M. Donice Byrd - The Warner Saga (39 page)

37

Blake entered the house through the kitchen door and was greeted with a disapproving, icy glare from the cook, Mrs. Obermeyer.

“I deserve that look,” Blake said. “But I’ve come to make amends. Please, heat these up in a pan and bring them up to Mrs. Warner on a tray,” he said handing her the package of French toast. “Maybe you could warm up the maple syrup to go over them, too.”

Blake cast his most congenial smile at the woman and pulled a daisy out of the flower arrangement for her.
Mrs. Obermeyer couldn’t help but cast a begrudging grin at him.

“I’ll put this on her tray.”

“No, that’s for you.”

“Might I suggest a yellow tulip for Mrs. Warner’s tray? It means hopelessly in love.”

Blake chuckled thinking that about summed it up. He had been miserable after he left because he couldn’t imagine life without her. He carefully tugged at the flower until it was free and handed it to her. “Wait about fifteen minutes before you bring it up. I’m hoping to get her to forgive me before she has ammunition to throw in my direction.”

Blake left the kitchen and encountered Pete and Lolly playing checkers in the study. Lolly jumped up with a squeal and ran to him
, hugging him around his legs. When she released him, he squatted down to her level. She touched his bare cheek.

“Better.”

“Which flower do you like the best?” he asked.

Lolly looked thoughtfully at the huge bouquet, biting her lip, her eyes wide.
“That one.”

She picked out a large pink speckled flower that Blake thought might belong to the lily family. He carefully removed it and handed it to her. “Go ask Mrs. Obermeyer to cut the stem and put it in a glass of water. I need to talk to Aunt Meredith alone for a few minutes.”

Lolly’s bottom lip pouted out. “I can’t come with you?”

“Lolly, I need you to help me. I’m going to try to talk her into letting me co
me home and in fifteen minutes, when Mrs. Obermeyer brings the tray, I need you to come in and if she hasn’t agreed, you can plead my case for me.”

Blake broke off some baby’s breath and tucked it into her black hair above her ear. “Doesn’t she look even prettier with flowers in her hair, Pete?”

Pete made a few signs.

“What did he say?”

“He says I look beautiful like my ma.”

“You’re right, Pete. I have a feeling when Lolly grows up, you and I will have to join forces to keep the boys away.”

Blake gave her a little peck on the forehead. “Wish me luck,” he said.

Pete gave a reluctant nod and crossed his fingers.

The heavy curtains were drawn making the room as dark as one could in the late afternoon sun. Blake’s hotel room had the same melancholy feel. Meredith slept
on her side of the bed hugging a pillow to her.

After setting the large bouquet on her dresser, turning the arrangement where the missing flowers were not noticeable, Blake threw back the heavy draperies and flooded the room with sunshine. He watched as Meredith
stirred, a moan of protest at the sudden invasion of light emanated from her throat as her eyes opened and closed.

“Please, close those, Mrs. Obermeyer.”

When the darkness did not return, her eyes fluttered open again fighting the invasion of light. Blake saw her whole body tense when her gaze fell upon him, a mild expletive escaping her lips.

“Come now, Meredith. Pete does a better job of cursing me.” His soul flooded with joy being in her presence.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and adjusted her pillows before she leaned back gave him a look of disgust. Blake’s heart lurched as he saw her chin tremble as she smoothed the covers across her lap.

“I-I should have opened the letter from the lawyer to see if I needed to sign them admitting I’m an adulteress,” she said dryly. She tried to ignore the way seeing him made her heart beat wildly in her chest. “I’m sorry you had to come over.”

“I’m not here about that. Pete and Lolly came to see me at the hotel. They said you’re sick.”

“They did?”

Blake nodded.

Meredith’s eyes filled with tears as her hands nervously fidgeted in her lap. She turned her head away and looked at the ceiling, blinking back the tears. She knew he wasn’t concerned for her.

“The doctor didn’t think the baby was in any danger. He said it’s scarlet fever that we – I have to worry about.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How are
you
?”

Blake didn’t really need to ask, he could see how pale her cheeks were and the dark smudges around her eyes. She looked thin, fragile.

I did this to her
, he thought. She was so full of life and robust when they met but he syphoned all the life out of her leaving her broken-hearted. Criminy! He loved her, for God’s sake. How could he treat her with such disregard?

“I’m fine,” she said simply. They both recognized the statement for the lie it was.

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed near her hip, facing her. Reaching out, he placed his hand on her cheek and for a moment, she nestled towards it before squeezing her eyes closed and pulling away. He withdrew his hand from her face and took both hands resting in her lap and held them, tightening his grip slightly when she recoiled at the contact.

“Are you with her now?” she asked tentatively.

“Rebecca? No, Meredith. I’ve told you before that Rebecca and I are friends, nothing more.” He met her eyes. “No, that’s not true.” Blake stopped and took a breath, not really sure if he had any right to tell Meredith about Rebecca. If Meredith told anyone, it could get Rebecca killed.

“That morning, when I was getting dressed, I put on the sack coat that I had worn our second day here. You remember the day we took Pete and Lolly to have their clothes made?”

Meredith nodded, eyeing him distrustfully.

“When we returned to the hotel, Mrs. Donovan gave me some letters and invitations. One of those letters
was a military communiqué and instead of looking at it immediately, I put it in my pocket. My father’s fundraiser was that night and when we got back….”

“The children had run away,” she finished.

“Yes, I completely forgot about the letter until I was getting dressed and found it. I had resigned from the Union Intelligence Service by then so I had no business opening that letter, so I took it to the only other person I knew who could.”

“Rebecca is a spy? But she’s a woman.”

“That’s one of the reasons she’s so good at it. No one thinks of a woman as a spy.” He gave her delicate hands a reassuring squeeze. “When I arrived at her townhouse, I found she was out of town. I didn’t see her at all that day.”

“But…” Meredith’s lips pursed. “Then I don’t understand what happened. If she didn’t lead you
astray…?”

Blake let go of her hands and suddenly stood. Scraping his hands through his hair, he paced with agitation. “I need to tell you something so you understand why I left.”

“If you’re in love with someone else, Blake, I don’t want to hear it. I can’t take anymore.”

A sad smile played on his lips as he shook his head. “She’s been dead nearly twenty years, treasure. But I did love her.”

“Your mother?”

Blake winced at the word
mother
.

“
Elizabeth. My father called her Beth. She was my world. She was my … everything.”

Blake stopped pacing and took a deep shaky breath. C
ould he face the demons that haunted him? He spent his whole life running from his scandalous beginnings; taking women to his bed as a distraction from the memories that haunted him; never allowing himself to love anyone so they couldn’t hurt him the way she had; flashing his politician’s smile so people wouldn’t see that his heart was black and dead.

“Blake.” Meredith saw the anxiety in his eyes and suspected he was going to bolt if she didn’t calm him down. She remembered how Donna had told her that Blake didn’t speak of his childhood or his time on the streets – that it was as if his life started the day she found him. Whatever he needed to say, it was so painful that he preferred not to speak of it. “Please,
come sit back down.” When he did, she took a hold of his hands. “Please, tell me about… Beth. You loved her very much didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

When he did not continue, she prompted him. “I bet she was very pretty.”

He wore a faraway smile.
“Beautiful, elegant, graceful, spirited.” He stopped and pulled himself back to the present and took another deep breath. “And melancholy.”

He met her eyes. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell people she was a widow. It would’ve made my life so much easier. It must have been pride.”

“I can only imagine how hard that was.”

“I was bullied endlessly at school because of it. None of the other boys would risk befriending a kid like me for fear of having that treatment turned on them. You get to a point where you either let them break you or you fight back. She used to cry when I came home with scrapes and bruises from fighting.

“Beth was my refuge. I was safe at home. I was happy there. And one day, before I could leave the school grounds, a boy in one of the older grades called her a whore. I jumped on him and beat the hell out of him.”

“Did you get into trouble that day?”

Blake looked down at their clasped hands and shook his head. He swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. The muscle of his jaw danced convulsively as he fought emotions as raw as the day he found her.

“She-she killed herself that day,” he blurted out. “I think she wanted me to find her in time to save her life. But I was late because I got in a fight. She was my world and she left me.”

She released one hand and placed it on his cheek. When he looked up, their tear-filled eyes met and locked.

“I’m so sorry, Meredith. I don’t know how I could abandon you like that when I knew you were on the edge. I-I just couldn’t go through that pain again. I just can’t lose you, too.”

“Blake,” she murmured pulling him into an embrace. She understood now why he didn’t speak of her death, why he called her by her name. She could see the frightened little boy who took the blame of her death on himself. “Blake, it’s not your fault. People who do that aren’t in their right mind. It probably never occurred to her that you’d find her. I’m so sorry you had to experience that.”

An embarrassed flush crept up Blake’s neck.
“Criminy! Nearly twenty years later and it still feels as painful as it did then.” He pulled his handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped his eyes harshly as if he could force out any unshed tears. With a chagrined smile, Blake wiped her tears from her face also.

“Well, that explains your overreaction.”

“My overreaction!” he shouted shooting to his feet. “The woman I love was going to kill herself and our baby. I left you because I couldn’t bear it. How is that an overreaction? If anything, that’s an
under
reaction.”

Meredith threw the covers off and stood up, placing her hands on her hips the way he loved.

“I’m not her, Blake. I wasn’t going to kill myself. I was happy. You told me you loved me – finally. I thought you had gone to tell Rebecca that she was out of your life. I’m having a baby that I thought we both were thrilled about. Why would I want to hurt myself?”

Blake gaped at his little five-foot hellion, considering her argument.

“But you hid my razor behind your back when I came in,” he questioned quietly.

“I knew it was precious to you. You said it was the one thing you own that you would have come back to our farm for. You always squirrel it away in your pocket or in your drawer. I’d never seen it out before. I just wanted to see it. I thought if I could get a good look at it, maybe, I
could have one like it made for you for Christmas – with your initials.”

Blake felt the blood drain from his face. “No.” His voice was eerily calm. “The last thing I want is a razor that looks like that one. My mother killed herself with that razor.”

Meredith gasped and suddenly became unsteady on her feet. Reaching out for the bedpost, she tried to steady herself. Blake scooped her up in his arms and placed her back in bed.

“You shouldn’t be up, you’re not well.”

“Why would you keep that?” she whispered as he pulled up the covers.

“I thought I was protecting my father. It had his initials on it. I thought if anyone saw it, his career would be over. The policeman wanted to take me to the orphanage but I ran away.”

“Donna told me how she found you,” she said. Tears sprung to her eyes again as images wavered in her mind of the little mop-topped, blue-eyed boy, hungry and alone, huddling in the cold. “You’ve had such a hard childhood.”