Chapter 7
She slowly awoke to the sound of the ticking of a wristwatch. She first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was a brown suitcase, situated on the floor near the nightstand.
"Turn your head," a voice said, softly. She did as she was told, still in a half-daze. Suddenly, she saw who was speaking to her and felt a groan echo from her throat. He lifted her head with one hand and gently put a small flask to her lips with another. "Have some…" he directed.
"No," she moaned, pushing the flask away.
"Come now. Do as you're told," he demanded, still speaking in a soft whisper. She hadn't the energy to protest any longer and eventually began to drink from the flask. She was not entirely certain what it was, but she could feel it burn her throat and her eyes soon filled with tears.
"Enough!" she entreated, beginning to cough. She looked about herself and saw that she was now lying across the bed. He sat next to her and was now placing the flask on the night table. She closed her eyes and returned her head to the pillow. He lifted his hand to her forehead and touched it softly. She could feel his eyes staring at her, concerned.
"You're in a cold sweat," he stated, pulling out a handkerchief. He lifted a nearby glass of water and poured a little onto the handkerchief, placing it over her eyes. "Are you sick?" he asked.
"No…" she murmured. "I mean… I don't know." She threw the handkerchief to the side and quickly struggled to sit up.
"Careful!" he said, holding her shoulders as she made her way to a sitting position. "Come now…" he whispered, patting her cheek. "Tell your Uncle Charlie what's wrong with you."
"You're not my 'Uncle Charlie'," she snapped, pushing his hands away. "You stopped being my dear uncle as soon as you tried to have me break my neck on the backstairs."
He sighed painfully. "I was afraid of that…"
"You should have been. What are you doing here?" she asked irritably.
"I needed to see you."
"Why?"
"I received your mother's letter and thought I should at least talk with you before you decide to go through with it," he admitted.
"What?" she gasped, horrified. "What do you mean, 'go through with it'? What did Mother tell you?"
"Relax, Charlie. I know about the wedding and-"
"But she said she didn't write about it!" she exclaimed, trying to pull herself off the bed.
"Now Charlie, you're not well. Stop moving so much." He grasped onto her shoulders once more as she struggled to get free. "You'll make yourself faint again."
"Let me go!" she demanded, still struggling.
He pulled her closer to him. "Charlie, sit still!"
"Don't hold me like that!" she cried fiercely. At last she stopped struggling and relaxed on the bed, rubbing her face in distress. "Please go away," she begged. "I don't want to talk to you. I told you I didn't want to see you again. You promised!"
"I know I did, but-"
"Go!" she demanded. "Go before Mother sees you! If she does, she'll never allow you to leave!"
"Do you really want me to leave?" he asked, pulling her hands from her face. "I'll go if you want me to… But first I need to talk to you."
"Well, start speaking then, if you must," she mumbled, resigned.
He stood from the bed and crossed the room nervously. "Something's wrong with me, Charlie," he at last said.
She glanced up, worried. "What's wrong? Are you sick too?"
"Not sick. Just… Tormented. I can't stop worrying about the way we ended things when I was last here, no matter how hard I try. And when I heard that you were getting married, I couldn't hold myself back any longer."
"Why would you care if I got married?" she asked.
"I want you to be happy, Charlie," he said, grasping onto the bedposts. "And I know that a girl like you will never be happy with a simpleton like Jack Graham. You want to see the world and experience things, just as I did when I was young."
"How would you know that?"
"We're alike, aren't we? The same blood runs through our veins and the same desires fill our hearts. You weren't meant for a small town like Santa Rosa. You should experience everything that this world has to offer."
"That's not what you said before," she said. "You said that I was just a silly little girl. Isn't that exactly what you said?"
"Charlie…" he groaned, returning to her side. "Forget about what I said. I'm different now. I've changed." She intensely scrutinized him, trying to read his expression. Maybe he had changed. But that wouldn't make her forget all that he had done.
"How could I experience the world," she began at last. "When the one person who would be able to show it to me has lost my trust forever?" He stared at her and straightened himself, agitated. She did not believe her words could hurt him, yet he seemed distraught.
"I'm sorry to hear you say that, Charlie…" he whispered. "If I had been in my right mind before, I never…" His voice began to fade. "But I suppose there's no point in fretting about the past. What's important is the present. I've told you that. So tell me right now… Do you want to settle for Jack Graham and live the remainder of your life in a small town? If that's really what your heart desires, I promise I'll go."
She tried desperately to mouth the word yes, but for some reason her lips refused. Perhaps it was because he was begging them not to do so. Much to both of their surprise, she was soon unable to give him an answer. Right as she was about to speak, the door swung open and Emma was now staring at both of them in shock.
"Charles!" she squealed, crossing quickly to them. "What are you-"
"Hello, Emma!" he greeted, lifting himself from the bed and embracing her. "How's my dear sister?"
"I'm fine, dearest! But what are you doing-"
"I received your letter and came as soon as I heard about Charlie's delightful news." He glanced past Emma and saw Ann, now standing in the doorway, her eyes widened.
"But I never wrote about the wedding in my letter…" Emma said. Charles was no longer listening to her.
"Hello, Ann. You've grown considerably since I last saw you."
"Ann…" Emma said, a sense of warning in her voice. "Give your Uncle Charlie a kiss." After a moment of hesitation, Ann reluctantly crossed to him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
"That's my dear girl," he said, patting her face. "Well, I see everything is just about the same, Emma. It's all still quite enchanting."
"Charles, I'm so happy to see you…" Emma now noticed Charlie, who was still lying on the bed, a look of pain on her face. "Charlie, what's wrong?"
"I'm afraid I startled her, Emma," Charles answered. "I meant to surprise her, but ended up frightening her to the point of fainting."
"Oh my!" Emma gasped, crossing to Charlie, concerned.
"Don't worry, Mother. I'm fine."
"Well, perhaps I should go call a doctor."
"No, really! I don't need a doctor. I just need to relax for a while, I suppose."
"Yes, do relax, dear," she entreated. "Perhaps your Uncle Charlie will keep you company."
"I'd be happy to," Charles said, staring at Charlie with a feigned smile.
"Excuse me one moment, Charles," Emma said, leaving the room. "I just need to go call Joe at the bank. He'll want to know you're here." Emma skipped out of the room excitedly.
Charles sat next to Charlie and was about to return to their previous conversation when he suddenly noticed Ann, who was now seated at the vanity table staring at them unnervingly. "Oh… Ann. I didn't realize you were still here." She made no reply. "Uh… Perhaps we should all go downstairs," he suggested, preparing to help Charlie sit up.
"I can stand on my own," she said faintly, crossing out of the room. He watched her exit and turned back to Ann, who was now slowly crossing the room.
"It's nice to see you, dear," he said. "We'll have to get to know one another on this trip."
"Oh, I think I know you well enough," Ann said, leaving the room brusquely. He stared after her, disconcerted. He hoped desperately that she didn't know him well enough.
