Charlotte ran her hand along the banister of the back entrance hall as she looked down below. She remembered watching Lazare propose to Therese there one Sunday after mass as they stood on the mosaic floor by the row of fern stands. It was one of the only times that Charlotte remembered her sister looking genuinely happy. She slowly made her way down the stairs and drifted out the French doors into the sun-filled garden.
She missed home so much that she sometimes wondered if coming back for a visit caused her more pain than it was worth. All the memories in this house…Alastair chasing her through the hedge maze as they played Continental soldier, dear old Boudreaux chasing dozens of balls on the lower lawn before he went splashing into the pond, and of course her old pony. Charlotte's only clear memory of Daddy was him holding her on as she circled the paddock on sweet, plodding Guillaume on the Christmas morning she got him.
Charlotte wandered further into the garden and looked for the arch where her swing used to be. Bobby had taken it down nearly 10 years ago, but she always visited anyway. Mama had always been willing to push her when everyone else got tired. Afterwards they would sit in the garden with Charlotte always perched on Mama's lap as poor Mama's arthritis-ridden hands spelt sweet messages out on Charlotte's back. Sometimes, Alistair would join them and sit at Mama's feet as she told them stories of Daddy or Pawpaw or Mama's brother that had never returned from Vietnam—the one for whom Alistair had been named. Charlotte adored this garden. She loved home.
Finally, she reached the stone bench. This was the same bench where Daddy proposed to Mama. Pawpaw had told Mama he would as like she married a dog as Daddy, but Mama had made up her mind and did what she wanted like always. Daddy and Mama were married and buried in the same church where Charlotte had hoped she would marry Spencer. Spencer, who she still ached to see. She just wanted to look up into his soft, kind eyes and tell him that she loved him. She wanted to feel his long, slender fingers wrapped round her hand as he talked about…anything. She could listen to him read a recipe for carrot cake if it meant that he was there with her. Charlotte knew that she would never be able to find another man like Spencer. He was the one she wanted. Her decision to break off the engagement was warping her mind to such a degree that she could not hope to remain professional at work. When she returned to Washington she would have to ask for a leave of absence. It was only fair to the college, since she could hardly teach or research when her brain could not focus on anything but how much she wanted to be with Spencer.
She sat there for well over an hour looking out over the grounds of their home. If it weren't for Bucie, then she would be tempted to stay at home with Bobby, Lucy-Claire, and all the children for a few weeks. However, there was a dressage show that she needed to compete in if she wanted to stay in her current division for Finals in November. Charlotte had to admit to herself that even Finals did not really matter very much. She owed it to Bucie, since he was such a wonderful boy, but she did not really care for herself. It seemed pointless to wipe her face, since she was just going to continue crying anyway. However, she remembered Grand-auntie Antoinette's admonition about a lady crying publicly and absently tried to wipe her cheeks when her phone began to buzz.
It would be him. It had to be him. Surely. Charlotte looked down at the screen and began to truly sob when she saw it was only Alistair. Spencer had not called in nearly 24 hours. Perhaps he had given up. She had ignored over a dozen calls and so many texts, but now that she was ready to talk to him, he had stopped trying. His texts had all sounded distraught, hopeless, confused, and desperate—all the things she felt herself. How had she come to break up with him? Why had he not fought for her then, but just sat foolishly in the car as she ran away? Well…well what? Charlotte gripped her phone and blankly looked down at the screen. Alistair was calling again. She had to answer.
"You are trying to poison me! I know that you and your goons want me to fall for it, so I will not, will not, I will not submit to your torture and questions! You want my secrets, but I won't fall for your lies. I won't tell you anything! I won't give you the satisfaction of breaking me. You won't get to me! You won't!"
Spencer stood just outside his bedroom door as he listened to his mother screaming at the nurses, who had been trying to convince her to take a nap. The newest drug that his mother's psychiatrist had added was having a serious effect on her stability. It was difficult to say how her memory was deteriorating, since her increased paranoia and psychosis overwhelmed everything else. It had been days since she recognised him, although she had not yet forgotten that she had a son named Spencer. She merely refused to believe that her son was older than 11.
Finally, Regina came out of the room as her colleague settled a much calmer Diana into the bed, and said quietly, "We had to give her the Haldol, but it is having its usual effect. I really don't know how much longer we can continue treating your mother here in your home, Spencer. She is deteriorating too quickly for us to manage well here and the cost is going to increase drastically. She will need more physical care soon."
Mute with misery, Spencer nodded.
"I think that we can give you a few more weeks, but you will need a new arrangement soon. Belinda and I are not psychiatric nurses."
"I understand. I will look for someone else to manage the home care."
"Spencer, I don't think that you are really understanding the severity of the situation. Your mother needs round the clock care by a staff of individuals. One nurse is not enough. The cost of this care would be crippling. There are truly excellent facilities that can handle an Alzheimer's patient with more dignity and, quite frankly, better care than we can provide her here."
"I do understand, Regina. I really do. I am responsible for having my mother committed for the schizophrenia when I was 18. I have been through these decisions repeatedly over the last two decades. However, I made her a promise after she was kidnapped earlier this year that I would not leave her again. I have to honour that promise."
Regina sighed. "In all honesty, Spencer, she does not remember that. She is deteriorating surprisingly fast. She will not remember asking you not to leave her and it is unreasonable for anyone to expect you to keep that promise under these circumstances. You have gone about as far as you can go. Far more than any other family member of my patients has ever gone."
"Thank you, Regina. You have been really good to my Mom. I cannot tell you how much that means to me." Spencer felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket and pulled it out absently without looking at it. "I will see about getting someone else to take over from you. I understand." Looking down at the screen of his phone, Spencer suddenly stammered, "I-I'm so sorry. I have to take this. Excuse me."
Spencer turned away and hurried to the apartment door and stepped outside into the hall as he answered, "Charlotte? Are you there?"
"Yes. I saw that you called earlier, but I was out riding and couldn't answer."
He heard the unusually flat tone of Charlotte's voice and bit his lips anxiously. "I'm sorry. I know that you don't want to talk to me and I have tried to give you space these last two days, but I am hoping that you would give me just a few minutes."
"What is it that you want to talk about, Spencer?" Charlotte seemed more resigned than annoyed, but he was not sure that was better.
"Will you let me see you? Please." Spencer tried to imbue his voice with enough urgency to demonstrate his resolve to her. "I know that you are right and all I was doing was panicking about the potential problems that could derail our relationship. I ought to have talked to you about all the many ways that I believe we are wonderful together. Most especially, I should have made sure that you could never doubt that I want to be with you, that I want to marry you, and that I love you so much."
He could hardly hear her reply as she asked, "Why didn't you say something then?"
"I don't know. I think that I was in shock. You ran away, so I felt like I must have ruined everything. Charlotte, will you please let me see you?"
Charlotte hesitated for just long enough that Spencer felt sure that she would refuse, when she finally stated, "Yes, but I went home. If you want to see me then you will have to come here."
"Home…you mean you are in Louisiana?"
"Yes. I am out in Beaux Arbres visiting Bobby and the children now, but I will be going to stay at Charlie's house in Baton Rouge tomorrow."
There was a long silence as he tried to quickly calculate what he needed to arrange before he could leave. Spencer finally answered, "I will have to see if the night nurse that usually stays with Mom when I am on a case can come. I will fly out tomorrow if that is possible."
"Well you know where I will be on Sunday. I will meet you there if you come."
"Ok." Spencer felt his body sag as he realised that she was testing him and that he would not have another chance if he failed. "I can figure that out."
"I'm sorry. I need to go. Lucy-Claire needs my help."
"I will be there, Charlotte." Spencer shook his head to himself as he wondered how he could manage it, but he knew that he would find a way.
Clearly dubious that he would be willing to jump through the row of hoops that she had set for him, Charlotte said, "Well if you are, then you should sit in the family pew, which is the first on the left. However, I wouldn't sit there too early since the ushers don't know you."
"I understand. I will see you Sunday, Charlotte."
"Bye, Spencer."
Spencer flopped back against the railing of the hallway and groaned angrily. He was genuinely surprised that Charlotte would resort to putting him to the test by demanding that she attend church with her extended family all the way in Louisiana. She had led him to believe that she would never make demands regarding his religious participation. Now he had to wonder if she would expect even more. Also, she would probably be there with every sibling from Alistair to Therese. It was essentially an impossible scenario to win. Obviously, he would go anyway, although he now had to figure out which Catholic church in all of Baton Rouge would be the correct one.
