Chapter 24 #2
He felt his chest soar, his heart looping in circles around his body.
For a moment, he saw it clearly, they would be a family, him and Harriet and Phoebe.
He would have Harriet by his side; it would be perfect.
Theodore was about to say something, but Harriet was speaking still, nerves clearly taking hold.
She always babbles when she is nervous. He found his smile broadening, wondering if she would always be nervous around him. He reached towards her, wanting to turn her to face him, but as he did, her next words froze him in place.
“We could grow our family! I love Phoebe dearly, and she will always be like a daughter to me. And well, she has made me realize that I want children of my own. That I have always wanted them. I think it is the missing piece that would complete everything.”
Children. All the warmth left Theodore as ice filled his entire body. “You told me you thought spinsterhood was your future.”
He hated the way he clung to the statement, the way he prayed that her want for a child was something small and easily discarded. That it was not some deep-seated desire.
Raising Phoebe was one thing, but having a child of his own? He had seen what the world was like, seen what his father was like. Two years he had struggled, and it was only because of Harriet that he had managed to start getting things right with Phoebe.
“I know and I did, but I think- no, I know – in my heart of hearts, I wanted children. I have always wanted them, even if I did not think I would find a marriage, I wanted a child. Theodore, I want to be your wife, to give you sons and daughters and to fill our house with laughter. I want to hold children with my cheeks and your eyes.”
Guilt flooded through him as he found himself imagining such a child, picturing a tiny infant with his eyes and Harriet’s smile. It would be so small, so fragile. So easy for him to break.
It would carry a part of him, his weakness. Before Phoebe, he had sworn he would never have children. He did not want to become the same monster as his father, and he did not know how to be any different.
He had trapped Harriet; he saw that now. He had ruined everything for her with his selfishness. He asked her to mother Phoebe, he let himself be too blinded by her to see her heart’s desire and to convince himself that she might be satisfied with only what he offered.
He pictured a future with children, but could only see her tired face, her haggard expression. His base cruelty taking over, his face his father’s. His anger at the noise, the chaos, everything.
And then he imagined Rose. The way the life had drained from her. He thought of how easy it would be for Harriet’s life to drain away. For her to fade, like his mother had, like his sister had.
I cannot lose her.
“I do not want that.” Theodore’s voice came out cold and distant. Of course, she wants more, she wants children of her own – she has never grasped how dangerous I truly am “I will never have children.”
He saw the hurt blossom onto Harriet’s face, and dug his nails into the palms of his hand to keep from reaching for her. His heart slammed against the iron barrier that was his chest, and he forced himself to meet her gaze.
Fear and anger boiled over in him, crashing against him in waves. “
“And what about what I want?” Her voice was little more than a whisper but each word struck him as deeply as if she had shouted.
Theodore felt as though the floor beneath him was crumbling. He had asked her to be a mother to Phoebe after all; this was his fault. He had put the idea in her head. He had been too foolish to see what he was doing.
She deserved a real family. She deserved all the things she had gushed about and so much more. She would be the perfect mother, he had already seen it. If she survives.
The thought made his insides curl and writhe, wriggling into knots that tightened with every breath he took. Anger and frustration boiled through him. He had to make her see.
“If Phoebe is not enough for you-” Theodore began but Harriet interrupted him.
“- you know that is not what I am saying.” Harriet’s anger blazed like the sun. “Do not use my love for her as a weapon. Love is not a pie, Theodore. A child of my own would not change how I feel about her.”
“Then why bring this up?” Theodore retorted. Why could you not be happy with me and Phoebe? “You claim to love her, and yet in the same breath you tell me you want us to be a real family? That you want children of your own. And what then, Phoebe simply fades into the background?”
“How could you think that?” Harriet recoiled as though he had slapped her. “You know I would never, never do that to someone. Is that really what you think of me?”
“I do not know what to think.” What are you doing? He pushed through the voice screaming in her mind. “I thought you were satisfied with this. That you understood our arrangement.”
“That was before you kissed me!” Harriet shouted and now it was Theodore’s turn to recoil.
“We kissed, Theodore. Twice now, and each time I was foolish enough, hopeful enough to think maybe it might mean something. I have thought a hundred times or more that I should ask you, that I should be brave enough to just ask, and each time I have faltered.”
“Ask me what?” Theodore knew what, but he could not stop himself rubbing salt into the open wound between them. I felt it too, can you not see?
He wanted her. He had meant his kisses, lost himself in them, and that was a part of the problem. She was in his thoughts constantly, distracting him, pulling his focus.
But she wanted more than he could give. He was too weak to give her what she wanted. The thought of her with child, of a world without her in it, made his blood run cold.
He would turn into his father, he knew it. He would ruin everything and everyone around him, and all because he had been too selfish to resist his desires.
I have to end this.
Harriet took a step towards him, her hands clenched into fists by her side. It took all of Theodore’s will not to brush his hand against her cheek, sweeping the stray lock of hair that fell across the crimson slowly spreading across her skin.
“I want to be your wife, Theodore. I am asking when you will finally let me be that woman in more than name.” Her eyes were full of steel.
“That is not all you are asking.” Theodore gritted his teeth.
“No. It is not.” There were several beats of silence.
“Do not ask me to do this, Harriet.” Theodore had not meant it to sound like a plea, but it was.
“I just want to you to see me as more than Phoebe’s mother.” Her voice broke and as it did, Theodore felt himself being torn apart.
“I cannot give you what you want,” he said even as it felt like he was stabbing a dagger into his own heart.
He did see her as more than Phoebe’s mother. Of course he did, but though the words longed to escape him, he forced them back.
There is no future. There can be no future.
All he could see on her face was pain, a pain that he had caused with his silly fantasy. He could not ask her to be his wife, to be only that and accept he would not give her a child. It would not be enough, he saw that now, and he had been a deluded fool to think she might have accepted it.
Theodore said nothing.
“I see.” Harriet turned away from him, moving towards the door with her hands curled into fists. “I have my answer. I will never be more than Phoebe’s aunt.”
You are my wife. He wanted to shout it, to tell her that she was all he could think about. That every moment not spent with her felt like a wasted one.
It turned his stomach to a pit of snakes. He swallowed all the things he wanted to tell her, that he knew he could not. “If you want something more, then perhaps this marriage is not the one for you.”
“Perhaps not.” Harriet turned and left the room, and Theodore felt the sun go with her.
The shattered pieces of his heart hung in the silence she left. He told himself that this was for the best. He could not give her what she wanted most, and in time, the pain would ease and they could each return to the safer, more sensible version of their lives.
In time.
How much time? He feared he knew the answer.