Chapter1: The Stranger
"He's phoned four times, Caroline. Four times!"
"Has he…" Caroline was reading through the mail, more or less ignoring what Kate had said.
"He's insistent- He really wants to speak to you, Caroline." Kate's voice turned firm- she wanted Caroline to realize what she had been dealing with. Not once but four times!
"Does he now. Want to speak to me." Caroline kept sorting through the mail. Apparently, the gas bill had more significance than the continuous phone calling and the man's desire to speak to her.
"What does he want? I…I told him that I was your wife." Stated strongly. And the mother of your child!" Stated even stronger.
Inside Kate was quivering; outside Kate had her chin stuck out in a defiant manner. Caroline's avoidance of specifics had put her on edge.
"Good…Good." Caroline had yet to be distracted from her task of reading the mail.
"Who… who is…should I be worried, Caroline?" All the cloak and dagger responses had brought Kate to the point of worry- no not worry. That was not the right word. It was plain out and out jealousy. Yes, jealousy! She's her Caroline! And Kate had no bloody intentions of sharing Caroline in any form or manner with any flipping body. Caroline was her wife- her soul mate, end of story. Book closed.
"Like that's every going to happen." Finally. The mail had taken its rightful place in the pecking order; that being second to Kate. Caroline peered at her, over the top of her reading glasses, with a tight smile and raised eyebrows. Her facial expression served as a grammatical complement to what had been said. Kate read Caroline's look perfectly. But didn't she always?
"Oh Caroline…" She regretted her doubt of Caroline's marital commitment. Regretted the battery of questions put to Caroline that queried her faithfulness to her.
"Come here, you." Caroline took her glasses off, opened her arms for her wife to fall into them. Opened her arms to assure her wife that she was the one and only one she'd ever want. For now and for a million and one years from now.
Whatever Kate was doing, it meant zilch, now. All and everything could wait. She put down the cooking utensil- to hell with cooking dinner. She did not walk into Caroline's arms- she rushed into her wife's awaiting arms. It was all Kate ever wanted to do for the rest of her life- be in Caroline's awaiting embrace.
Caroline tightened her arms around Kate. It was a solid hold. Pale beautiful blue eyes gazed at Kate, shouting out what was in Caroline's heart long before Caroline said it. "I love you. My utterly beautiful Kate." Then Caroline moved in to kiss her; it was a kiss without measure; a kiss without rival. Full stop. It was the very kiss that Kate needed in order to wipe away any fear; in order to wipe away any doubt.
When Caroline and Kate broke from the intense kiss, Kate took her hand and gently caressed Caroline's face. She was satisfied that Caroline was no Gillian but curiosity of who the stranger was remained. "Who is he Caroline?"
"A ghost from the past. That's all. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about- promise." One more kiss, a gentle one- straight to the tip of Kate's nose- to close the deal.
Everyone had skeletons in their closet, Kate thought. Caroline was allowed to have hers too, just like everyone else. Wasn't she? When Caroline was ready, not one minute sooner, (Kate knew that) Caroline would confide in her. She always did. Kate would be patient. Then again, Kate was always patient when it came to Caroline, no matter the circumstance.
"If he calls again…" Kate stopped in mid-sentence. Cocked her head to one side and gave a slight smile to assure Caroline she was in accord with her wishes but needed to ask one last question. "What should I say?"
"He won't call again…I'll see to it. First thing tomorrow." The sheer determined look on Caroline's face told Kate there would be no more calls from the stranger.
"I'm going up to change now. Flora taking her nap?"
"She's with Celia. She should be bringing her back any minute now. God, I don't know who spoils her more, Celia or you."
Kate and Celia were getting along just grand these days. Now that Flora had entered the picture. Celia loved babies- babies, they're always welcome- that's what Celia would say. It always made Kate smile to hear her say that; the thrill of hearing the words spoken about her Flora touched her very soul. "Always welcome" those words would echo over and again in her head until she had the opportunity to tell Caroline what Celia had said. When told, Caroline would just smile and say: "My mother said that, did she?" Caroline always tried to underplay how overjoyed that she was with what her mother had said but Kate always knew…what pleased Caroline…what made her happy.
"Should I ask Celia if she and Alan want to stay for…?"
"No, no, not tonight, sweetheart." Caroline winked at Kate. The wink which was meant to be flirtatious failed to convey the message- it only piqued Kate's curiosity further. It was unlike Caroline not to want to share a meal with Celia and Alan. Especially, these days when the four of them were hitting if off so well, so extraordinarily well.
Caroline turned to leave then all of a sudden, stopped. Seemingly, gathering up her thoughts before saying: "Kate, can I ask you not to mention…don't tell my mother about the phone calls… okay…thanks."
"Sure. Of course…I wouldn't say anything you wouldn't want me to."
"Good. Let's leave it at that then. Shall we?" She smiled back at Kate more with her eyes than her mouth.
"Sure- if that's what you want."
"I do." Caroline left the Kitchen, leaving Kate in utter confusion. Who the hell was this stranger?
When Caroline reached her bedroom she ambled over to her standing mirror and started staring at her self in the mirror. A conversation that took place a million years ago- or so it seemed- did a replay in her head.
I am a drunk, Caroline. No, not the fabled fall down piss in your trousers drunk. I've yet to fall face down on the cold hard pavement in some backstreet or alley. Nor do I covet the shelter of a cardboard box, thank God. I am a gentleman's drunk. I am permitted to stumble out of the best of joints, because I am appareled in a fancy suit, handmade brogues, and a soft wool overcoat placed about my shoulders. All of which though expensive, if given a closer look will show the dishevelment of a drunk's neglect. Funny how no one notices the obvious. The obvious being, among other things of course, I am in need of both a tidy up and most importantly a sober up.
I am a drunk, to be sure, Caroline. I marvel at the sight and sound of the alcoholic drink being poured over ice that crackles and dances against the glass. As I watch the glorious pour, my body humbles to the sound and sight, and my tongue yearns for the warmth of the drink that will saturate my mouth. And then the gulp- oh that gratifying gulp, which will seize hold of my body without mercy. Don't look at me like that Caroline there are worse things to be. Ask your mother- Celia. She'll tell you. I bet- in a minute or less.
Hardly a man of few words he rambled on allowing no opportunity for Caroline to jump into the conversation. Not that it really mattered. He wanted only to give vent to his pent-up frustrations; not engage in a two way conversation.
"Yes, love. I am a drunk, but not the sort of fellow without honourable delusions. Dare I admit that during the interruption of sobriety, when wisdom is accommodated, I hold firm a belief that the right motivator could dull my insane penchant. But there in lies the problem, my dear Caroline. I have no "right motivator". He used his fingers to make air quotation marks. "Not now. No. Not any more. My right motivator has become nothing more than an empty vessel. Dispossessed of past and present."
Half talking to himself, half talking to Caroline, he kept going. "Hell, maybe I never did- have the right motivator. A bloody delusion- twenty years of utter madness. Precariously, living two lives- hanging on to…whatever the hell it was. In the end it was nothing was it? Love, Caroline, it makes fools of all of us."
There was no other image but her own reflection staring back at Caroline in the free standing mirror, yet she could have sworn she saw him looking at her. Small and pitiful. Walter Higgins, the stranger who had phoned to speak to her not just once but four times. She wrapped her arms around herself, as she brought to mind the Walter Higgins as she remembered him.
He was a fine featured man. Handsome- you might say. Dapper for sure. Dark haired. Slim- small boned, appeared fit enough. Rather shortish- Caroline stood taller than him. His Cambridge education- well the whole gamut of his social standing- stood out front and centre: in his speech; his demeanor; in his dress. He never tried to hide his wealth nor did he flaunt it. In his early days he would have been quite the catch. When Caroline first met him she tried her damnedest not to like him. But as Kate once told her "People can't help how they feel, Caroline." He was a likeable man but she kept that to herself. For the sake of….well for everyone's sake she supposed. Until Alan came along, Celia spent her days and nights hating him; wishing him nothing but ill will. Caroline, however did nothing of the sort.
Caroline let go a very deep sigh but it did not erase the memory of all those years ago. Nor did it give direction of what next to do. She stood in front of the mirror, eyes closed, motionlessly. That was until Kate entered the bedroom and startled her back to the here and now.
"Caroline- your mother is…Celia is here. You sure you're alright Caroline?"
Caroline turned away from the reflection in the mirror and looked directly at Kate. She wanted to tell her something but couldn't find the words. She instead left the matter hanging and said: "Is she…here, my mother? Right. I'll be…down in a minute." Caroline was still staring at Kate when a smile broke across her face. "You won't forget…will you…not to mention to my mother about the phone…."
"No, no course not."
Caroline tilted her head to the side still maintaining her smile. A smile in between resolute and sad.
"Caroline…this…whatever it is…it will be alright. Won't it? I haven't spotted trouble have I?"
To be continued.