Chapter Twelve, part two

Back at the Breakers, Earl disappeared into the billiards room. Violet, whose head really was throbbing, tiptoed through the library, the lower loggia, and the grand salon, looking for Charlie. She had an overwhelming need to sit near him and try to loosen the kink that had formed in her heart during that disastrous talk with Sadie. She’d kept it under wraps during the car ride with Earl, but she knew she’d never get to sleep with her insides knotted like they were.

She took the stairs slowly to keep her head from exploding and went to her room to swallow two aspirin. The sight of Sadie’s empty bed made her feel even worse. She stowed the aspirin bottle and fled the room as fast as she could.

There. He was in the upper loggia, sitting near the open alcove. He seemed—not peaceful, exactly, but deep in thought. Was it fair to interrupt him? But it seemed he’d already heard her steps and had turned, face expectant, to learn who it was.

“It’s Violet,” she said, aware of the catch in her voice. Why did seeing him make her emotions overflow?

He hadn’t missed it either. “Are you all right?”

She slipped into the seat next to his just as tears began to fall and pressed her face into her hands. When she finally wiped her eyes, he was leaning forward, proffering his handkerchief, his forehead dark with concern. She took the handkerchief, conscious as her fingers brushed his. When she’d dried her face and graduated from quaking breaths to calmer ones, she said, “Thank you. All this crying—this isn’t like me, I swear.”

“It’s a kindness to my poor, lonesome handkerchiefs,” he said. “You’ve given them the highlights of their lives these past two days.”

She wiped her eyes and sighed. “It’s these séances, I think. They’re stirring up memories. I had the worst talk with Sadie today. She’s not very happy with me.”
He said nothing, but his gaze settled on her left cheek and stayed there, warming it like the sun.

Violet inhaled. “Our parents didn’t go in much for parenting,” she said. “We went away to school, but when we were home, things could get wild. Our nurses tended to quit without warning, and Mother would forget to hire a new one. Someone had to shield Sadie from what went on—arguments, late-night parties, Mother and Papa disappearing, sometimes for days. I guess I decided that person should be me. I made sure she ate; I brushed her hair. Tucked us in at night. It never occurred to me to wonder how she felt about my acting like her mother. Well, she let me know today that she’s sick and tired of it. Maybe sick and tired of me, too.”

“She’s feeling ready to fly the nest?”

“Yes, that’s a good way to put it. And that worries me so much, especially with what Mrs. Voldore said during the séance. This past year, since our parents died, I was so proud of myself for handling everything. All the details, big and small, I took care of—with my grandfather’s help, of course. But I did the work. The bills, the service, the bank accounts. I wanted to protect Sadie from all of it. Because each task, no matter how small, came with a little wrench of the heart, you know? A reminder that Papa wouldn’t need his cars anymore. That Mother would never buy another feathered hat.”

He nodded, and his eyes slipped across to the other cheek, making it as warm as its partner.

“I think—” Oh, yikes, was she really about to confess this? “I think Sadie’s grief for them is purer than mine. I spent so much time being frustrated with them and the messy world they offered us, but Sadie….maybe she understood them better than I did. Or maybe she’s more like them? I don’t know. But the golden parts, the Paris dresses and the ice cream, shone brighter for her. Bright enough to wash out the dark memories. When she cried for them, after they died, I’m sure she was really crying for them. Because she missed our parents. She loved the craziness of the apartment. The impromptu shopping sprees. Not like me. I’m…selfish, I guess. I mean, I cried for them, for the tragedy of their dying so young. For how much they would have wanted to keep living. But most of my tears were tears of pity. For myself. That I have to carry all the burdens now. Stand in the wind with no shelter.”

She gazed up at his face, at the dark eyes that seemed to see straight through her. “Is that terrible? Am I a terrible daughter?”

“Of course you aren’t.” He leaned toward her, his body slanted over his arm. “I think most people grieve for themselves. Don’t you? They grieve because they’ve lost something, whether that something is love or companionship or—a parental presence. We’re all selfish beings. I don’t think anyone is as noble as you imagine them to be. I’m sure Sadie was crying for herself, as you were. Different things may have made her sad. But she was crying for what she lost, just like you.”

He paused, and Violet let his words sit still in the center of her mind while half-formed snippets swirled around it. Maybe everyone did grieve for themselves. What a revolutionary thought.

“Can I ask you something?” he said. “What do you think your parents would have said a good daughter should be and do?”

Violet wiped her nose with his handkerchief. “Be more fun. Enjoy the things they enjoyed. Quit school and run off to Paris with them.”

“All of that, sure. But also, take care of Sadie?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Take care of Sadie.” A fresh trail of tears slid down her cheek. “I wish I knew whether to believe in what Mrs. Voldore said at the séance. If that really was my mother talking…. But it’s impossible to know. So here I am, wanting to protect Sadie more than ever while she’s itching to grow up. She said today that she doesn’t always want to be shielded. At least not from everything. I suppose I find that a bit sad.”

“Growing up is a bit sad. For all of us.”

She sat back in her chair, exhausted. A blanket of sun lay across her knees. Did Charlie love the feel of it, too, the way it heated his legs to the core? The thought of his legs made her slightly uncomfortable, so she shifted her feet, knocking the delicious heat off her knees. She hadn’t forgotten what Sadie had said about Charlie, and the memory of it stirred up an unpleasant mix of sorrow and rebellion that didn’t sit well with her headache.

“Thank you for listening,” she said.

She enjoyed being able to stare at his face without his knowing. It was one face when it was still and another when it was moving. Both were handsome. Both drew her eye like lilies in a desert.

A wry expression fell over that handsome face. “I’m not joking when I say it’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day. I considered going out on the lawn, but it seemed much safer up here.” He waved at the white and blue tiles of the loggia. “When I was a boy, I wanted to trek through deserts. Sail to the poles. Ride the subways through New York. Now I’m afraid to set foot on the lawn.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed wise, of course, for a blind person to stay safely indoors. There was that drop from the lawn to the beach—an unlucky fall could kill him. But she was trying to stop shielding Sadie. She shouldn’t do the same to Charlie.

“You have adventured. You’ve been to France, to war. You’ve seen things that most people never do. It’s terrible, what’s happened to you, but it doesn’t lessen the scope of what you did.”

He pressed his mouth into a line. “That’s kind of you to say, but not many people respect the explorer who doesn’t make it home. Or comes home wounded. But I think I might have had enough of feeling sorry for myself. It isn’t a pleasant country to live in, the land of self-pity.”

“No,” she agreed. “Very gloomy.”

“Monotonous,” he added.

“Ruled by a dreadful king and queen.”

One of his rare grins flashed forward. “The tax rates are just too high.”

Ah, sitting here with Charlie, she forgot her troubles with Sadie, forgot Alva’s questions about her future. But her head still throbbed. By the sounds of doors opening and shutting, she guessed that the others were dressing for dinner. Sadie would burst into their room soon, late as always, hunting through drawers for clean stockings. Violet didn’t feel quite ready to see her, but she also didn’t want to make Charlie late.

“It’s probably time to dress,” she said. “Do you need to go?”

“Don’t you?”

“I’m not going down tonight. My head is pounding after that episode with Sadie. If I can find a hot water bottle, I’ll turn in.”

“Without dinner? Wait.” He rose from his chair. “I believe I can help.” He extended his elbow, and she rose to take it. “Allow me to introduce my friend Anna, who can no doubt help with both the water bottle and a dinner you can eat in your room.”