Bitter Eden (42 page)

"May I have it?"

"No, Natalie. I told you, it's a gift from Peter to Jamie."

"But I want it! I need it!"

Callie took her hat off. She tried to straighten her hair and gave up. It had been a long, tiring day, and she was in no mood to listen to Natalie. "What would you need a ball for?" she said with a long sigh. "Stop being ridiculous, Natalie. It's a child's toy and meant for Jamie."

"Bertie wants it," she said angrily. "Give it to me, Callie."

Callie turned slowly from the mirror. "Who is Bertie?"

"You know perfectly well who Bertie is. Give me the ball!"

"Your child?"

"He wants the ball. Give it to me! I'll take it if you don't."

Callie put the ball behind her back. "Where is Bertie, Natalie? Can I see him?" she asked softly.

"He's in the nursery where all good children belong," she said gruffly, then brightened. "Would you really like to see him? He's the very image of Albert. I do wish Albert would hurry and come home. You know how fast babies grow. He's missing all the cute things Bertie is learning."

"That's too bad. Why don't you take me to Bertie now? I'd like to see him," Callie said, and prayed that it was a doll Natalie spoke of, or some imaginary being Natalie was calling Bertie. * "Oh, silly! You know him," Natalie said, taking her

to the doorway of Jamie's nursery. Jamie dropped the blocks Stephen had made for him and ran to Callie.

Callie stooped down to take him in her arms, "Do you know who I saw today, Jamie?"

"Papapapapapa!" He laughed and clapped in their usual ritual. Callie gave him the wrapped ball and put him on the floor to tear the colored papers that hid the treasure.

"Papa sent this to you."

"I wanted to give it to him," Natalie said, pouting.

"It was Peter's gift to Jamie, Natalie."

Natalie stared at her, ^then went to Jamie and kneeled down on the floor with him as she crooned about the pretty ball Papa had sent to Bertie.

Callie took Natalie by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "Get out of here! Stay away from him, and never let me hear you call him Bertie again!"

Natalie slapped her, trying to break Callie's hold on her arm.

"Natalie, I don't want to hint you, but you're going to leave this room, or I am going to remove you from it" Callie warned, and began pulling her toward the door.

"I can go by myself!" Natalie hissed, pulling her arm free and walking from the room.

Callie went directly to Meg. "Do you realize she is trying to convince herself that Jamie is the child she lost?"

Meg had lost weight. She was tired and haggard. "I don't know what to do about it. She'll not listen to me. I've tried to talk to her. The last time she threw her hand mirror at me," Meg said and raised her sleeve to reveal an ugly bruise on her forearm.

"This can't continue. It's not good for Jamie, and certainly no good for Natalie."

Meg remained silent and defeated, slowly rubbing the bruised arm.

"Aunt Meg . . ."

"I don t know what to tell you, Callie. I know what you want me to say, but I cant. She's my child, no matter what she's done or what she is. I am too old and too tired," she said brokenly, "I don't know what to do."

Callie sat looking at Meg. She was old. Meg had never seemed to be any age before, always bustling about, keeping everything in order and smiling as she did. The last month had taken its toll of her and left her showing her years. She had abandoned her household chores to Anna and the housekeeper, something unheard of when James was alive. Anna and a hired cook reigned supreme in the pride of Meg's life, her kitchen.

Callie looked down at her hands on her lap, sorry she hadn't the good sense to realize all this before she had spoken. It was plain to see: Aunt Meg was no longer the Meg Berean Callie had once known. "I shouldn't have come to you with this. I'm sorry, Aunt Meg."

Meg sighed. "Oh, you should, Callie, and you should be able to trust me to remedy it, but I can't. I don't know how. Fm just not up to it anymore."

"Well, you're not to worry about it You've been handling problems for this family for years. It's time some of the rest of us did our share. You're tired, and it isn't much of a problem anyway."

Callie had left Meg then, still disturbed, not knowing whom to turn to. She could say nothing to Stephen. He had as much to do and think about as he could manage trying to find enough work to keep her going to see Peter. All she could do was to give strict instructions to the nurse for Jamie's schedule, keeping

Natalie away from him part of the time. It annoyed Natalie and resulted in another scene between them.

"His name is Jamie, Natalie. I will not permit you to call him by any other name."

"Is that why you won't let me see him?"

"Yes, it is."

"He's mine. You cant keep me away. Albert is the magistrate. He'll have you put in prison," she said with steely determination.

Callie said slowly and precisely. "Jamie is Peter's child. Peter and Rosalind's. Not yours."

"Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't say her name! Don't, don't ever say her name!"

"She is his mother, Natalie."

"You're hateful! Horrible and hateful. Why do you torment me?" she cried,

"I don't. I have never wanted to hurt you. But you must stop pretending, Nattie. It is very bad for both you and Jamie. He doesn't even know his own name anymore, you've called him Bertie so often. Think of Peter. You don't want to take your brother's child from him, do you?"

"Peter was never kind to me. Why should I care about him? Anyway Peter is gone. Frank told me he is dead."

"Well, he isn't. That was a lie. Peter is alive and very unhappy. Jamie is important to him."

Natalie frowned. "Where is Peter?"

"In prison," Callie said shortly.

"In prison? Why? What did he do? Did Albert arrest him?"

"You don't know?"

"I think I did ... I must have forgotten. What did he do?"

"He was accused of shooting Rosalind and Albert,"

Callie said and waited for whatever violent reaction that would bring from Natalie.

Natalie shook her head. "But that's not true. Peter wouldn't do it. He never listened to any of the things I told him. I told him they were all true, but he wouldn't listen to me." Her voice rose as she spoke.

"Who did do it, Natalie?" Callie asked, holding her breath.

Natalie put her hands to her head, pressing so hard her features were distorted. She choked, nearly strangling; but as Callie reached to help her, Natalie pulled away. Her body was rigid, yet she was trembling. Her voice was no more than a thin wail. "Peter did it! He killed them! I saw him. He went to the cottage, and he had Papa's pistols. He took one and aimed it and shot. I saw him! I saw him • . . and then he took the other pistol. Albert looked so surprised. He looked so funny ... he was afraid. And then the other pistol shot . . . and . . ."

"Natalie!" Callie took her in her arms. Natalie was stiff and hard to her touch. "Natalie, it's all right Calm down. Look! I'm here. Nothing is happening. Natalie!" Callie screamed. "Look at me!"

Slowly Natalie looked at her, her eyes still filled with horror.

"Peter is gone now, isn't he? You don't see him now. I'm here. Just me." Callie petted at her, turning her face so she could look at nothing but Callie.

"He can't come and get me, Callie?" Natalie said pathetically. "He'll be so angry. He'd never believe me. I couldn't make him do what I wanted him to. Oh, Callie, I want Albert and Bertie. Why was Albert with Rosalind? Why did he have to be there? I thought she'd be alone. He left late. I thought . . ." She began to sob. "Please, I want to see Bertie."

Callie had had her confrontation with Natalie just two days before she saw Peter for the last time. The evening they returned to Kent, Callie remained in the parlor until the others had gone to bed. Then she went to find Stephen, who never seemed to sleep these days. Together they walked back to the house from his mountain.

"We've done all we can for Peter, Stephen. He doesn't like us seeing him now," she said thoughtfully.

"I know. If there was just some way we could do something ... if only we knew what had happened."

Callie thought for a moment about the horrified words that had poured from Natalie's mouth. She was certain she now understood what had happened that day, but nothing in what Natalie had said would help Peter. No one would understand. They would blame Peter again, never considering the twisted substitutions Natalie's sick mind could make. "There is nothing," she said aloud. "Not now anyway. All I know is that we shouldn't go back to the hulks again."

"Callie, I've been thinking . . ."

"About going home?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes."

"So have I," she said and then told him about Natalie's fixation on Jamie, and about Meg, omitting only that part about Rosalind and Albert's death.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"There was nothing you could do, and you have enough on your mind."

"You should have told me. I could have helped you.

"Well, I have now, and our leaving will take care of that. Jamie is young. He'll forget. How soon could we leave, Stephen?"

"Peter's ship sails in less than three weeks. I think we should wait until he is gone, even if we don't see

him. I . . . oh, Callie, I don't know. Sometimes I think if we just keep going to London we can ward off the inevitable. But we cant, can we? There's a ship sailing for New York a week after Peter sails. It's American, so if Jack hasn't sent us the money, I can talk to the captain. We can sail on that ship."

Callie and Stephen talked to Meg the next morning and told her of their plans. Meg had spent most of the morning closed in her room. Boxes of papers and letters that James had written and received were strewn about. She hardly seemed to care about what Callie and Stephen had to say. She held one of James's ledgers on her lap.

"What are you doing with these, Ma? Checking up on the family fortunes?" Stephen asked, taking her hand in his.

"Remembering," she said.

"With a book of accounts?"

"James wrote them."

"Are you all right, Ma?"

"Oh, yes. I'm just fine. I was thinking about the house your papa wanted to buy in London. He has the expenditure he planned to make all worked out in this ledger. I wouldn't let him buy it. I didn't want to be in London. Do you think things would have been different if I had let him buy that house?"

"No, Ma, I don't. We were happy here for a long time. You did the right thing."

"We were happy, weren't we?"

"Yes," Stephen said in a barely audible voice.

Callie slipped out of the room and went to her own.

Meg didn't come to supper that night, and Natalie ate in the nursery with Jamie. Stephen told Anna and Frank of their plans to leave.

"We have a good ship going back. We should be there by the end of harvest. The only thing I am wor-

ried about is Ma. She doesn't seem very good to me. I don't like to leave her like this/'

"Well, you needn't worry about her. You just run along home. I've always taken care of Ma, and I'll continue," Frank said gruffly.

"Don't be so quick to speak, Frank. It isn't just Mother Berean," Anna said. "It is Natalie as well, Frank. I can do nothing with her, and Mother Berean will no longer try. Natalie wanders around the house at all hours. She nearly caused a fire the other night . . . when you were in London, Callie. She came down sometime during the night and lit lamps throughout the house. One she left too near her needlework. It was all singed and browned when I found it. I don't mean to be cruel, but I think the loss of Albert and her child coming so close together has completely unbalanced her. The doctor says that this sometimes happens after a woman loses a child, and that she may get better. But he has not heard her talking to herself as I have, and today Callie told me she has taken to calling Jamie *Bertie.' It is frightening ... the hateful things she says."

"Then we'll have her put away," Frank said.

"You can't do that. It would kill Ma," Stephen saicL

"It's not your problem. It's mine."

"She's Stephen's sister as well as yours, Frank," Callie said.

"She may be, but I don't see him doing anything but giving advice. As long as I have to provide for Natalie, I'll decide what must be done for the good of all."

"You're not providing for Natalie. Papa did that for her as he did all of us," Stephen said.

"That went when she married Albert. You don't suppose she went to him empty-handed. We'd have never married her off without a dowry. And if you're

thinking shell get something from Albert's estate, think again. Not only did Albert have virtually nothing in his own name, Mrs. Foxe and her brother are trying to get that marriage annulled because Mrs. Foxe claims Nat was not sane when she married Albert," Frank said.

"That's nonsense. Albert knew Natalie for years. They grew up together." Stephen looked angrily at Frank. "If he thought something was wrong with her why did he marry her?"

Frank shrugged. "He's not here to say, is he? But Mrs. Foxe is, and she has plenty to say to whoever will listen."

"Including you," Stephen snapped.

"Yes, including me. I have to live here and don't you forget it. Her brother is one of the most important men in the parish. I've got no place to run off to as you have. The two of you may feel you are doing a fine piece of charity by parading into London and making spectacles of yourselves, but you won't be here to face the talk and the resentment stirred up against the Berean name. I've got a convicted murderer for a brother and a loony for a sister. They are calling Callie Peter's whore; and you, Stephen, do you know what they call you?"

"That's enough, Frank!"

"Enoughl It's nowhere near enough! How much abuse do you think a man can take? What do you think that does to my name and business? How do you think I feel?"

"Who in the hell cares! You don't begin to know the meaning of abuse, Frank. And I'm wondering how much and who you are willing to sacrifice for your name and business."