Chapter 25 #2
I was afraid to step outside, knowing the possibility of seeing the Abbots, or James, was very real. While I hoped the carriage would arrive soon, I also wanted to see Clara before I left. She usually returned home at this time, but there seemed to be a delay.
I grew impatient, trapped within the stone walls of the cottage.
I shivered, and tightened my cloak around my shoulders.
Where was Clara? Although she didn’t approve of my decision to leave, I needed her here, if only for the company.
I didn’t know how much longer I could bear to be alone with my variable and indecisive thoughts.
Taking a deep, quaking breath, I pushed the door open and stepped outside, dragging my trunk behind me.
I breathed the fresh, chilling air, and walked down the steps to where I could see the sky.
Light snowflakes landed in my hair, in the strands that hung in drab chunks on my shoulders. I stared at the sky. I never thought I’d miss the color. I wondered if I would ever see the same shade again. The thought sent a pang of sadness through my heart.
I didn’t know how long I stood there, breathing the cold air that smelled faintly of fish and sea water, but when I closed my eyes I was hoping, against my will, that I would never forget that smell.
I turned, prepared to retreat back to the doorway, but something caught my eye and set my heart racing.
There, passing the nearest snow blanketed tree—walking straight toward me, was James.
In an instant I turned away and turned back again, caught between being weak and being strong, staying or hiding.
What was he doing here? I had strengthened my barriers, reminded myself of my goals and dreams, and how close I was to finally achieving them.
But all that resolve had already begun to fall apart at the sight of him.
James was moving fast, and soon he would be here beside me, too close and too safe, and I would fall apart.
I begged myself to relax. My legs were already shaking, and my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My rules were disassembled in my head. But they were no use to me now, so I just crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to reach me.
James was only a few paces away now. He stopped, an abrupt change, and I tried not to look too closely at his eyes—at all the things I knew would unravel me. I raised my gaze to his face. I would act as if nothing was wrong. He did not need to know where I was going, or that I was leaving forever.
But the sight of him then, the raw emotion in his expression, told me he already knew. There would be no more pretending. No more lies.
We both just stood there, not speaking, as snow fell all around us—softly, slowly, a barrier that I wished were stronger.
I tightened my grip on my heart.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice shook.
He drew closer, careful and slow. “Your sister told me you’re leaving.”
Of course she had. Didn’t she know I had already made my decision? That seeing James would only bring unnecessary pain to both of us? “Don’t assume you can make me stay,” I blurted. “The carriage will be here soon.”
“I never assumed that. I have learned that no one can make you do something you don’t want to do.” He took a deep breath, his eyes searching my face. “But I’m not entirely convinced that you want to leave.”
I bit my lip against the sudden tears that stung my eyes. “I do.” My voice was quiet and unsure, and I hated the sound.
“Are you certain?”
My eyes snapped up to his face. I regretted looking the moment I did. A broken heart was reflected there, in every line, every inch, and it tore me apart to see it. Then he came closer. His eyes bored into mine, soft and fragile. James had never been fragile. That had always been me.
“Please, Charlotte,” he whispered.
Everything that had been holding me together, every defense, every bar and tightly knotted thread was coming undone.
James had some power over me. He always seemed to pull out the weak and broken things from inside me and make me feel things I didn’t want to feel and hope for things I shouldn’t.
Every thought, every reason I was leaving came pouring out in anger.
“I have to leave!” I cried. “Do you know how long I have waited for this? My mother wants me to come home. She didn’t banish me here forever.
I will go home and finally accomplish everything I have worked for my entire life.
” My voice sounded unfamiliar to my own ears, broken by emotion and stifled sobs.
“I w-won’t fall short again, and I won’t disappoint her!
This is my l-last chance to please her and secure the future I have always wanted.
” I breathed and swiped at my cheeks. “It’s my last chance to show her I can be the d-daughter she wants and then maybe she’ll love me. ”
James reached out and cupped one side of my face with his hand. My body shuddered with another sob, and I was too weak to push him away. My tears fell hot down my cheeks.
“Charlotte, that isn’t love!” James said, shaking his head.
“Approval of meeting expectations isn’t love.
You deserve more. You have undertaken too much and you have become too much.
You are kind and generous and thoughtful, utterly maddening at times, and selfless.
Don’t let her change that. You deserve to be loved for those things, nothing less. ”
I stepped back, away from the warmth of him. I shook my head. “Love is pain and suffering. A weakness. What has it done to you? It has done nothing but break and destroy and hurt. Why should I aspire to that?”
He was quiet for several moments, watching me without an answer. Finally he said, “You’re wrong. Love only does those things when you push it away.” He looked down at me, and a thousand things I didn’t understand were written on his face. “So don’t.”
I stared back at him, the snowflakes on his shoulders and his hair, and the raw heartache in his eyes.
How easy it would be to say yes, to be wrapped in his arms and never leave.
I hadn’t known it would be this hard. My heart beat fast, like wings learning to fly, trying desperately to escape my chest and land safely in his hands.
“No. No!” I stepped even farther away and wrapped my arms around myself. “I need more than that.”
“You think you need wealth and prestige to be happy? Don’t make such a mistake. Those things won’t last.”
“And love will? How can you say that, James? How after all Mary did to you?”
That silenced him. He stepped back, rubbing his face, and then he drew a ragged breath. “Because she never loved me. Not really. If she had, she would never have made the choice she did.”
“That cannot be true.” My voice was hard and cold. “Perhaps she was just stronger than her heart. She needed more.”
“More than me?” James’s eyes were framed in betrayal and sorrow. “And is that what you need too? Is that what you want?”
I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t a fair question.
He didn’t know the truth and I could never let him know it.
If he knew I loved him, then he would never let me leave.
He was still standing several steps away, and I shivered in the cold.
I kept my lips pressed tight as quiet tears ran down my cheeks and fell from my chin, not willing to answer. I had lied to him too much already.
“Charlotte,” he ran his hand over his hair. “Please stay. You will learn how to be happy.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head.
I looked up at him and immediately wished I hadn’t.
His eyes glistened, his jaw firm. “I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”
My heart pounded fast, and he drew a step closer.
“I’m begging you to stay,” he finished.
I ached with longing everywhere, but there was danger in the unknown.
It would haunt me forever. Not knowing what I was abandoning by staying here.
Not knowing the life I could have had. I closed my eyes and I could see it.
My dreams, my pursuits and ambitions, approval and happiness. Never had I been so conflicted.
I searched my mind for any reason that his declaration could be false. “How can that be true? You said you couldn’t love. Not again.” I was shaking my head.
James gave an exasperated sigh. “I was afraid. I have seen so much heartache, so much pain and suffering at the hands of love. My brother’s late wife.
And Mary. I was afraid of what you were doing to my heart.
” His eyes met mine, careful. “I was falling in love with you more, day after day, but I knew how much you hated me. I knew that I was not worthy in your eyes. I knew, too well, how acutely you would come to hate me for what I caused to happen to your hand.”
“James! Please don’t. That was not your fault.” I pleaded with my eyes. “I don’t hate you. I never will.”
“But you don’t love me.” His voice was final, a statement begging to be contradicted. His eyes pulled at mine, as if he were waiting for an answer.
There was nothing I could say. He couldn’t know the truth.
Not this time. I did love him. I knew it with sudden certainty.
The thought crossed my mind again—the question of staying or leaving.
No. No. My decision had been made. I couldn’t let James reverse that decision!
I couldn’t let something as fickle as love change that decision.
The pain stung me anew, and a fresh wave of sobbing choked me and I turned away from him.
“I-I’m leaving. You can’t change my mind.
I’ll f-forget everything. I’ll forget the village and the grey skies and the s-sea and this house.
I’ll forget the Abbots and their kindness and their pianoforte.
I’ll forget my lost fingers and lost music.
I’ll forget everything I’ve lost and everything I’ll never have again.
I’ll forget the p-pain and suffering and sorrow.
And eventually I believe I can even forget you. ”
There was a brief lapse of time, a moment of indecision, before James moved. One step and one breath before he was there, my face in his hands, and he was kissing me.
His lips were soft at first, then more determined.
He reached around my waist, pulling me against him.
Without permission, my left hand clutched his jacket, and my other hand rested at his neck, his hair, a broken hand that he didn’t mind at all.
His kiss was all desperation and heart, a warmth that reached to my bones, begging me for something I couldn’t give.
I tasted the salt of tears on his lips, mine or his, I couldn’t tell.
My legs were shaking beneath me and I trembled in his arms.
I knew this needed to stop. Now. It was wrong, it wasn’t fair. And then his lips slowed, his kisses so gentle my heart broke all over again, and he pulled away, just far enough that I could see his eyes and the tears that shone there.
“But you won’t forget that,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
I sighed, a shaky sound, and allowed myself a moment to feel, to love and be loved. I pressed my face into his shoulder, breathing the smell of him, trying to memorize it before it was too late. I knew what I was doing. I was making the right choice. It was the only choice I was capable of.
“Goodbye, James.” My voice cracked.
I waited three seconds, then pushed myself away, crossing my arms over my chest again. I didn’t dare look at his face because of how close—how very close—I was to letting him change my mind.
The rattling of wheels called my attention, and I saw the carriage, the one meant to take me home, rolling down the road toward us.
I turned and took hold of the handle of my trunk.
My arm shook as I dragged it behind me, leaving a trail in the new snow as the coach stopped in front of my little cottage.
I bit back the tears that came and tried not to think about James standing there alone in the snow. But then my trunk lifted behind me.
I turned, surprised to see him carrying it. My hand fell away and something broke inside me.
He always was too kind.
His jaw was set, and his eyes flickered to me one more time as he helped the coachman strap it to the back of the carriage. He knew I had made my choice.
I stepped inside the carriage, where my maid Anna sat, sent to accompany me.
The door was still open, and I wanted to thank James, to apologize, to say anything, but nothing seemed to be enough.
I just looked at him as he walked away, memorizing every detail, and altering the stooped shoulders to be strong, and the tears I had seen in his eyes to be ones of laughter.
I didn’t want to remember him this way. I wished I hadn’t broken his heart.
I tore my gaze away as the carriage rolled forward.
Don’t look back, I ordered myself. Don’t look back.
But I panicked, disobedient, and sneaked one more glance at him.
He just stood there, watching me leave until I couldn’t see him anymore and he couldn’t see me.
He was gone. I had been holding my breath, so I let it out, slowly, a hitched sound that resembled a sob.
As we barreled down the road toward home, I looked out the carriage window and watched the flakes of snow fall. And then I counted them.