Heart of Glass

by Jill Marie Landis

  The boy was visibly shaken and well beyond Colin’s reach. Does the child really think I would hit him?

  “Help me to the settee, will you?” Colin waited as the girl crossed the room to stand beside him. Only then did Damian sidle up closer. The two exchanged a glance and then each put an arm around Colin, lightly to be sure, but they made an effort to help.

  Once he’d lowered himself to the settee and the children were shoulder to shoulder in front of him, he rested both hands on the handle of his cane and looked at each in turn.

  “You have my solemn promise that I will never hit you. Do you understand?”

  Neither of them moved.

  “Do you?”

  Marie nodded.

  “You won’t?” Damian stared in disbelief.

  “I will not. I promise.”

  “Even if we’re very bad?”

  “What do you mean, very bad?”

  Damian shrugged. “Like that.” He pointed at the table and broken figurine.

  “That was an accident, correct?”

  They nodded.

  “Then you didn’t intentionally break that … whatever it was.”

  “A little dog. Aunt Kate said it was one of her favorite things from a long time ago.”

  “You didn’t mean to break it. But you will take more care when you are playing in the house, and you will have to apologize to her when she returns.”

  “Maybe we can glue the biggest pieces back together.” Marie fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve.

  The cuff was tattered. He would speak to Eugenie about it.

  “When is Aunt Kate coming back?” Damian asked.

  “I’ve been wondering that myself,” Colin mumbled. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Kate’s absence wasn’t sitting well with him. She’d been gone for nearly three days now, and the house was empty without her. He found himself watching the road, listening for the sound of her voice.

  With the storm and impassible roads, it didn’t seem likely she’d be returning anytime soon. Both children looked disappointed when he told them as much.

  “I’d like you to stand the table up, Damian,” he instructed. “When you are finished, go out to the kitchen and ask Eugenie for a broom and dustpan, and sweep up. Your sister will help you.”

  “That’s all?” the boy asked. “You really aren’t going to whip us?”

  “I gave you my word.” Before the boy turned to go to the kitchen Colin asked, “Have you ever been whipped?”

  Damian nodded. “My daddy took a switch to us a lot. He didn’t tolerate any misbehaving.”

  Colin’s hands tightened on his cane. He wished Billy Hart was standing before him instead of the boy. He’d have a thing or two to impress upon a man who whipped his children.

  “I won’t tolerate misbehavior either,” Colin assured Damian. “But there are other ways to punish. Believe me, I’ve experienced a good many of them myself.”

  “Like what?” Damian wanted to know.

  “I spent more than a few hours with my nosed pressed against the wall. Once when I was six, my father caught me chewing tobacco and made me fill half a glass with spit before I was free to go. It was terrible.” Colin stopped talking when he noticed Damian’s eyes were wide with trepidation.

  When the boy left to collect the broom and dustpan, Marie sighed. Colin patted the settee beside him and she sat down after a long hesitation.

  “Have you come to see Mama?” She studied her hands folded in her lap.

  “How is she today?”

  “Not very good. She sleeps a lot.”

  He hated seeing Amelie so weak.

  “Uncle Colin?” the girl whispered.

  “You really need to speak up, you know. I could go deaf straining to hear you.”

  She nodded and raised her voice a bit. “What will we do if … if something happens to Mama?” Huge tears pooled in her eyes and began to slip down her cheeks.

  Unable to stand the sight of her tears, Colin reached over and thumbed them away. She reminded him of a young version of his own mother and seemed just as vulnerable.

  “What will we do?” Colin paused. He could lie and tell them Amelie would recover. Or he could be honest. Colin took a deep breath. “We’ll do what we all have to do and we will survive. You and your brother will be in my care.”

  “Will we live here?” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

  He couldn’t say for sure. He had no idea what was going to happen to Belle Fleuve.

  “Wherever we go, we’ll be together.”

  “Aunt Kate too. Mama said Aunt Kate promised to take care of us.”

  It was his turn to sigh. “I’m not sure about that.”

  The girl’s face puckered into a frown.

  “Of course Aunt Kate will look out for you too,” Colin was quick to add.

  The weight of the old house seemed to press down on him from every angle. He hadn’t put much thought into everything Damian and Marie would need. Their clothing was worn and almost too small for them. If he were forced to move out now, he’d have to rent a larger flat. There would be schooling to think about, not to mention boots and shoes and a thousand things he’d never thought about before.

  His pledge to marry Kate and raise the children had been purely for Amelie’s peace of mind. But how could he actually raise two children with his own future so uncertain?

  Maybe it would be better to hand them over into Kate’s care and not look back. As close as she was to his sister, Kate was the logical choice as guardian. Besides, Kate would never have to worry where their next meal was coming from.

  Damian returned with a broom and long-handled dustpan.

  “Uncle Colin, can we hunt for the treasure?”

  Colin pulled his scattered thoughts together. “I doubt there is any pirate treasure around here.”

  “No.” The boy shook his head. “Grandmere Delany’s treasure. Mama told us Grandmere buried her treasures so the Yankees wouldn’t steal them.”

  “She did?” Colin couldn’t imagine his mother burying anything herself.

  “That’s what Mama says. So can I dig for treasure in the garden?”

  “After Marie helps you clean up the floor.” As an afterthought Colin added, “Don’t hurt the flowers, though.”

  He felt Marie tug lightly at his sleeve.

  “Uncle Colin, you should go and see how Mama is doing.”

  “You’re right.” He wasn’t looking forward to standing, let alone negotiating the stairs again.

  “I’ll help you,” she said softly, “if you’d like.”

  Surprised at her offer, he was just as shocked when he felt something stirring in the empty space where his heart used to be.

  “That would be kind of you. I believe I would like some help.”

  At the top of the stairs he saw the apprehension on Marie’s face as she stared at the door to her mother’s room. He sent her back down to help Damian sweep up and was about to open the door when Eugenie stepped out of the room. Her face was drawn, her eyes downcast.

  “How is she?” Suddenly Colin had no desire to go into Amelie’s room.

  Eugenie sniffed and wiped her eyes with a hankie that appeared from her apron pocket.

  “Not good, Mr. Colin. Not good at all. She’s in and out now. I’m not sure she knows where she is anymore.”

  He leaned heavily against his cane and wished Kate were here.

  “What are we going to do?” Eugenie wanted to know.

  He told her what he’d told Amelie’s children.

  “We’re going to do what we have to do.”

  “I sure hope Miss Kate comes back soon. She was bound and determined to find a doctor who could help.”

  Colin’s wish that Kate were here was not because she’d promised to bring help. It was because she loved Amelie as much as the rest of them. Amelie needed her dear friend beside her right now, and Kate should be here to say good-bye.

  The war had taken every vestige of whatever softness
Colin had once had inside him. Kate’s presence filled the empty space he left behind with the love and hope they all needed — things he could never give.

  TEN

  The storm stranded Kate in New Orleans for six days, and afterward the Mississippi was running too fast for steamboat travel. But Kate ignored the dire warnings not to travel, hired a carriage, and insisted the driver take her back to Belle Fleuve.

  Lingering squalls made the roads barely passable. With Dr. Jonathon Ward accompanying her, the journey was nearly unbearable. The man droned on the entire way. Kate tried to ignore him, catching only bits and pieces of his ongoing monologue.

  “… or so the ancient Egyptians thought. Antiquities and medicine go hand in hand, as far as I’m concerned. There is so much modern man doesn’t know that …”

  After having spent hours in his company, Kate feared he was more than a bit delusional, but what mattered most was Amelie. If Dr. Ward’s insane notions brought her friend even a modicum of relief, then the exorbitant fee she’d agreed to pay him would be well worth it. Since her meeting with Dan Rosen, that fee weighed heavily on her mind.

  The journey took twice as long as usual. Trees were downed along the route, though there weren’t any they couldn’t carefully skirt. There were also a few harrowing moments when one of the carriage wheels became mired in mud, but finally they arrived. The driver pulled up to the house and Kate scrambled out without waiting for him to assist.

  She took a deep breath and let her gaze sweep the tall white columns standing sentry across the front gallery. To her Belle Fleuve was not as worn as a favorite pair of old shoes, but as grand as it used to be. Warmed by a feeling of homecoming, she reminded herself she was only there for Amelie, only at Belle Fleuve for as long as her friend needed her.

  She had no regrets. She was satisfied knowing in her heart that Belle Fleuve would survive a few years longer, with or without her.

  “Oh, my.” The doctor took in the condition of the house. “I’m not certain …”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be well compensated, Dr. Ward. Come with me.”

  Anxious to escape the light mist, Kate lifted her gown and made her way across the crushed oyster drive with the portly man close on her heels. He clutched the velvet-lined box containing his healing stone against his brocade vest.

  The heels of Kate’s ankle-high boots clipped against the brick floor as she crossed the lower gallery. The front door opened before Kate touched the handle.

  She smiled when Myra answered the door, but noticed Myra’s shoulders were drooped, her steps slow. Kate took a deep breath. Myra’s apparent exhaustion was perfectly understandable; she’d been cooped up in the house for several days with two children to entertain and Amelie to worry about.

  “I’ve found a wonderful doctor,” Kate said as she breezed into the main room. She began to pull off her gloves. “If you could ask the driver to pile up the boxes and my bag … oh! And I have some drawings too. I must take Dr. Ward up to see Amelie immediately.”

  Myra’s lips worked but she made no sound. Kate’s smile faltered. It was impossible to ignore Myra’s swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

  “Praise God you’re home.” Myra grabbed Kate’s hand. “We didn’t think you would be back in time.”

  Kate’s stomach dropped. She pressed her lips together and fought off a wave of dizziness. She took a deep breath and ignored the warning bells clanging inside her.

  Myra cleared her throat. “She’s taken a turn for the worse. There is nothing—”

  Kate started shaking and couldn’t stop.

  “It’s a blessing you made it back,” Myra finished.

  “Where’s Colin?”

  “Upstairs with his sister. The children are there too. They dare not leave her now.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Keene.” Doctor Ward edged closer to Kate. It was a moment before she recalled why he was here.

  Kate grabbed his sleeve. “Hurry, Doctor. Bring that crystal of yours.” She brushed past Myra.

  All the way up the stairs she prodded the doctor to move faster. He huffed and puffed and when they reached the top, Kate raced along the gallery to Amelie’s room with Dr. Ward on her heels.

  She skidded to a stop at the door to Amelie’s room. Colin was seated on a chair beside the bed. Marie was poised on a stool near her mother’s pillow, and little Damian was half-draped across the other side of the bed.

  “Colin.”

  “Kate.” Sorrow pooled in his eyes. He sounded relieved to see her.

  She walked into the room. “I’ve found a doctor willing to help.”

  Kate expected Dr. Ward to be right behind her. She turned and saw him framed in the doorway. She followed his horrified gaze, taking in the pile of bloody towels on Amelie’s bedside table and the washbowl of water stained bright red. He started backing away.

  “I’d like to speak to you in private, Miss Keene.” He clutched his silly box.

  “Dr. Ward, I expect you to—”

  “There’s nothing I can do,” he mumbled. “Nothing.”

  Kate wanted to snatch what was left of his hair off his head.

  “Kate, please.” Colin’s voice was low but it carried. “Come back inside now.”

  She closed her eyes. Colin and the children. Those faces. They knew. They were willing to face what she couldn’t. They were braver than she, truer to Amelie than she had been.

  Kate took a deep breath. She spoke to Dr. Ward without looking at him.

  “Go outside and tell the driver you’ll be returning to New Orleans with him.” She sounded calm and assured, but the words drifted out of someone else entirely. Inside she had shattered into countless pieces.

  The man hesitated. “But what about my—”

  Kate whipped around. “I will see that you are fully compensated for your time. You have my word. Now go.”

  As he hurried down the gallery, his footsteps clattered on the stairs. Kate smoothed the front of her skirt, then reached up and removed her hat. Myra suddenly appeared beside her, and Kate handed over her hat and gloves. The children never took their eyes off Amelie.

  Amelie’s eyes fluttered opened. She looked at Kate and rasped, “Good. You are … home.”

  “Tell me a story, Mama.” Damian begged. “Please?”

  “Damian, let your mother rest.” Myra started toward the boy.

  Colin held up his hand. “Let him be. Please.”

  Amelie’s breath was ragged. She smiled up at her boy. “How about … I rest. You … tell me a story.”

  “But you tell them better.”

  “Now it’s your turn.”

  Marie lowered her head to the bed and buried her face in her arm. Damian climbed up beside his mother. Kate covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed a sob.

  Damian touched Amelie’s cheek. “Which story would you like? Blackbeard?”

  Her eyes fluttered as she fought to open them again and failed.

  “Cinderella,” she whispered.

  Damian sighed. “All right.” Stretched out beside his mother, he stacked his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. “Once upon a time in a small village in …” He paused. “Where is it, Marie?”

  “France,” she whispered.

  “Once upon a time in a village in France …”

  Kate wrapped her arms around her waist. Amelie’s eyes remained closed. Her chest rose and fell, each breath a struggle until she was gone. Damian went on unaware.

  Colin remained completely still, leaning forward with his forearms propped on his thighs, his fingers laced together. Was he praying? Marie’s muffled sobs and Damian’s valiant voice were the only sounds in the room.

  “And they lived happily ever after.” Damian looked at Colin, then Kate, then raised himself up on his elbow. He traced his fingertips along his mother’s face.

  “Uncle Colin?”

  It was a moment before Colin said, “What, Damian?”

  “Mama’s not asleep, is she?”

  C
olin turned to Kate with a universe full of questions in his eyes. What Kate wanted was to break down and sob for her own loss, to be alone, to face her own grief head on. But Marie was crying uncontrollably, Damian’s hand was pressed to his mother’s cheek, and Colin was silently pleading for help.

  Somehow she walked to his chair to stand behind him. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, he cleared his throat. The silence in the room stretched taut.

  Kate looked at her best friend, at the sister of her heart. For the first time since Amelie arrived she looked at peace. As if she might just be asleep, dreaming a wonderful dream.

  Damian was still waiting for an answer.

  Colin reached up and grabbed Kate’s hand.

  She struggled to smile for Damian, struggled and failed.

  “No, honey,” she said. “She’s not asleep. Your mama’s gone.”

  They laid Amelie out in the front sitting room for visitation. Kate changed into a black mourning gown and avoided going downstairs again for as long as she could. Once there she recognized the cloying scent of Eugenie’s myrtle berry candles, the sickly sweet perfume of jasmine filling the first floor rooms. The windows in the sitting room were covered. Myra, also wearing a severe black gown, the same one she had worn after Gil Keene’s death, was waiting for her on the gallery.

  Myra walked over, took Kate’s arm, and tried to lead her farther into the room. But as the heavy candle scent wafted over Kate, her feet failed her. She looked around the room.

  Eugenie and Simon stood against the back wall. Eugenie held a dishtowel against her mouth to muffle her sobs. The children, stiff and silent, were seated side by side not far from Amelie. She looked like a life-sized doll laid out in the center of the room on long planks covered with various pieces of sheets and tablecloths. Her hands were folded around a bouquet of her mother’s precious yellow roses.

  Colin was seated near his sister. As soon as he saw Kate in the doorway, he pushed himself slowly to his feet. She knew what the move cost him, but didn’t protest. Her knees trembled so hard she hadn’t the strength of will to take another step.

  Colin’s dark eyes were shadowed with pain and grief as he slowly stood and made his way over to her, one measured step at a time. She had thought him broken before, but today they were both shattered. Once Colin was beside her on the gallery, Myra returned to the children.