Fated Memories (6 page)

With a heavy heart she turned away, unable to stay there any longer.

“
Are you all right, Charlotte?” Martha whispered, wrapping a firm arm around her.

“
Yes, Martha,” she said, breathing a shaky breath. “Now I’m ready to see my granddaughter. Would you bring her to me, please? I’ll be in the parlor.”

“
I’ll go get her right now.”

Seated before the warm fire, Charlotte tried to gain control over her emotions as she waited.

“
Charlotte.”

Charlotte looked up and her dark blue eyes widened as she spied the tiny bundle her sister held out to her. With her heart already aching, she reached out, taking the baby into her arms. Her eyes stung with fresh tears as she looked down into the face of Jessie’s child.

“
Her name is Tia,” Martha volunteered the information. “Jessie told me it is the name Two Spirits picked out for her.”

At the mention of the baby’s father, Charlotte glanced up. “Jessie told you, didn’t she?”

“
Yes, Charlotte, she did. I can understand Eathen being so upset. But you don’t have to worry about anyone else finding out. John and I are prepared to give Tia a life here with us as our daughter.”

The child looked so much like her father that Charlotte felt her anger at the man she held responsible for destroying her daughter’s world leap to new life. Tia opened her eyes, seemingly content with the stranger holding her. Within moments, Charlotte was captivated.

“
You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Charlotte bent down, kissing the round little cheek.

Contented, the child stretched. Then closing her big, dark eyes, she went back to sleep, assured of her safety in the loving arms of her grandmother.

“
I love her already.” Charlotte rocked the infant. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave her behind when I go.”

In an instant, Martha sprang to her feet. “Eathen would never allow you to take her back with you. He could never stand the shame of having everyone know about Jessie having slept with an Indian. I mean…just look at her!” Martha flung a hand in the baby’s direction. “Anyone in Montana could see, just at a glance, who fathered her.”

“
I know,” she whispered on a long breath, “but she feels so good in my arms. It’s almost like she fills the emptiness Jessie left in my heart.”

“
I know, dear. I know.” Martha forced her racing heart to settle back to an even beat then leaned over to place a comforting arm around Charlotte’s small shoulders. “We have to think of the child now. If you take her back to Montana, she will be an outcast. I know you don’t want that, now, do you?”

“
No, Martha. I could never do that to Tia. I want her to have the best life possible.”

“
Of course you do. John and I can give her everything she could ever want, Charlotte.” She ignored the warning look John directed her way. “If you will let us adopt her, I promise you, you’ll never regret your decision.”

“
I’ll have to think about it, Martha. Right now, I’m under too much pressure to make a sound decision. But I give you my word, before I leave, I’ll let you know what I’ve decided.”

***

That night, as she lay awake waiting for John to come to bed, Martha thought about what she could do to push Charlotte into making the right decision. The right decision of course being that she and John would adopt Tia. Folding back the covers, she got to her feet. She picked up her white satin robe from the chair by the bed. Without hesitation, she pushed her arms through the sleeves, tying the belt around her waist, and then she slipped her feet into the matching slippers lined up beside the bed. Being quiet, she opened the door to peer into the hall and, seeing no one there, she proceeded on her way to the nursery.

Her feet made no noise as she made her way down the wide hallway. She stopped for a brief moment to right a picture – one of many hanging on the walls on both sides of the long hall. Most of the pictures were of relatives long since passed, but a few were of her and John, taken soon after their wedding.

“
There should be pictures of children hanging here.” She traced her fingers over the empty frames she had insisted be hung with the others. “John’s and my children.” Martha continued on her way down the hall to stop outside a halfway opened door. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, she walked inside to stand for a moment, allowing the smells of baby powder and baby oil to fill her senses.

She felt giddy as she walked over to look down at the sleeping infant. “If only you knew how long I’ve waited for you, Tia.” Martha pulled the soft blanket up around the small shoulders. The light from the gas lamp cast a pale glow over the room. With the tips of her fingers, she touched the black hair falling over the neck of Tia’s pale pink gown, noting how the child’s dark color contrasted with the pastel-colored night wear. “I can’t allow Charlotte to take you back to Montana where you will be an outcast. It isn’t your fault your father is an Indian.” She drew her hand away from the baby to bring it up to her mouth, pressing it there to stifle a sob. “She can’t take you away from me, Tia, she just can’t!”

Unable to stay any longer, Charlotte backed out of the doorway, telling herself the scene she had just witnessed would have no bearing on her decision of what to do about Tia. At her bedroom door, she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she wanted to go back to the nursery and talk to Martha or let well enough alone. Finally she pushed open her door and walked inside, pulling the door closed behind her. Reaching up, she turned down the gas lamp until a soft glow filled the room. “If I didn’t think I’d run into John or Martha, I’d go downstairs and fix me a drink.” She pulled back the coverlets on the bed then plumped the down-filled pillows. “But knowin’ Martha, she’d think I made a habit of drinkin’ myself to sleep and I’d never hear the end of it.”

At last she stretched her body out straight on the bed, not bothering to turn off the gas lamp. For long moments she lay there, willing herself to fall asleep; but instead she found her eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day,” she reminded herself, turning onto her side. “If I’m gonna get through it, I’ve got to go to sleep.” Her tired eyes gazed at the still curtain until she realized what was wrong.

“
Well, no wonder I can’t sleep.” She got out of bed and, going to the window, pulled up on the small handle. In an instant, the chilled night air filled the room. “A person can’t sleep with no air.” Back in bed, she continued to toss and turn. “I guess I’ve run outta excuses,” she whispered, turning her face into the pillow and giving in to her fear, pain and aching need.

“
I wish you knew how much I need you right now, Eathen.” She tried to gain control of her emotions. “I don’t know if I can make this decision about Tia alone.” She rummaged on the nightstand for her handkerchief and, finding it, blew her nose. “Why can’t you accept the last part of Jessie still here for us? If I thought you wouldn’t send me right back with her, I’d bring Tia home with me.” She shook her head. “But you’d have no part of her.” Charlotte pushed herself upright in the big bed. “You’d take one look at her, and all your memories of Two Spirits would come rushin’ back.”

At the thought of the man responsible for her pain, she threw back the covers and pulled on her robe. “John and Martha are just gonna have to understand if they’re still up, but I gotta have something to help me get through this night.”

With that, she made her way out of the room and down the stairs. As she walked past the room where Jessie lay in death, she stopped. Then, shaking her head, she continued on her way to the parlor.

Taking down a tall glass, she filled it part way with ice, and then poured a liberal amount of John’s best whiskey from the decanter. “Here’s to you, Eathen,” she lifted the glass to her lips, “and all your help.” She drained the glass then set it down on the small table. “If nothin’ else, at least you’ve made it easier for me to make a decision.”

John had just walked out of the den when he heard someone talking. Thinking it could be Martha, he walked into the parlor. At the sight of Charlotte standing by the portable bar with a glass of whiskey held high in her hand, he walked the rest of the way into the room. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, I thought you had already retired for the evening.”

“
I had, but I needed something to help me sleep.” She reached once more for the decanter. “I hope you don’t mind my helpin’ myself to your liquor.”

“
Of course not.” John walked over to stand beside her. “That’s what it’s for.” He noticed how her hand shook as she poured the whiskey. “Matter of fact, I think I’ll join you.”

“
Thank you, John.” She pulled down another glass. “You know what they say about people who drink alone.”

With a light chuckle, he took the drink she held out to him. “Whoever they are.”

“
Just so you know,” she looked him straight in the eye, “I don’t make a habit of this.”

“
I know that, Charlotte.” John walked over to the hearth and, after kicking a small log back into place on the fire, he sat down on the large ottoman. “Come on and join me,” he patted the chair next to him.

“
John, you don’t have to stay up with me.” She walked over and sat down in the chair. “I just wanted a little something to calm my nerves.”

“
Who’s to say I don’t have the same need?” He stretched his long legs towards the fire. “It’s nice to have someone to share a drink with in front of a relaxing fire.”

“
Meanin,’ Martha never joins you.” Charlotte watched him.

“
Martha doesn’t drink.” He ran a lazy hand through his thick hair. “She thinks it shows weakness.”

“
Too bad you couldn’t spike her tea some night and let her see how relaxin’ a little weakness can be,” she laughed, feeling some of the tension lift from her shoulders.

“
Yeah,” John found himself joining her in her humor.

“
Stay close to me tomorrow, John.”

“
I have every intention of helping you get through tomorrow, Charlotte.” The smile left his face to be replaced with one of concern.

“
If I can get through layin’ her to rest, I think I’ll be all right.” She lifted the glass to her lips, taking a long swallow.

“
I could call our family physician, ask him to prescribe something for you, if you would like. I’m sure he would be glad to help.”

“
Thank you, John, but I can’t hide from this. I gotta depend on my own strength to get me through.” She drained her glass then stood. “I’m gonna go on up to bed,” she leaned over to place a light kiss on his stubbled cheek, “I think I can get some sleep now.”

“
Goodnight, Charlotte, and don’t worry,” he squeezed her hand, “I’ll be there for you tomorrow.”

“
Goodnight, John,” she whispered, continuing on her way out of the room.

John watched her go and felt a deep longing to go after her. “Too bad Eathen doesn’t know how lucky he is to have a woman like you, Charlotte,” he told her, knowing she couldn’t hear him. He pushed himself away from the ottoman to take the seat Charlotte had vacated. Reaching out with both legs, he pulled the ottoman over in front of him. After kicking off both slippers, he plopped his feet on the footstool and stretched his legs out straight to stare into the firelight.

His mind reflected on the total difference in the two sisters. While Martha had always been cool and standoffish, centering her likes and dislikes on monetary gains, Charlotte was the complete opposite, judging a person on their self-worth and giving little thought to their bank accounts. Too, Martha tended to be very cold in every facet of her personality. She couldn’t give of herself and, as much as he hated to admit it, she didn’t want to. But Charlotte was all fire and devil-may-care. When she said something, she meant it with all her being. If the person hearing what she had to say took offense, too bad, she said it anyway. John laughed as he recalled the many times he had seen her in action.

But with all Martha’s coldness, he couldn’t dispute the fact he loved her. In some ways, she reminded him of a little girl in need of protection, and when she looked at him with her big eyes all wide with trust, he made sure he was always there for her. He cringed when he thought about what she would do if Charlotte decided to take the baby back to Montana. In a strong way, it would be like losing their son all over again.

Moving from his chair, he walked over to the hearth and, bending down, banked the fire for the night. As he walked out of the room, he said a silent prayer for Charlotte to think about Martha when she made her decision. Knowing that decision would affect his life every bit as much as it affected Martha’s.

Chapter Four

Standing at the gravesite after the interment, Charlotte observed the people taking their leave, many who had come to pay their respects to a girl they didn’t know. Her gaze shifted to the snow-covered spray of long-stemmed red roses lying atop the small closed casket. Her stomach tightened as she watched the petals lift away one by one, scattering in the wind as though plucked from the stem by unseen hands.

She loved me. She loved me not. The heart-wrenching words drifted through her mind. Why had she chosen roses? They looked so out of place. Roses belonged in the warm days of summer with their fragile petals green and full of life. They didn’t belong in the icy winds. Most of all they didn’t belong on the casket of a seventeen-year-old girl whose life had ended before she even knew what living was all about.