In the Land of Sweetwater
Chapter Seven
Talk Less, Listen More
"This is for you, and this as well," Victoria said, all business as she plunked down two heavy books—one for algebra and other for world geography—on the table in front of me. A gorgeous day, we decided my first lesson would be held on the back veranda.
She looked over her clipboard and clicked her tongue. "Your education at your previous school was subpar. I hope you're ready to work hard this summer so you can transition into Sweetwater prep a prepared young woman."
I tapped one of my freshly sharpened no. 2 pencils, also courtesy of Victoria, against the notebook she'd brought with her for me to use. "I'll give it my best."
"Very well. Now, as I was building a plan for you, I decided I'd ask which language you'd like to learn. My recommendations are French as it is a popular choice for a girl of your social standing, or perhaps Latin."
"I could keep up with the priest on Sundays if I learned Latin."
"This is true. Is that what you prefer?"
"I trust you to decide. Something tells me I have far to go with learning English let alone a foreign language."
Victoria surprised me by laughing, a decidedly musical sound despite her stern appearance. "Oh, Isabella, I do believe we'll get along just fine. Now," she began, shifting gears and becoming stern once more. "I'd like to begin with a prayer and then we'll jump into mathematics."
I agreed, feeling like I'd need divine intervention to get through some of the equations I saw within those pages. It must have worked, though, because much like Frank did, Victoria said I had a knack for numbers. It all made better sense once I'd determined the order of operations. "Now apply that amount of vigor to this," Victoria said as she plunked down yet another book in front of me pulled from that endless canvas bag of hers, but this one was much smaller with a plain cover and no words along the spine.
"Wuthering Heights?" I said as I opened it up to the title page.
"Oh, yes. An invigorating read that runs the gamut of human emotion. I'd prefer you have it read by this time next week. Do you think you can manage that?"
I always made quick work of novels and knew I'd probably have it read much sooner. "No problem at all."
"Swell. Your grades in English are acceptable, but the fact you've never read works from any of the Brontë sisters shows me how far you have to go with the classics."
Of course. Victoria and her classics she had a fit over during our lunch with Edward and Charles. "I'm looking forward to the challenge," I said good naturedly, the pull of the sunny afternoon drawing my attention to the gardens. I was beginning to regret my decision to quit school. It made sense at the time, but in hindsight, I still ended up penniless in Sweetwater. To add insult to injury, I now had to meet with Victoria when I wanted to be roaming about.
"Iasbella!"
I jumped and glanced up at Victoria who was watching me like a hawk. "You seem distracted," she said.
"I'm sorry. I was thinking of reading in the garden."
"What a lovely idea," Victoria said with a sigh. "I used to do that very thing when I was young."
"You did?"
Victoria hesitated, peering at me over her glasses before she gave in. "I knew a man once who worked in these gardens during the depression. He was here for the summer and my sister and I, we were here all the time with Eleanor acting as our guardian while Papa was away. I haven't... I've not thought about Jamie in years."
There was a certain wistfulness in Victoria's voice that made me think of the kiss I shared with Edward. Somehow, I was sure my voice would sound similar if ever I told the tale. "A summer romance?" I asked, tentative and more than willing to change the subject from schooling. Maybe it was the heat or the heady scent of roses and honeysuckle on the breeze, but I wanted to hear her story.
She smiled despite her sad eyes. "Half a year. My sister, Edward's mother, she was Papa's little darling. The baby. I was the awkward older sister. All those common tropes you see, the kind, ugly sister and the cruel, beautiful sister, but it was my reality. At least I thought so"
I'd never seen Elizabeth, but if her son was any indication, I knew Victoria's perceived shortcomings weren't unfounded. And I knew that reality as well, only my mother was the cruel beauty whose shadow I walked in. "I understand."
"I appreciate that. Elizabeth caught the attention of whomever she pleased, young and beautiful as she was. I was contemplating taking a year between graduation and beginning my time at Wellesley to help care for our mother who was very sick at the time. Elizabeth looked just like Mother," Victoria added with a laugh and shake of her head. "I'd never caught anyone's attention while Liz had suitors lined up down the block."
"Edward looks like her, doesn't he?"
"He does. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He lacks her cruelty, though. There were times I worried he would follow in her footsteps, but he seems to have come around this past year or so. Liz didn't receive her comeuppance until the scandal broke."
"Carlisle and Esme."
"Yes. Esme, the gorgeous clothes designer from New Orleans who Liz personally paid to have brought up to Sweetwater to create a new spring wardrobe. Who knew she'd be using her inheritance to house her husband's mistress."
My eyes widened. I hadn't heard all that. "Oh. Well, that's something."
"Listen to me gossiping about old news. I shouldn't have said any of that," she said, clamming up.
"But what about Jamie?" I asked with hope she'd at least finish that part of her story.
"I met him here in the gardens as I sought out sanctuary from Liz and her colorful tongue. I believe she'd referred to me as a frizzy-haired horse-face that morning."
I gasped. "That's awful."
She waved her hand. "Normally I wouldn't have been bothered, but I was particularly sensitive that day for some reason. I thought I was alone with my tears and there Jamie was dressed in dirty overalls. He had the bluest eyes shining from beneath the brim of his cap. He was very plain spoken, Jamie. Guileless. He asked what a pretty rich girl like me had to cry about. I was so shocked to be spoken to like that I started to laugh."
"I can imagine."
"Every day after that I'd find myself wandering out here hoping to see Jamie or speak to him. He was, well, I guess one would call him simple. He was a hard worker and honest to a fault, but he was never going to be an intellectual. In the evenings when the weather was nice, we'd meet out here and I'd read to him. He was illiterate, you see, and I was helping him learn. He told me I'd make a good teacher," she said as her eyes shimmered with tears.
"From what I can tell you are," I said as I reached over and briefly squeezed her hand.
She nodded and composed herself. "He stayed on here through the winter as a groundskeeper. Helped man the front gate during parties. I'd kept him to myself until that Christmas party when he let it slip in front of Liz and our papa. Papa threw a fit and forbade me from ever seeing Jamie again. Liz made fun of me for loving a... a word I don't like to say because Jamie was never that word. I had just turned eighteen, but was still under Papa's rule. Eleanor fired Jamie that night despite it being Christmas Eve and I never saw him again."
My heart was broken for Victoria. "Thank you for telling me. I'm so sorry that happened to you."
She shrugged. "Some decisions are difficult. I learned long ago my parents would rather me be a childless schoolmarm than to have married below my station."
"It's hard to live our lives when there's an overwhelming presence lording over us," I said quietly, thinking of all the times I pushed myself aside to help Mama and how, no matter what, she still felt I owed her something.
"Jamie was from the same town as you are. Going back there to pick up your records must have stirred my memory. I'd been there once before when I took the bus to see if I could find him. His uncle was the only one left and he said Jamie took a train out west looking for work. I never heard a word about him again." She stood and began to gather her things. "You're very easy to talk to, Isabella. Too easy. I would greatly appreciate it if we never speak of this again."
"My lips are sealed. But for what it's worth, I'm glad you got to know him." If I never saw Edward again, I knew I wouldn't forget him. A mark had been left inside me already, the kind that wouldn't fade over time.
Victoria stopped what she was doing and looked me straight in the eye. "There are people in this town who would love to tear down a bright, beautiful girl like you. You weren't raised here and I believe you may be better off for it. Don't let anyone make you feel inferior, Isabella. You'll only grow to regret all the times you let someone steal your happiness when they never deserved one iota of your time to begin with."
"How awful," I said to myself with a shiver as I finished up the third chapter in Wuthering Heights and all its talk of ghosts. I closed the book and rolled over onto my back marveling at the thick softness of the grass beneath me. I'd worn navy Bermuda shorts that morning, the one pair I'd picked out at Esme's, and a navy and white sailor shirt that went with them. It felt nice to be wearing something other than dresses. Like usual, my shoes were in a heap next to me. I tilted my face toward the lowering sun that lit the wispy clouds in muted shades of gold and dusty blue. Everything looked shadowed and I wondered how many tales of love and heartbreak the gardens had seen over the years. Victoria and Jamie. My parents. Maybe even my long gone aunt Marie. Would they bear witness to my own?
I heard the soft padding of someone walking along the grass. I knew it was Edward before I turned toward the sound, a smile already spread across my face. He'd been working all day from what I could tell, a white undershirt the only thing beneath his own pair of dirty overalls. There was something wildly appealing seeing him in such a state, winding down from a hard day's work, and, if his answering grin was any indication, happy to see me.
"Hello, Edward," I said softly, taking him in with my gaze. He looked so tall above me as my eyes traced up his legs to his beautiful hands before I focused on the thick vein in his left forearm that ran up to the toned muscle of his bicep. I knew his shoulders were broad, but seeing them exposed was one of the most compelling sights I'd ever seen. From there, my gaze traveled to his face, catching his eyes and the fevered look in them that had me trapped in an instant.
"I like the way you look at me," he said, his voice deep and deliberate.
I licked my lips as I thought of the way he kissed me and how us being alone like this probably wouldn't do us a bit of good. Edward seemed to understand the war inside me because instead of lying next to me on that grass like I was beginning to imagine, he sat down near my feet, pulling one into his lap as he tickled the arch. That little bit of silliness and our laughter tempered the moment into something easier to bear than my sharp want of him.
"I missed you yesterday," he said as he pushed his thumbs into the arch of my foot.
"Hm. That's nice."
"The foot rub or me missing you?"
"Both, I guess. I missed you as well."
He seemed please with my admission. "I noticed Aunt Vic's car earlier. How did your lessons go?"
"Well, I think. My homework," I said as I picked up the book and showed it to him. "Wuthering Heights."
"Ah. I never could finish that one."
"I don't think it will end well," I said with my thoughts on Victoria's story. I wanted to discuss what I'd learned with Edward, but I promised Victoria I wouldn't speak of it again. It wasn't my story to tell and it was more than enough that a near stranger would entrust me with such personal information.
Edward wiggled one of my toes playfully. "Maybe it'll surprise you."
"I don't like surprises all that much. I like when things run smoothly."
"Not all surprises are bad," he countered, switching to my other foot.
"I know they aren't. I guess I haven't had many good ones. They've all been different levels of difficult."
"So hang on to the good ones. Tell me one?"
I thought about his question for several moments before the most obvious choice surfaced. "I won a bicycle in a contest. I remember filling out the entry form and thinking I wouldn't win because I didn't have a telephone number to write down. But two weeks later, Mama and I were sitting down to dinner when a truck came pulling up to our house. It was the owner of the shop with that bicycle in the back. I'd won and he knew enough about me and mama that he just brought it to me. I cherished that bicycle up until last week."
"What happened to it?"
I shook my head. "I left it behind when the sheriff came to bring me into the station."
"Why would he have to do that?"
"My mama was in an accident and no one knew about Charles. I'd just learned about him last Thursday. Mama died later that day in a car accident."
Edward had stopped and was looking at me with wide eyes. The sun was a smudge on the horizon casting Edward's face in troubled shadows. "Why didn't you tell me? God, Isabella. I thought you'd had more time. Are you doing all right?"
I sat up and took his hands in mine. "You have to understand, Edward. My mama was... she was a complicated woman. Didn't acknowledge my presence if she could help it. It wasn't all awful, but I'm beginning to see just how wrong Mama had been to me. I think if we'd been closer, I'd be more of a mess. Trust me, I've had my moments, but I finally feel like I can breathe, too. And I'm not sorry for that."
Edward scoffed. "It doesn't make sense. Why would she keep you from Charlie when he could have helped you out of that bad spot?"
"I don't know. Fear of his mother? I wish I could ask her all those questions, but I can't. Charles said he'd take care of everything. I guess I own that old house, as ramshackle as it is."
"Eleanor could be overwhelming, but she wasn't that bad. I was close to her when I was young. My mother and I spent a lot of time with her back then, before she got sick."
"She knew about me. Charles said she left me a trust."
Clearly confused, Edward said, "You're a goddamn mystery, Isabella."
I laughed at his choice of words. "I'm not the mystery. Everyone else is. What is that old saying—dead men tell no tales?"
"Something like that. I truly am sorry. I thought... I don't know what I thought."
"It really is all right, Edward. I won't lie to you about that."
Edward sighed and seemed to fixate on all the fireflies that were beginning to blink all around us. "May I walk you to the house, Isabella? I'm sure it's time for supper."
"Yes you may," I answered and allowed him to pull me to my feet.
"What about your shoes?"
"I'll carry them," I said, but Edward had already gathered them up along with my book and held out his free hand for me to take.
"Such a gentlemen," I commented.
He leaned over to kiss my forehead. "I hope you never have reason to see me any other way."
As soon as Edward and I stepped through the back kitchen entrance, we could hear the murmuring of voices. Edward sat my belongings on a side table and led me through the back hallway to the dining room where, to our surprise, and perhaps Edward's dismay, Charles, Carlisle, and Esme sat at the table having a smoke and a drink.
"Isabella!" Charles boomed with a smile. "I was wondering where you were. I was informed you were in the gardens and I didn't want to disrupt you."
"Hello," I said, fully aware of Edward standing stiff as a board beside me. "Rhodes said you'd be home tomorrow. I'm sorry I wasn't here to welcome you."
"That's quite all right. We finished up early and I wanted to get back."
"Did things go well?"
"They did indeed," he said, his mood lighter than I thought him capable. "I believe Esme here would like to speak with you about a few things."
I looked to Esme who was openly staring at Edward before she turned to me, distracted. "Yes, Carlisle and I accompanied Charlie. I took the liberty of picking out a wider wardrobe for you as well as an array of formal wear you'll be needing. Everything is being delivered to your room."
"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to do all that," I said feeling shy.
She smiled as she looked down to where my and Edward's hands were joined. "It was my pleasure."
Carlisle had noticed our handholding as well, but his gaze was heavier and more intense when I met his eyes. Would I ever not be unnerved by him? There was nothing strange about him, he'd been perfectly nice, but I felt like he was looking through me. Maybe it was the lawyer in him seeking out the truth in people, but I had a hard time being the subject of his scrutiny.
"I'm going to go," Edward whispered in my ear, clearly wanting to get out.
"Edward, may I speak with you for a moment?" Esme asked with that same raw look on her face that I'd seen on her at church.
"I worked all day. I need to get cleaned up," he answered, his ticking jaw giving him away.
I looked over to Charlie, feeling awkward about the possibility of the Cullens having it out in the dining room, and he just smiled and shrugged like the situation was commonplace.
"Isabella, I heard you began studying with Victoria Masen today. How was it?" Carlisle asked me, ignoring his son and his second wife who got up to follow Edward down the hall.
"Very well, thank you."
He laughed heartily and puffed on his cigar, looking dapper despite having traveled a long distance. "Serious little thing she is. You'll have to forgive her lack of humor."
"Then you'll have to excuse mine because I found her company entertaining."
His seraphic eyes narrowed a little and I could see that if we'd been anywhere else besides my father's house in my father's presence, Carlisle wouldn't have let me speak to him in such a way. A chill ran up my spine. "Hopefully you don't squander your opportunity at an education the way my son has. His rebellious nature may not be the best thing for you to be exposed to."
"Edward will find his way," Charles said calmly but with a finality even Carlisle couldn't contest.
Rhodes served us not long after that and the three of us ate, me quietly listening to Charlie and Carlisle speaking about some hotel deal in San Francisco they made. My attention was drawn to the hall wondering whether or not Esme and Edward would return before it became obvious I was waiting on them. Unfortunately, after a long enough wait that our plates had been cleared from the table, the only one to return was Esme and that was just to grab her purse and to say a rushed goodbye.
She'd been crying. I worried what state Edward was in.
Carlisle sighed and told her to wait for him in the car. "I see that son of mine has struck again. My apologies, Charlie."
Charles leaned back in his chair and sipped his drink. "All will be well in the end."
"Ha! I hope so. Thank you for dinner."
"You're always welcome."
Carlisle nodded in my direction before he followed Esme, leaving Charles and I alone. He turned to me and said, "Well, that turned out to be an eventful evening. Nothing like being witness to the trials of other families."
I had to chuckle at that. "There seems to be a lot of that around here."
"You'll notice that, Iasbella. People like to keep up their appearances, but they love to gossip."
"Do you?"
His lips twitched. "I'm more of a listener."
"I think I am too. I'm glad your trip went well."
"It went very well. I named a lowball price and the man agreed right away. Nothing better than a motivated seller."
"I wouldn't know."
He reached over to pat my shoulder. "Did you have a good time while I was away? I asked Edward if he'd show you around town."
"Yes and he did. I saw more of Sweetwater and we had lunch at Mott's with Rosalie Hale and Katherine Talbot," I said with a smile, thinking of the best part of our day that didn't require us to go anywhere after all. What happened after Edward left was a different story. "Mr. Black delivered Mama's ashes."
Charles nodded. "A message was left with my secretary. Are you all right?"
I was getting tired of answering that question. "I am. But I finally went through her belongings and I found something I wanted to ask you about," I said as I pulled the small velvet pouch from my pocket. I'd been carrying the brooch around with me since I discovered it, it's small size making it easy to do.
Charles sat up and took the pouch. "You said this was in your mother's things?"
"Yes. She pawned it several months ago and used the money she took from me to get it out. The receipt was with it. Burrow and Sons."
"She shouldn't have had this."
I nodded, somehow already knowing that. "It's a swan, so I thought maybe there was a connection. And it being so expensive."
"This was a gift from my father to my sister after her Confirmation. For her overcoat. Mother made a fuss about it because it was too precious a gift for a child. Burrow and Sons, you say?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to keep this if you don't mind."
"Not at all," I said, Charles' suddenly troubled appearance troubling me right along with him.
"Perhaps you'd like to go through your new things? I'm sure Esme will come over tomorrow once things have settled down."
I knew enough to realize Charles was asking for privacy. "That sounds like a fine idea. Goodnight, Charles. I'm glad you're home."
"I'm happy to be home. Goodnight to you as well, Isabella. I'll be in my office for awhile should you need anything."
I nodded and began to make my way up to my room. There was no sign of Edward anywhere, not that I expected there to be. If Esme was that upset, I imagined Edward was equally upset. At least in anger. There was obviously more to the story where Edward and Esme were concerned. I could only hope he'd eventually share the rest of it with me. It was plain to see there was much more than just resentment toward his father's new wife.
Halfway down the darkened hall, I was startled by the sound of a door opening behind me. I whipped around, my hand clutched to my chest. "Hello?" I called out, but I was only greeted with quiet. I backtracked several steps until I saw which door had opened. It wasn't open all the way, barely wide enough for me to slide inside. I had explored that very room days before, the one with the massive wardrobe and peach decor. After I turned on the light, I immediately noticed the lone window in the room was lifted slightly, probably forgotten by maids who tended to open the windows as they cleaned. The breeze was just enough it could have rattled the door. Satisfied with my explanation as to why the door had opened seemingly by itself, I closed the window down tight and left the room, making sure the door latched firm.
It wasn't until late that night as I was curled up asleep in my bed that my subconscious mashed up and distorted the events of the day. In my dream, it was Marie's door that opened, and opposite of that awful book Victoria had me reading, there were ghosts of girls in beautiful clothes begging to be let out.
AN: Thank you for reading.
