"Then what is it that makes you sad?" Missy covered one of Clarkson hands with her own and breathed more easily when he didn’t draw away from her.
"I've changed Missy, the man next to you is not the boy you knew. I have many reasons to be sad. But you most certainly are not one of them."
"Then tell me how to chase away the things that give you pain, like I used to."
"I don't think even your soothing hands can fix what haunts me."
"A trouble shared is a troubled halved. I told you when we were children, I’d always be there for you." She squeezed his hand.
"I know you did, but I can't hold you to that. We're grown and I have to work things out for myself. Can we talk about something else?"
Missy removed her hand and placed it back in her lap. "What do you want to talk about instead?"
"I don't know. You never did get around to telling me about all your adventures while traveling around Europe."
"Because there is little to tell. I went to a lot of social functions, same as usual. Although I did enjoy going to the theater and the occasional opera." She knew her eyes shone bright by the mere thought of the wonders she’d experienced at the opera.
"Tell me about the operas you attended."
"Tell me about the ranch. What made you buy it?" She didn’t want to confess everything she had seen had the same trope of unrequited love. Missy was thankful Clarkson hadn’t insisted on knowing.
"I didn't want to return to Charleston and I needed a home for Kimberly."
"What for? A way to torture her for the many years, she tormented you?"
"Nothing could be further from the truth. Kimberly has changed; I felt it from her letters."
Missy’s chest tightened. "Her letters?" She fell silent. He'd bought the ranch for her, from the things she said to him in ink, sealing their fate. How could she have been so blind, so stupid? Because of her words she had doomed them both to a life of despair. They was no way she could tell him any of this. Kimberly hadn't changed not one bit. If anything she was worse.
The only thing Kimberly cared about was herself and her own selfish needs and Missy had handed her to Clarkson gift wrapped. Kimberly would waste no time in letting Clarkson know as much. Missy had to find a way to contain this situation or Clarkson's introduction to the truth would be a baptism of fire.
"You grow silent?"
“I was simply thinking over what you said about Kimberly changing."
"You don't agree?"
"I just think you should reserve judgment until after you have spent more time in her company. The letters one sends during times of war are sent to be uplifting and filled with promise. However the promises made may have been ornate in nature in order to ease suffering."
"Are you suggesting Kimberly's letter are filled with fanciful innovation? None of it meant with true meanings?"
"Please Clarkson, you know that's not what I meant—" her pulse began to race. She couldn’t think straight. Had she just made matters worse?
"Do I?” He cut in glaring at her. “Then what are you saying? I've given too much importance to the words which have kept me alive for all these years?"
"I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn.” Missy slumped, deflated and unsure of what to say in her own defense.
"And now you want to fill me with guilt. Missy I've never treated you less than as an equal. You—"
Clarkson’s words winded her like a punch to the stomach.
"You just have. If it pleases you sir, can we continue the rest of this journey in silence." The hurt coursing through her chest was as if her heart had split in two, a pain more unbearable, than she could imagine.
Clarkson had never spoken to her this way before and the gap between them widened for the first time in her life. She'd never presumed to be nobility even though she'd been adopted by the Montgomerys, she had been allowed to keep her given surname; as in truth her status was no more than a plaything for Kimberly. The Daltons had been the only family who'd never made her feel less than she was, until now.
It was ironic that the culprit would be Clarkson, the one she felt closest to as a child. He'd been the odd one out of his siblings, a loner like herself. Now he'd turned her world upside down and she no longer had a place to call home. Clarkson had destroyed everything she had built around herself.
He'd gone from a chink in her armor to a gaping hole. Her vulnerability was cemented by his words. Reduced to being poor little orphan Melissa, the child who had no one to care for her. He had pelted her back in time to the darkest moment of her life, miserable and lonely.
"Melissa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come out that way."
"It all right, Clarkson. I've overstepped my boundaries; it will never happen again."
"Melissa, please, forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive. Is that the house? It’s very grand."
The sooner she could get away from Clarkson the better. She needed someplace to go and lick her wounds because Clarkson’s words had removed a lot of scabs, she was bleeding inside.
Clarkson bought the carriage to a halt beside Cal's. He jumped down and held his hand out to help Missy climb down. She gazed at his hand then ignored it and got down unaided. She didn't want to feel his touch, for fear she'd burst into tears.
Missy ran over to join the other woman as the men assisted Kimberly out of the carriage. "You have a beautiful home, Rilla."
"Thank you. Shall we go and wait for the others inside."
"It not just a house," Jewel said, locking arms with Missy. "It's also a school." Jewel propelled Missy forward as they walked through the hall.
"A school in need of teachers," Rilla said, as they took off their outdoor covering and piled them on a table in the hall for the maid to sort through. "With both myself and Jewel out of commission for a while, I've advertised for assistance. My school is growing and the demand is high for additional placements." One of the maids had entered the living room with them. "Can you please bring my guest some refreshment," Rilla said.
Missy waited until Rilla was seated. "What qualifications do your teachers need?"
"Why do you ask?" Jewel asked, bringing Missy to the couch and pulling her by the arm to sit with her. Mrs. Dalton sat in the space on the other side of Missy. If Missy didn’t know better, she would think it a ploy to leave no space for Kimberly to be able to sit next to any of them. Rilla had chosen one of the armchairs.
"I'm simply curious. Kimberly will have no need of a companion when she's married. I was merely weighing up my options."
"Do you speak French?" Rilla asked, her eyes lighting up.
"I'm proficient in French, German, Spanish and Mandarin. Mr. Montgomery felt it would come in useful my being able to speak so many languages as a child and provided me with tutors in order to maintain my proficiency. He wanted someone he could trust to interpret for him in his foreign investments."
Missy felt sure it was also the number one reason he'd chosen her amongst all the other children at the orphanage. She'd be able to earn her keep. Mr. Montgomery always thought in business terms. And like his daughter, he did nothing that didn't benefit him in return.
"Oh, Rilla she's perfect."
"Who's perfect?" Kimberly asked.
Missy shot the other women a look before answering. "Why, you of course. Who else would we be speaking about?"
"That is so kind of you to say. Is it possible I could get a bath and get out of these clothes?"
Missy ignored the odd glances that passed through the other women’s gazes as they observed her interaction with Kimberly, no doubt wondering why she didn't want Kimberly aware of her plans. Although Mrs Dalton's gaze also held understanding, she patted the back of Missy’s hand.
"Of course. I will get the maid to show you to your rooms and have a bath drawn for you both," Rilla said, pulling on the service cord.
"Can you see to it Missy's room is next door to mine. I'm completely lost without her."
Missy would have loved to
argue the point, if it wasn't for the fact it was true. But she was tired. Tired of being Kimberly’s crutch. Let her lean on someone else for a change, namely Clarkson. They deserved each other.
Chapter 13
In no rush to join the women, both Cal and Clarkson waited by the carriages for the stable boys to arrive. One to return the rented carriage, the other to unshackle the horses and return then to the stables out back.
Clarkson let out a long sigh as he watched Kimberly enter the main house, her dress taking up most of the entrance as she glided through. His eyes stayed on her, until she reached the maid waiting to reunite her with the other women, and they moved out of sight.
The expelled breath was caused by the nagging sensation in his gut. He'd hurt Missy with his bluntness, something he would never consciously do.
But what she said had irked him because every cell in his body screamed to him Missy spoke the truth. He'd taken out his frustration on the one person who didn't deserve it. Missy had always been there for him and he'd let her down in a way they may never come back from. It didn't help that she'd smelled so glorious, the same fragrance as his letters.
The contrast between her and Kimberly’s scent had sent him over a cliff in his mind, tumbling down into a sea of confusion and like a drowning man he'd struggled to resurface, blaming Missy, when he should be blaming Kimberly. Hadn't Missy told him they both carried the same fragrance? Why would Kimberly choose to travel wearing a different scent knowing he'd expect the aroma she doused her letters in?
"What's with the heavy sigh?" Cal asked, yanking Clarkson out of his reverie.
"It's nothing…well, maybe it's something…oh, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." Clarkson pressed his forehead to his brother's shoulder and groaned. "Nothing in my life makes sense, not the war, not peace, nothing. I fear I may lose my mind. I wish I could go back to a different time when my mind was peaceful, how I long for silence."
Cal brought his hand up and rested it on the back of his younger brother's neck and massaged its nape. "Come, little brother, tell me what's troubling you. Maybe I can help. Although to tell you the truth, I can’t think of a time when your mind showed signs of quiet."
Clarkson laughed a bitter, shrilling sound that seemed to catch in his throat. "Believe it or not, brother, there was a time when my only worry was would Kimberly ever love me. I know I always seemed lost in thought when we were younger, but those thoughts were of simple matters. At no time did my brain feel overloaded as it does now." Clarkson raised his head and shoved his hands in his pocket and rocked on his heels.
"Come, let's go for a walk. The women can wait. Maybe if you talk to me, we can find a solution together." Cal eased Clarkson forward by the elbow and aimed him toward the backyard. As they walked, Cal said, "Why don't we start with the thing most pressing on your mind?"
Clarkson stopped moving, paused by thoughts. There were so many things running wild around the space inside his head. But the thing causing the most discomfort was what he said to Missy and her reaction to him thereafter, he didn't want to lose her as a friend. He doubted Cal could do anything about that. It would be useless to even bring it up yet before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling forward.
"It's Missy. I hurt her, and I don't think she's going to forgive me."
"And this troubles you? Why?" Cal tilted his head as he stared into his brother's eyes, furrowing his brow.
Clarkson stared back, blinking. How could Cal ask such a stupid question? "Do you have any idea what she means to me?"
"I think a better question would be, do you know how much she means to you? After all, aren't you supposed to be engaged to Kimberly? Why should a simple spat with Missy create such discomfort in you?"
Clarkson's mouth fell open in wonder. "If any one of my brothers should know why this should trouble me, it should be you, Cal. You know how close we were as children. Missy has always been there for me. She deserved better."
Cal spun on his heels and resumed walking. Clarkson followed. "It seems to me, your focus might be misplaced. Kimberly is your betrothed and she’s the one you need to focus on. As you say, you and Missy have always been friends. I doubt there's much in life that will ever change that. She’ll forgive you in time. Just let her be."
"If it was only that simple. I messed up and made her think she was nothing, she meant nothing. That she lacked purpose, position, status, her presence a mere inconvenience. Everything I tried to say to her came out wrong. I made her feel less than she was, is." Clarkson scratched his head as he searched for more words to describe his failings toward her.
"I ask again, why does she matter?"
"Stop saying that. Missy matters? Because she just does. She's always mattered. She matters to me."
"And there we have it."
"There we have what?" Clarkson eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say more, but could find no more so he shut it again.
"The reason for your problem. Can't you see, you have two women whom you care about and soon you will be sharing a house with both of them. The real question is, which one do you like more?"
"Well, that's a stupid question. The answer is obvious."
"Is it? Then why does it trouble you so much that you may lose Missy, not just as a friend but out of your life. The second the preacher pronounces you and Kimberly man and wife, Missy is free to go and live her life any which way she pleases."
"But I've asked her to stay," Clarkson mumbled to himself. His head snapped to attention when Cal asked the question which was bothering him the most.
"Why? When you have Kimberly?"
"I don't know, I just need her...we need her. Kimberly would be lost without her."
"I think you had it right the first time. It's you who needs her. For as long as I can remember, Missy has always been the one to kiss your booboo. If you had a problem, you would leave our plantation and run the five miles to theirs to see Missy in order to solve it, even after speaking with me. Not forgetting the pact you both made. That's not the kind of promise you make to someone who's simply a friend." Cal slapped Clarkson on the back. "You, my friend, are confused because you think you’re in love with two women who are closer than peas in a pod."
"I'm in love with Missy?" Although Clarkson thought he should feel bewildered, astounded, even awkward by the notion Cal had put forward. But he didn't. The sensation eating at him and firing through his core was acceptance. He did love Missy, inexplicably, but was he in love with Missy?
"Can a man be in love with two women?" The mere thought of it made Clarkson’s head reeled and felt as if being squeezed by a compression machine. His mouth was dry yet his hands were clammy and the tightness to his chest troubled him.
"You tell me. I find it interesting the first name to your lips is Missy. Maybe you should explore that." Cal grinned. "Speaking of love, I've kept the love of my life waiting for long enough. Let's head, back."
"But I'm more confused than when we started talking. All you've succeeded in doing is adding more fuel to my fire—I'm clueless."
"Well, little brother why don't you have a chat with Missy about your predicament. She's your usual go to person."
"You're not funny Cal. Even if I could, I wouldn't go to Missy with something this delicate—"
"I don't see why. You used to take everything to her before."
"That was a long time ago, a different time. Missy has not been my confidant for a few years. The position has now been filled by your wife." Clarkson tipped his hat at Cal. "I'll meet you back in the house later. I need to think." He strode off in the direction of the cherry trees.
Was Calvin right? Was he in love with Missy? How could he be? Missy used to be...was his best friend, and would be again if he could get her to forgive him. Until both Missy and Cal brought up the issue of the promise he'd only ever really thought of it as an alternative to the life he had mapped out for himself. A game of sorts. Like what ifs? Which was how the promise was born and once life was breath
ed into it. It had seemed stupid not to make the vow to honor it.
Clarkson sat under the cherry tree as he'd seen Cal and Rilla do many times. It seemed to work for them as they always seemed happy when out here. Maybe it would work for him.
Chapter 14
Bathed and dressed, Missy made her way to Kimberly's room. She tapped her knuckles gently against the wooden door.
"Come in," came the distant reply inside the room. Missy turned the handle and walked inside. She found Kimberly standing by the window, staring out into the garden. Kimberly didn't turn to face Missy straightaway but gazed soulfully out of the window, her eyes seemed fixed on something out there.
"Is there a problem, Miss Kimberly?"
Kimberly was slow to turn away from the window. She expelled a breath, which fanned out against the glass, then turned to face Missy. There was a look in her eyes Missy had never seen before, but it was soon gone and replaced with its usual sparkle.
"Oh, Missy, in a few months I'll be married. Will you lay with me tonight, like we used to, one last time? So I may draw strength from you in order to continue to do what I must," Kimberly said, walking toward Missy, then clasping her hands. She raised them to her chest. "I will miss our times together, dear friend." Her eyes were sad again. Kimberly's expression chilled Missy's spine.
"Will I not be joining you and Clarkson going to the ranch in the morning? You will still need a chaperone until after you're married. Your words have me confused." And afraid.
Kimberly shook her head. "I'm speaking for after I'm married, silly. After all these years, still you don't understand me."
"I understand you perfectly well. I also know you well enough to know you say nothing, you don't mean."
"I know you find me flaky at times, but trust me, Missy, everything I've done...well, almost everything," Kimberly gave a dry laugh, "was done out of my love for you. Although it may not seem so at times."
Love Letters (Unbridled Book 3) Page 6
