Chapter Seven – Jem's Secret

*Tessa*

I had been a guest as Will referred to me in Mr. Carstair's place for three weeks. For my safely I wasn't allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied. He would have preferred if I didn't leave his home but didn't argue when I told him I wasn't going to give up my job. That night when I arrived at the bookstore, I learned why.

Will and Thomas were sitting near the back of the store. Will had a smug grin on his face while Thomas remained his stoic self.

"You are determined to work and Jem's determined to keep you safe. So where you go, we go." He crossed his arms and settled into the chair.

I tested their ability to follow me a few times by hiding out in the woman's lavatory but Will followed me in, not shy about it at all. He found it amazing that our bathrooms were so much cleaner than the ones reserved for men. I thought I could lose them at the clinic but I was assigned desk duty, not to move from the check in area save for emergencies.

When I wasn't working, I explored the rooms that made up my new home. Outside of the formal parlor and the office, the kitchen and half bath were located on the first floor along with Will's bedroom. His was a bit messy, his bed sheets and blankets spilling off the mattress and onto the floor. His desk was covered with papers and books he bought at the store and packs of playing cards.

The second floor contained four rooms: My bedroom, two spare rooms and one whose door was always locked. It was located at the end of the hall, a good ways away from mine. I was convinced the contents of the room were some dirty secret of Mr. Carstairs when one night I finally learned the truth.

Will was off at one of his poker games, the others having left hours earlier. I was sitting in my room, reading a book of poetry Will actually suggested after he recited some of his own. I wasn't quite sure if he made it terrible on purpose or wasn't aware how it sounded but when I suggested he find some inspiration in the works of others, he went off in search of some. When he returned, book in hand, I was surprised it was Robert Frost.

I had just finished a mug of hot chocolate and was settling in when I heard a high and haunting melody floating through the halls. I threw the covers back and slipped into my house slippers, grabbing my ratted dressing robe along the way. I crept along the wall uncertain why, allowing the music to lead me.

When I found the source I was shy about opening the door. It had been locked for a reason and I didn't want to do anything to upset Mr. Carstairs. Deciding since I'd come this far I mind as well see it through, I opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped in.

The only source of light came from the window, showering Mr. Carstairs in a pale ghostly glow. A violin was propped against his shoulder, his cheek resting against it as the bow moved back and forth in such a fluid manner. The music that flowed was so stunning and magical, I felt myself swaying and letting it surround me.

Just as quickly as the melody started, it ended. My eyes flew open and I was met with his smiling face. I felt embarrassed as I had intruded on what was clearly a private moment. He was clearly dressed for bed, in loose-fitting pajama pants, a simple white t-shirt and his black silk dressing robe.

I scrambled to my feet, the embarrassment written clearly on my face. "I'm sorry Mr. Carstairs; it's just I heard the music and it sounded so beautiful that I found myself drawn to it." I turned to leave when I felt his hand on my arm.

"Tessa, its fine. I forgot you were down the hall. I'm so use to being here alone at this hour that I'm not disturbed by anyone."

I turned around to face him, the moonlight making his silver hair sparkle. "Please call me Jem – everyone else does. It feels so wrong you being so proper with me and so casual with everyone else."

"Your playing was perfect. Was that Vivaldi's Winter?"

Jem nodded and commented on my ear for music. "Not many people of our generation enjoy classical music let alone know what piece someone is playing."

I blushed and explained I thoroughly enjoyed classical music. "I developed a love for it when I started working at the bookstore. It was all that I heard while I was losing myself in various works. But that piece actually reminds me of the Robert Frost poem I was reading in my room. Do you know 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening?'"

"It sounds familiar. Read it to me please?" He asked as he pulled me onto the bed with him. I scooted away from a bit and opened the book, clearing my throat before beginning.

*Jem*

My mind and soul felt content, listening to Tessa speak of Frost's famous rhyme of a lone rider pausing at night on his journey to watch the snow fall from the trees before remembering he needs to continue on his way.

"That reminds me of a poem my father used to tell me before I went to bed every night." I murmured. It has been so long and yet not a day went past that I didn't think of them. Will often asked if I remembered them or my life back in Shanghai and I always told him I didn't.

But the truth was I did. I remembered it so well but never wanted anyone else to know about it. Until now.

Tessa sat back and waited for me recall the poem from memory. I slipped off my dressing robe and closed my eyes, speaking the words that once kept away the demons of the night.

I continued on, recalling the bravado my father used when he spoke the last line: Rage, rage against the dying of the light. When I was younger, I thought he was telling me to fight against sleep, the rage against the loss of the daylight. On the night before what would be his last trip to London, he explained it was about personal struggle.

"Always fight my son. Fight for what you believe and for love. Always rage against the dying light and do not go gentle into that good night."

I opened my eyes to find her not looking at my face but at my arms. Her fingers crept slowly towards me as if she was waiting for me to stop her; she ran one finger lightly along the track marks that served as a reminder of my painful past.

"I've seen the way you shake and fight for oxygen when you get overly excited or stressed. I know that you're addicted to something. Why didn't you tell me?"

I placed my hand over hers and looked into her dark brown eyes. "Your first night here, I heard what you said in the kitchen about men and their addictions. I was ashamed that I had allowed mine to turn me into a man of such desperation. I told your brother and you that I would keep you safe. How could I do so if I so easily succumbed to a drug, becoming a weak shell of myself?"

"How did your addiction start?" She asked.

It was a story Charlotte and Will were familiar with but others were not. It wasn't one you tell in everyday conversation. I only told Charlotte and Will out of necessity but here I was, openly baring my soul and revealing the darkness of my past.

Tessa listened patiently, fighting hard to keep her tears from falling. "So I have to take it or allow my body to fail me and die. And before you ask, no there is no cure for it. I've been to the best doctors and seen all kinds of specialists. They all said the same thing. The drug is the only thing keeping me alive."

I didn't tell her I would die as a result of taking the drug. She didn't need to know that one day in the not so distant future I wouldn't be here when she returned from work one evening. I waited, giving her time to process it all and respond.

"It should not be about how I see you but about how you view yourself. You see yourself as someone who is weak, as a beast because of things out of your control. You are giving your addiction power over yourself rather than fighting against it. You've forgotten your father's words. He wanted his son, his only child to always rage and fight. You've given up and accepted death as an inevitable. He said do not go gentle into that good night and that is what you are doing Jem."

I was shocked. Charlotte had warned me that Tessa had a tough side but I had yet to see it. Now I had. I saw the fire burning within her eyes and heard the fierceness of her word as they sliced away bits of me until I was left bare in front of her. I leaned forward a bit preparing to kiss her when my body betrayed me and I fell off the bed in a fit of violent coughing.

Tessa quickly ran to my side, the fear apparent in her eyes but not reaching her voice. She spoke to me in a clear voice demanding I tell her where my medicine was. I spoke in a raspy voice as the copper liquid spilled over my lips. She wiped it away on her dressing robe and ran to the grab the silver box from my bed side table. She had just loaded the needle when Will unceremoniously threw open the door of my room.

"James!" He shouted, snapping into action. He tore the needle from Tessa's grasp and shoved her out the door despite my gurgling objections. The look on her face was one I wouldn't soon forget.

"You know you don't need to be getting so worked up. I told you being around her would be back for your health. You're lucky I got here when I did." Will prattled on as the drug burned it was through my veins.

He dashed across the room into my private bath and grabbed a wash rag along with a glass of water. When he returned, I felt some of my strength returning but I was still a bit weak. I got onto my bed as Will wiped away the blood and shoved the water in my hand.

I gulped down the cool liquid and pushed him away. I needed to go to Tessa. she needed to understand this wasn't her fault but Will, being stronger than me at the moment, pushed me back down onto the bed and demanded I rest. Knowing I couldn't do anything in my weakened state, I did as he said.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Vivaldi's Four Seasons is one of my favorite pieces of classical music but the Winter one is my favorite along with the poems, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" and "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas.