In Name Only (39 page)

Caroline gently
rubbed Kathleen’s back, urging her to lie down. Soon she had settled and she
was breathing deeply again. Caroline stared at her daughter for a few moments;
her mind wandering to the previous day and of David’s kissing her in the pond. The
sensation of being so close to him made her feel light-headed and breathless. 
She smiled when she remembered him sputtering in the water and then chasing her
playfully near the pond until he had caught her and thrown her in.  Caroline
found herself wanting to spend more time with him, talking to him, getting
acquainted with this new David.

The grandfather
clock downstairs began its distant chiming and Caroline listened to see what
time it was.  Two o’clock. 

She pulled on her
robe and made her way to the hallway.  Passing by David’s room, she found the
door open.  She stood quietly and listened for David’s even breathing.  Hearing
no sound, she pushed his door open. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could
see that he was not in his bed.

He must be
working late in the downstairs study.  Perhaps I should see if he wants a cup
of coffee
.

She quietly crept
down the staircase and was surprised that most of the gas lamps along the wall
beside the staircase still flickered.  It was so quiet that all Caroline could
hear was the ticking of the clock nearby.

She peered into
David’s study and found it dark and unoccupied.
Where is David?
Why
are some of the gas lights still aglow?
Jane usually extinguished these at
the end of the night, although David sometimes performed the task if he was
working late.

“Miss Caroline, I
was wondering who was roaming around.”

“I didn’t mean to
wake you.  I was endeavoring to be quiet.”

“That’s fine.  I
hadn’t gotten to sleep yet.”

“Do you know
where David is?”

“No, Ma’am, I
don’t.  A few hours ago, I heard him leave down the back staircase.  That’s why
I turned on a few of the gas lights.”

Caroline’s mouth
tightened into a thin worried line.

“I’m sure he’s
fine,” Jane said.

The front door
opened and David stumbled in.  His dark curly hair was disheveled.  There was a
deep cut on his forehead, his bottom lip was bruised. His linen shirt was only
partially tucked in and stained with a dark liquid.  His jacket looked as if it
had been quickly thrown on. His eyes widened when he saw Caroline and Jane
standing in the foyer.

“David!  Where
have you been this late at night?” Caroline blurted out, now relieved.

“I’ve been. .
.out.  I had. . .business in town.” He stuttered, then shoved his way past her,
roughly knocking against her.  Caroline could smell alcohol on him and another
unfamiliar odor.

“Were you in a
fight?”

“Look,” he said
curtly as he turned around, but avoided eye contact with her, “I’m tired. .
.and I need to get some sleep.  Good night.”  He attempted to quickly climb the
stairs but tripped as he did so. When he reached the top step, he hastily
turned toward his room.

“Miss Caroline?”

She looked at
Jane, who began walking back up to her own room.  “May I go to bed, Ma’am?”

“Of course.  Good
night.”

*  *  *

David attempted
to rescue what remained of any self control he possessed in order to keep from
throwing every piece of furniture in his room against the wall.  Despite his
dizziness and nausea from drinking too much, he was furious with himself. Part
of him wished that he had consumed more whiskey, because then he would be
unconscious.  Now, he not only felt undeserving, he wanted to throw his faith
back at God and the Church.  It was impossible to live up to those teachings.

He had little
memory of riding home and didn’t become consciously aware until he saw
Caroline’s face in the front foyer.

Why did he
believe that he could stop at one drink?  He should have known that one drink –
or a thousand – would never be enough.

He didn’t
remember much about the fight or the time after, but he should never have had
that first drink.  His head throbbed, his eyes hurt and he probably had a few
bruised ribs.  For one brief moment, he stared at the gun cabinet and wondered
whether he ought to end it all.

Chapter 45

Caroline slept
fitfully, but managed to drift off for an hour or so. Kathleen woke early and,
in her sweet high-pitched chatter, asked, “Mama, wake Papa too?”

“Well, Sweet, Papa
was in late last night and I’m sure he’s still sleeping.”

“Oh,” she said,
her small mouth curved in a pout.

“Miss Caroline?” 
Jane asked through the door.

“Yes?”

“Do you want me
to fix Miss Kathleen her breakfast?”

“That would be
helpful, Jane.  Thank you.”  Caroline opened the door.  Jane picked up Kathleen
and the two left the room and proceeded down the hallway.  As Caroline dressed,
she recalled only hours ago, when David had come in so late. He seemed like the
old David. Only yesterday, they had shared a tender kiss at the pond.

This other side
of David, the sarcastic side, made Caroline want to take back the kiss, the
sweet, tender symbol that marked the beginning of their new relationship.

She finished
brushing her hair and buttoned up the front of her dress. In the hallway, when
she passed David’s room, she saw that the door was ajar, open enough for her to
see that he was not in bed.  She knocked but there was no answer.  Pushing the
door fully open, she could see that David was not in his room.  She turned and
walked down the back stairs to the kitchen where Jane was feeding Kathleen
breakfast.  Isaac was settled on Jane’s hip.

“David isn’t in
his room.”

“I saw him take
the carriage out about an hour ago.”

“Before seven
a.m.?  On a Saturday morning?  He only came in at two o’clock.”

Through the side
window, Caroline could see that David was riding past in their small carriage
toward the direction of the stable.  Her pulse quickened.  She found herself
hoping that he was in a better mood. 

She glanced at
Jane, who seemed preoccupied with Isaac and Kathleen.  Caroline crept closer to
the window.  She watched as David tethered the horses to the back hitching
post.  When he walked past the window, Caroline shrunk back and behind the
curtain so he could not see her. 

“I’ll return in a
moment.”

“Mr. David must
be awful tired.”

“I know, but I
must speak with him.”

Caroline hurried
up the steps and to David’s room and paused before knocking. “Who is it?”
David’s voice had a sharp edge to it.

“It’s me, David. 
May I speak with you?”

He opened the
door and glanced quickly at her face, but again avoided eye contact with her.

“Where did you go
this morning, David?”

“I went. . .to
the Cathedral.”

“At seven a.m.?”

He nodded.  “I
needed to speak with Father Flaherty about. . . an urgent matter.”

“Is anything
wrong?”

“I’m fine.” His
shoulders were slumped, he avoided eye contact and fidgeted in the doorway. 
“Well, if there’s nothing else, I need to get some sleep.”  He stepped back. 
He seemed so distant and Caroline got the feeling that she was like an annoying
mosquito he wished to rid himself of.

“Yes, of course.”

He closed the
door, but Caroline remained in the hallway, her body leaning against the door. 
She knew that he wasn’t fine, but how could she help him when he wouldn’t share
with her what was wrong?

*  *  *

David remained
facing the closed door, his hand clutching the porcelain knob.  He knew that
Caroline was hurt by his continuing cold, abrupt manner.  He hated himself for
speaking to her like that, but now it was necessary to alienate her so that she
would not want to continue a future romantic relationship.  He needed her to
stay away from him for her own good.

And yet a deeper,
intense desire gripped his heart.  He loved her and longed to take her into his
arms and feel her skin on his.  He wanted to give his whole life, his whole
body, to her.  But that should never happen.  Not now.  The kiss at the pond,
the affection and possible attraction that she was feeling for him, all needed
to disappear.  He could never live up to her expectations.

When he arrived
at the church this morning, he could not bring himself to go inside. He
nervously paced back and forth in front while he attempted to gain enough
courage to speak with Father Flaherty.  The fight was clearly his fault; he
remembered throwing the first punch, but couldn’t recall why.  Was it a comment
about his father?  Either way, he had only himself to blame. He realized that
he needed to go to Confession, but after a half-hour of pacing, he couldn’t do
it.  Saying out loud what he must say to another human being would be too
humiliating.  He dropped himself on his bed and began to sob.

“
Stop crying. 
You’re not a baby any more. Only babies and girls cry, David.  Stop it.”

Echoes of his
father’s words crushed his wounded heart.

So why couldn’t
he have just one drink? Why did he have to get into that fight?  And why could
he not forgive himself for what he had done?

All of a sudden,
he began to shiver.  His bedroom now seemed cold and uninviting. He gathered a
few pieces of kindling and some thin pieces of maple to construct a fire, then
stopped, wondering if he should just be left to suffer.

David shook his
head, then decided to light the wood.  He needed to keep occupied, to forget.
Once finished, he breathed in the smell of the burning logs and the warmth of
the fire.

His mind was
clearing, but his head was still pounding from the brandy, wine and whiskey. 
The more he became rational, the more he hated himself.  The brandy flask on
the dresser beckoned him to consume more, to escape the knowledge of what had
happened several short hours ago.

He placed his
hand on the smooth decanter.  He caressed the side of it, then lifted up the
top and inhaled the aroma of the liquid. 
Just
one more taste
.

“No,” he
shouted.  He grabbed the bottle and hurled it into the small fire.  With a
whoosh, it caused a small explosion and for a minute or so it raged as the
alcohol fed the ravenous flames.

“Mr. David, you
all right?” he heard Kip say through the door.

“Yes, yes, I’m
fine,” he yelled.  “I just. . . dropped something.”

“Do you want me
to clean it up for you?”

“No, no.  I’ll
get to it, Kip.”

He shuffled
carelessly to the front of the fireplace and screamed as he stepped on a large
piece of glass. Kip had already opened the door by the time he was finished
yelling.  The servant winced when he saw David’s bare foot, the gash now
dripping blood onto the hardwood floors. “It’s fine, Kip.  I’ll. . .I’ll be. .
.fine,” he said, attempting to sound calm.

“Beggin’ no
disrespect, Mr. David, but you don’t look fine. You’re white as a ghost.”

David hopped on
one foot and plopped himself on the trunk at the foot of his bed.  From the
corner of his eye, he could see that Caroline stood quietly at the doorway. David
couldn’t — wouldn’t — look at her, but he felt her gaze burning into his skin
and right through to his heart. 

Kip crouched down
in front of David and carefully pulled the large shard of glass from his foot. 
Immediately, a flow of blood spurted onto the floor.

“David!” he could
hear Caroline say.  “What happened?”  Her voice grew closer.

“I stepped on
some glass.  Isn’t that obvious?”  He knew there was a hard edge to his tone
and he hated himself for speaking that way to her.

“David,” he could
hear her say, “I don’t mean that.  How did the glass break?”  Now, she stood so
close to him that he could feel her breath above him.

“I. . .I dropped 
it,” he said, avoiding not only Caroline’s eye, but Kip’s as well.  A cursory
glance soon revealed that now Jane and Hallie had come into the room.

Kip pressed a
cloth onto David’s wounded foot.  David wanted to be left alone and ignored. 
His foot hurt like hell but he was glad for the pain, something to focus on
besides the agony of his soul. “I’m fine.”  The lie burned his throat. “If
everyone could just leave.” His voice trembled but he hoped that Caroline
wouldn’t notice.

“You keep the
cloth on there, Mr. David.  That might need some sewing.  It’s wide open.  And
you ought to put some alcohol on there.”

“It’ll be fine,
Kip.  Now, if you all could just. . .leave.”

Their footsteps
faded one by one.  His room was now silent.

Why couldn’t he
stop at one drink?  Why did he have to throw the first punch? Why did he have
to. . .