Heart of Glass

by Jill Marie Landis

  “I remember you,” he said to Colin. “I was here when you first came in a few months ago. I found that letter in the file and gave it to you myself.”

  Colin didn’t recognize the man, but he wouldn’t have recognized himself when he returned to New Orleans. The crowd in the office had doubled in size. Beside him Jason stared at the receipt of payment. The amount he owed Kate was more than he could hope to pay back for years.

  “You look like someone could knock you down with a feather right now. You didn’t know?” Jason asked.

  “I didn’t know,” Colin mumbled. She didn’t tell me.

  Shock blocked out everything. Even the pain in his ankle.

  “I’ll write up a letter for you. Proof that you’re all paid up.” When the clerk handed Colin the letter and carried the file away, Colin couldn’t face Jason. Letter in hand, he turned to leave and was forced to walk past the long line of men — men with hats in hand, men with no one to bail them out. Men wearing tailored suits with frayed cuffs and hems. Men who were about to lose everything.

  They stared at him in silence as he walked out.

  Even if Colin forgave Kate, would he ever forget?

  “Think about what I’ve said, will you?” Jason’s voice brought Colin back to the present. “Throwing away happiness would be worse than any humiliation life hands you. It’s not a shame to accept help, Colin. Not when it’s freely given.”

  Not if the giver is honest about it.

  “Tell Cora that I’m sorry for keeping you so late. Daylight has slipped away.”

  “Solstice is almost here. The days will soon grow longer again.”

  Every day was too long without Kate.

  Colin watched his old friend ride away.

  Mention of solstice was a reminder that Christmas would be on them in a few days. Even with two children under his roof Colin had no plans for a celebration other than a midday meal with the Boltons on Christmas Day. His mother had loved the season and had celebrated as her ancestors had done by holding a grand feast, le réveillon, on Christmas Eve. Eugenie had directed as the kitchen slaves prepared roast goose and oyster gumbo. There were rich egg dishes and delicate pastries. As a child Colin’s favorite had been a cake in the shape of a log, the bûche de Noël, like the birch log traditionally burned in the fireplace on Christmas Eve.

  He couldn’t imagine trying to replicate the festivities on his own, especially so soon after Amelie’s death. Certainly not without Kate.

  Colin pictured Kate hurrying from room to room, making certain the house was festively decorated, instigating the baking of sweets and treats, hanging mistletoe for luck over the front door.

  But Kate wasn’t here, and whatever Colin attempted without her would fall short of pleasing the children.

  Damian and Marie had returned so buoyant after their visit that he was glad he had let them go. Showing off their keepsakes, they took turns relating stories of the open carriage ride and picnic in Jackson Square. Colin had never seen Marie so animated. Damian went on and on about the St. Charles rotunda, the pirate Jean Lafitte’s blacksmith shop, and their ride on the steamboat packet. It wasn’t until the boy had mentioned Captain Stevens at the dock that Colin’s mood soured again.

  That dark mood had settled in and stayed. Captain Ezekiel Stevens had sent Colin his regards, but apparently Kate had not. Was she seeing Stevens now? Was she making a new life for herself?

  If so, he had no one but himself to blame.

  Colin went directly upstairs to the children. Pausing outside their room he heard Damian ask Marie, “Do you think we’ll see Aunt Kate for Christmas? It’s almost here.”

  Marie’s voice was so soft Colin had to hold his breath to hear her response.

  “I’m not sure. He hasn’t said anything.”

  “Do you think she’ll like my presents?”

  “Of course. She likes everything.”

  “Do you think she’ll have gifts for us?”

  “Of course.”

  Gifts. Colin hadn’t thought of gifts. His obsessions were sugarcane and Kate. Simon had just this morning asked if they could butcher two of the hogs for a Christmas barbeque for the field hands and their families. At least there would be festivities in the cabins.

  But if Colin denied the children another visit with Kate, their Christmas would be bleak indeed.

  They fell silent as he walked into the room.

  “Eugenie tells me you are ready for bed.” In their nightclothes, they were already perched on their beds. It wasn’t his nature to be as lighthearted or nurturing as Kate. No matter how deep her sorrow, she had always tried to keep her spirit up when around them.

  He sat at the end of Damian’s bed. Both children scrambled out from beneath the covers and knelt to say their prayers. Colin knew what was coming. He’d endured the nightly ritual alone for nearly two months now.

  Marie folded her hands and went first. “God bless Mama and watch over her. Bless Granny and Grandpa Hart and don’t let them miss us too much. Bless Eugenie and Simon and the Boltons and baby Jake. Bless Uncle Colin and keep him safe, and please bless Aunt Kate. Keep her from missing us too much. Please, please bring her home for Christmas.”

  Damian pressed his forehead against his folded hands. He glanced up at Colin before he closed his eyes.

  “Dear God, bless Granny and Grandpa Hart. Bless Eugenie and please let her make pralines soon. Bless Simon and keep him strong and healthy so he can make more toys. Bless baby Jake and Jason and Cora. Please make the sugarcane grow so Uncle Colin won’t be so worried all the time, and make his ankle all better.”

  Apparently everyone was aware of Colin’s worries.

  Damian wasn’t finished. “And God, please guide me to the buried treasure. I really, really need to find it so I can buy a steamboat and go see Aunt Kate whenever I want.”

  “And please bring us all together to celebrate Jesus’ birthday,” Marie whispered.

  As their amens faded, the children climbed back into bed. Still awkward with his duty, Colin smoothed their blankets over them and kissed them on their foreheads.

  “The way Mama used to,” they had instructed the first time. “The way Aunt Kate does.”

  As he walked across the room to snuff the lamp, a piece of paper crunched beneath his boot. He picked it up, expecting it to be one of Marie’s projects.

  It was a letter from Kate, written in her bold, even script.

  “That’s mine,” Marie said.

  The letter burned in Colin’s hand.

  “When did this come?”

  “Right after we saw her. Eugenie gave it to me.”

  Without mentioning it.

  “Have you gotten many letters from Kate?”

  Marie shook her head. “Just the one.”

  “She isn’t lying,” Damian added.

  “I didn’t think she was.” Colin started to place the letter on their low worktable, but hesitated. “May I … read it?”

  Marie hesitated. “Yes.”

  He quickly scanned the short missive written the day of their visit.

  Dear ones,

  I was so happy to see you today. Please thank your uncle for letting you come to visit. I so hope I will see you again soon. It’s my fondest wish that we’ll be together again at Christmastime.

  Your loving Aunt Kate

  Marie hadn’t passed on Kate’s thank-you.

  Colin carefully folded the page and set it on the table, said good-night again, and snuffed out the lamp. Alone on the upper gallery, he began to pace.

  It’s my fondest wish that we’ll be together again at Christmastime.

  All of us, Kate? Or just you and the children? Was the letter an appeal for him to let her spend Christmas at Belle Fleuve?

  After Marie and Damian’s visit, Kate made it a point to sort through the boxes she had not unpacked in ages. It was time to get rid of things. Many she decided to sell on consignment at a nearby secondhand shop, and clearing out gave her an opportunity to f
ind the lovely doll her father had given her.

  Complete with blonde human hair, eyes that opened and closed, a beautifully painted bisque head, and an exquisite gown with layers and layers of lace and ruffles, the doll would make a perfect gift for Marie.

  Kate had no idea what to buy for Damian, and as it turned out, she was thankful she left it until the last minute. On the eighteenth of December a letter from the Prairie Home magazine arrived for her at Roger Jamison’s office announcing that her plans for a country home had won first prize.

  Along with a year’s subscription to the periodical, she received a draft for one hundred dollars and the news that her drawings would be displayed at county fairs all over the western states.

  A day later, a letter from Colin was waiting for her at the St. Charles. She broke the seal before her courage failed her and held her breath as she read the brief note he’d written himself.

  Dear Kate,

  I will be sending the children to celebrate an early Christmas with you. Eugenie and Simon will accompany them on the twenty-second of December. They will meet you as before around 11:00 a.m. in the vestibule of the St. Charles.

  They are looking forward to spending a few hours with you. They speak of nothing else. I hope this missive finds you well.

  Colin

  Had he cast her out of his heart as well as his home? Had he moved the redhead in?

  Kate read the letter over and over, wishing he’d said something personal, wanting there to be more than I hope this missive finds you well.

  Finally she tucked the letter away. There was no time to waste on maudlin thoughts. She had less than three days to prepare.

  Apparently he didn’t want her at Belle Fleuve so she would have to make the best of what she’d been given. Her prize money would help give the children a grand afternoon. She purchased a set of lead soldiers made by Mignot from Paris for Damian. As she wrapped the large wooden box, she pictured the boy and Colin lining up the figures together, hoping Colin would make time to play.

  By eleven-twenty, as Kate waited beneath the rotunda with the children’s gifts, she feared they were not coming. Since receiving Colin’s letter she’d been plagued with worry. It was one thing for Eugenie to travel with the children with Cora along, but on her own or even with Simon it could prove dangerous. Freedom had been hard won, but things were far from peaceable under the Reconstruction government and martial law. The thought of the pair escorting two white children to New Orleans had had Kate tossing and turning all night.

  “Aunt Kate!” It was Damian’s shout.

  She spotted the children running to greet her and quickly set the gifts on the floor. When they barreled into her she hugged them close. Expecting to see Eugenie and Simon, she realized they were most likely waiting outside.

  After many hugs Damian cried, “Are those presents?”

  Kate picked up the gifts and when she straightened, juggling the packages, she found herself looking up into Colin’s eyes.

  For a moment neither of them spoke. Colin — who was also holding wrapped parcels — nodded. Kate struggled to find her tongue.

  “Kate. Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “Merry Christmas, Colin.” She finally remembered to smile. He was far more collected than she. His appraisal was cool and distant.

  “Eugenie couldn’t come. She’s ill,” he said.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “I have a feeling she began to recover as soon as we left.”

  Both children immediately demanded her attention, so Kate could not ask what he meant. There were so many questions to answer: yes, they could open their gifts soon; no, they were not going back to the park; yes, she was certain she would love the gifts they brought.

  Was Colin really here? Kate ached at the image of him with the hard-eyed redhead on his arm, but this wasn’t the time or the place to mention it.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I made a reservation for dinner here at the hotel,” she said.

  “If you’d rather be alone with the children …”

  “Uncle Colin, don’t go.” Marie’s smile had vanished. “We should all be together.”

  “Please, Colin,” Kate barely whispered. “We don’t have very long, not if you still plan to leave later this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I do still plan on that. We must get back.”

  “I understand,” Kate said.

  “The hotel dining room will be fine.”

  She could tell her plan was anything but fine.

  Colin followed Kate and the children into the main dining room at the St. Charles, where Kate was immediately relieved of her packages.

  “I’ll just carry these for you, Mrs. Delany, if I may.” The maître d’ greeted Kate with familiarity and nodded at Colin. “If you will all follow me, we’ve arranged for you to have your favorite table.”

  They were promptly seated at a table covered in damask and set with cut-crystal goblets with gold-embossed rims, sterling silver polished to a high sheen, and a centerpiece of holiday greenery.

  Surrounded by opulence, Colin thought Kate was still the crown jewel. Not once did her smile falter as she gave both children her attention.

  Awed by their surroundings, Marie leaned close to Kate and whispered, “May we open our presents before we eat?”

  “Of course. I can’t wait either.” Kate excused the waiter hovering at her elbow.

  Colin had yet to open his menu. He doubted he had brought enough money to cover dinner for the children, let alone for all of them. Once more he found himself in an embarrassing situation.

  Kate handed Marie a large box. The smaller one was for Damian. Colin watched Damian appraise the difference in sizes. Before he could stress manners, Kate touched Damian’s hand.

  “Your box is a bit smaller but I promise it has lots inside,” she said.

  Damian smiled. “Can I go first?”

  Kate turned to Marie. “Is that all right with you?”

  Marie nodded. “I think he might burst if he has to wait.”

  Damian ripped the tissue off the package and then took great care lifting the lid of the polished wooden box to reveal a legion of lead soldiers complete to the last detail. He fingered each of them, touched the point of their sabers, and then began to take them out.

  “Best you leave them in the box,” Colin advised, “until you get home.”

  “Will you play with me?”

  Colin glanced at Kate. She had given the boy something she thought they could enjoy together.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  Damian was all smiles. He got out of his chair so that he could hug Kate and then took his seat again. “Now you,” he said to Marie.

  She took her time, carefully unwrapping the doll. Colin watched Kate. Behind her spectacles, her eyes sparkled with joy. Her cheeks were flushed.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Uncle Colin?”

  “Yes. She’s beautiful.” It was a second before Colin realized Marie was speaking about her doll.

  Marie stood the doll on her lap, careful not to knock anything off the table. “Thank you, Aunt Kate.”

  Kate straightened the lace on the doll’s bodice.

  “I’m glad you like her.”

  “Does she have a name?” Marie asked.

  “You can name her anything you like but I used to call her Lovie. I named her after my oldest sister. She had blonde curls too.”

  “Then I’ll call her Lovie.” Marie smoothed her hand over the doll’s curls. “It’s the perfect name for her. Thank you so much.”

  Kate hugged the girl and helped her rewrap the doll.

  Colin stared at Kate. Was she really as calm and collected as she seemed? Or were her insides as unsettled as his? Hopefully he could string more than two words together when they were forced to converse again. Hearing her voice and looking into her eyes had left him in a daze.

  “Uncle Colin!”

  Damian demanded his attention. “Yes?”

 
“I said, would you please give Aunt Kate my presents?”

  Colin reached for two small parcels wrapped in plain brown paper and handed them across the table to Kate.

  “Those are from me,” Damian said proudly.

  Kate opened the first, turning it round and round in her hands.

  “I’m sure you recognize it,” Colin said, trying to jog her memory.

  “Is it the Staffordshire dog that was in the sitting room?”

  “You guessed! I glued it back together for you.” Damian was thrilled with his success.

  “I see that,” Kate glanced over at Colin.

  “It had a run-in with a pirate,” he said.

  “That was an accident,” Damian shrugged. “Accidents happen. That’s what Uncle Colin says.”

  Marie studied the piece in Kate’s hand.

  “His head is glued on backwards,” she noted.

  “That’s all right,” Colin said.

  “It’s just fine,” Kate said at the same time.

  They both fell silent.

  “Because he’s looking backwards now,” Damian explained.

  Colin caught Kate fighting a smile.

  “Now he can see if any pirates are sneaking up on him.” Kate rewrapped the figurine carefully.

  “Will you keep it in your room and think of me?” Damian wanted to know.

  “Of course.” Kate reached for the second package. “But I always think of you without any reminders.”

  Colin wanted to look away but couldn’t.

  “I think of all of you all the time,” she added.

  He had to take a deep breath to restart his heart.

  Kate opened the second gift from Damian and held up a necklace of peanuts in the shell strung on a piece of twine. Each peanut was painted a different color.

  “How lovely!” She carefully drew the peanut necklace over her hat and head until it rested on her shoulders.

  “I made it,” Damian announced. “Eugenie helped me string ‘em and Marie let me use her watercolors.”

  Diamond earrings dangled above the peanuts, but Kate wore the necklace just as regally. Colin was lost.

  Next she opened a set of paintings from Marie, scenes from the gardens at Belle Fleuve.

  “Thank you, Marie,” Kate said. “You’ve gotten quite good. I’ll treasure these always.” Her eyes glistened suspiciously bright as she studied the paintings.