. You have to learn to discipline them. You need to find some way to show these children that you love them.”

  He sat there for the longest time, thinking and not speaking. He shook his head, then looked at her. “Sometimes, George, when Kirsty looks up at me like I’m some god, I want to run as fast as I can. I’m no god. I’m a man and not even a good father.”

  “You can’t be anything to them if you don’t get to know them. She’s just a scared little girl. She lost her mother. You don’t pay any attention to her unless she does something wrong and lately not even then. You need to spend time with your son and your daughter. You need to learn who they are.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then he gave a cynical laug
h. “I think I know who they are. Little heathens who would paint my face blue and put lobsters in my bed.”

  Chapter 54

  The strangest things are there for me,

  Both things to eat and things to see,

  And many frightening sights abroad

  Till Morning in the Land of Nod.

  —Robert Louis Stevenson

  Calum and Amy came back to the island that day with the news of their marriage. Georgina went to bed that night thinking things in her life would be better with Amy around.

  But the reality was that Calum and Amy were newlyweds. She saw little of Amy after that first day, and when she did, she was always with Calum.

  Georgina was happy for Amy and Calum, but watching them almost tore her heart out. They were so in love. They touched. They kissed. They were a couple. In fact they were never alone.

  Watching them just made Georgina more aware of the fact that she was all alone. Very much alone. Loneliness was an ache deep inside her.

  As the days went on it became harder. She would catch Eachann looking at her with the same uncomfortable tenseness that she had whenever Amy and Calum were with them.

  Eachann had spent more time with his children. He’d even talked to them about the tricks they had played on her and made them apologize and promise to behave. They had, too.

  He included Graham in most of his daily activities. He took him to the stable, taught him to ride, and had him helping with the chores.

  But Kirsty was left with Georgina. They were getting along somewhat better, but only because every time she started to misbehave, Georgina called her on it. So far, it worked.

  So as the days passed their life took on more of a routine. As the weather grew colder and the nights longer, they all spent more time together.

  Just that night they were all sitting around a toasty fire. The frost was high and cold and the first snow had come and gone the week before.

  Eachann was teaching Graham to play chess. But Graham was hiding Eachann’s chess pieces in his pockets when his father wasn’t looking.

  When Eachann finally caught on, he gave his son a stern look. “Hand them over.”

  Graham had begun to empty his pockets into his father’s big hand. There were chess pieces, string, rocks, a moonsnail and an earth star, two-dried up worms, seashells and a sticky peppermint, small pieces of paper and some keys and old buttons.

  He was still emptying his pockets when Georgina looked at Eachann and smiled. “You can tell he’s your son.”

  Calum burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Graham asked, as he added a twig shaped like a fork to the pile in his father’s hand.

  “You have a lot of things in your pockets, son.”

  “I know,” Graham said perfectly seriously. “I’m saving them for parts.”

  Eachann laughed along with everyone else and ruffled the boy’s red hair.

  Amy and Calum exchanged a kiss, and when Georgina looked away it was straight into Eachann’s serious gaze. The look he gave her warmed her all over, held hers intently as if he were trying to gauge her thoughts.

  She turned away, afraid he might actually be able to see what she was thinking, that she didn’t want him to stop looking at her, that she didn’t want him to treat her like his children’s nursemaid.

  She felt awkward and out of place, scared because she so desperately wanted to walk over to him, to touch him, to trace his jaw with her hand, and to have him hold her.

  But she just sat there, looking calm on the outside and feeling anything but calm on the inside.

  The weather grew wild that night too. The wind blew and rattled the windows. There was thunder and hail and enough racket to scare the fur off a rabbit.

  It was late when Georgina finally went to bed. She’d been in the kitchen, eating some of David’s sweet potato pie. She was carrying it and a fork to bed with her.

  She heard the sound of crying before she even realized what it was. She stopped in the upstairs hallway and listened, then followed the muffled sound.

  It was coming from Kirsty’s room.

  She stood outside the door, then slowly turned the knob and opened it. The room was dark and it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust. She tiptoed inside and moved silently to the bed.

  It was empty. Then she heard the sobbing again and turned. It was coming from the closet.

  The rain and wind rattled and tapped against the window and howled over the house. The heart-wrenching sobs grew stronger with the storm.

  She opened the closet door and looked down.

  Kirsty was huddled in a dark corner, her knees drawn tightly against her chest and her head buried in her small hands. Her shoulders quivered and you could hear her breath catching in short abrupt gasps.

  Thunder crashed over the house so loud it almost made Georgina jump. The little girl moaned pitifully.

  Georgina stepped inside and sat down on the floor next to her.

  Kirsty looked at her in horror. “Go away,” she wailed. “Go away.”

  Georgina didn’t say anything. She just reached up and shut the closet door. She drew up her knees and sat there in the dark, eating pie and waiting.

  Kirsty was still sobbing.

  Georgina waited for a long time. Then more thunder rattled the room. She set down the pie and slid her arm around Kirsty, who was shaking. “Here,” she said, and pulled the child into her lap. “Sometimes I’m afraid of storms.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she muttered into her hands.

  Now what? Georgina waited, then said, “I’m afraid of many things.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I have nightmares that frighten me.”

  The child didn’t say a word.

  “I’m afraid that I’m not smart.” I’m afraid that your father is smarter.

  Silence.

  “I’m afraid because I’m all alone. I’m afraid because I don’t have a family. I’m afraid because I don’t have any friends.” I’m afraid because I am poor.

  Kirsty looked up at her.

  “I’m afraid my face will always be blue. I’m afraid I might find a lobster in my bed. I’m afraid I might sneeze and my brain will fall out. I’m afraid I’ll eat this whole pie.”

  Kirsty began to giggle.

  Georgina held up the fork. “Want some?”

  Kirsty ate some pie with her. After a few minutes she finally said, “I wasn’t telling the truth. I am afraid of storms.”

  “That’s why you’re hiding in here, isn’t it?”

  Kirsty nodded.

  “I used to hide under my covers. I’d pull them over my head whenever there was a storm.”

  “How come you’re not afraid anymore?”

  “I learned to think about something else, something I really liked, and then I forgot about the storm. So I always think about my favorite things when I’m scared.”

  “There are things that still scare you?”

  “Yes.”

  She felt Kirsty relax against her, she wasn’t crying anymore. She was munching on the pie and not paying any attention to the storm outside.

  A few minutes later she turned her small face up with its pie-crust crumbs on her chin. She looked up at Georgina. “I didn’t think grownups were afraid of anything.”

  “Everyone is afraid of something, Kirsty.” She hugged the girl a little tighter. I’m afraid I’m falling in love with your father.

  Chapter 55

  There was a young maid who said, “Why,

  Can’t I look in my ear with my eye?

  If I put my mind to it,

  I’m sure I can do it

  You can never tell till you try.”

  —Anonymous

  Georgina found the old clock the next morning. It was in a room on the other side of the house. She was standing there staring at it when Calum came in.

  “It’s one of your family’s clocks.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Do you have any of
the clocks?”

  She shook her head. “They were all auctioned with the house.”

  Calum crossed the room, took down the mantel clock and handed it to her. “It’s yours.”

  “No.”

  “We don’t need it,” he said. “And I think you might.”

  She looked at the clock as he placed it in her hands and felt as if she might do something really idiotic like cry.

  “Go on,” Calum said. “Take it.”

  “Thank you.” She started to leave the room, then hesitated at the door.

  He was watching her as if he expected this. Before she could ask her question, he answered, “I’m sure.”

  She smiled then and left, carrying the clock upstairs to the small bedroom that was hers. She went inside and crossed directly over to a small pine dresser.

  In it was everything she owned in world. She set the clock on the dresser top, wound it, leaned down a bit, and opened the small walnut door. With a flick of one finger she started the pendulum in motion. She started to close the door but saw the Bayard signature on the inside.

  She ran her finger over the carving, then took a deep breath and closed the small door. She stood back and looked at the clock. It was a walnut clock, the kind with a moon face on it. It ticked and tocked and kept perfect time.

  She stood there for a long time, thinking back over the years, over time that had been spun away by the hands of so many Bayard clocks. She remembered her life, her childhood and how her family had lived.

  Part of her wondered what kind of life her ancestor who crafted this piece had had. Did he and his wife have a house filled with love? Did they care about their children? Did they love their daughters as much as they loved their sons?