Isobel entered the hospital and made her way to Doctor Clarkson's office. She knew his schedule. He would be in by now, going over his patients' charts. She knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in," he murmured from the other side. "Nurse Grey," Doctor Clarkson stood as Isobel entered the room. "It's good to see you return. I understand that Catie is now in your care. Inspector Rollins informed me as much." He smiled, motioning for his favorite nurse to take a seat opposite his desk.
"Yes," Isobel answered, "Lady Violet found her. And I am now Catie's legal guardian. We've adopted her." Isobel looked up at the doctor. "I'm glad Inspector Rollins told you we found her. Though I'm not quite sure as to how he knew that we had her," Isobel wondered for a moment. "We should have told him, but, I'm afraid in our joy, we rather forgot."
Doctor Clarkson chuckled. "The Dowager Countess appears to have you covered on all fronts again. It was she who told the inspector." He rubbed his mustache thoughtfully, curious as to how much the Mertons now owed old Lady Grantham. More than she'll ever let them forget, he grinned to himself. He then looked up at Nurse Grey. "So, what brings you here today? You're not due back to work until Friday." He watched her intently.
"Well," Isobel said, squeezing her hands, "I was wondering if there was something about Catie that you had not mentioned to me."
"As in?" Doctor Clarkson wondered what she was suggesting.
"Night terrors," Isobel said simply. "She has had one with us. The car crash…her parents…she woke up screaming," Nurse Grey asserted, staring at Doctor Clarkson.
He rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. "I had rather thought she had gotten past those," he replied sorrowfully.
"So, there have been more?" Isobel pressed for details.
"Yes," Doctor Clarkson admitted and then continued. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a file, thumbing through it. "When Catie first came to us, she had one almost every night. Always the same thing. Her parents and that car wreck. She was trapped inside that automobile, you know, until the police came." He shrugged his shoulders, debating whether he should offer Nurse Grey his honest opinion.
"I imagined as much," Isobel murmured, wiping the corner of her eye.
"Those nightmares had stopped when she began to get closer to you and Lord Merton. I think you both provided her a sense of security," Doctor Clarkson admitted, returning to his chair.
"Then…" Isobel stuttered, "why are they coming back? We have adopted Catie. We will always care for her. She is ours, as much as any child of my flesh and blood could be. I love her, so very much." She looked into Doctor Clarkson's eyes, willing him to understand how much this little girl meant to her.
Doctor Clarkson straightened in his chair. He knew that the Mertons had become rather fond of Catie…that they loved her. He provided a straightforward answer. "Something must have triggered them."
"But what…" Isobel stammered, then a hand flew to her mouth. "I fell. I fell down the steps, and Catie saw."
Doctor Clarkson looked shocked. He was about to stand and examine Nurse Grey, when her hand brushed him aside.
"I'm fine," Isobel asserted, "not a scratch on me. My left foot is a bit bruised, but, I thought, it was hardly the stuff of great drama. I tripped, rather foolish of me, really. Not paying a bit of attention," she dismissed her fall with a wave of her hand. Her mind returned to Catie, and she continued. "But Catie…Catie…she saw me. She froze. She was so frightened. All she could practically do the rest of the evening was to ask if I was okay, like I could break." Isobel could not find the words to describe the startled expression on Catie's face from that night.
Doctor Clarkson leaned back in his chair, placing his hands at the edge of his desk. "I suppose," he started, "that your accident terrified Catie. Perhaps, the little thing became aware of the fact that she could lose you too. You and Lord Merton. And that is something that Catie will not accept again – loss. The possibility of it terrifies her. Though," he chuckled, "as your doctor, I'd say neither you nor your husband are going anywhere for quite a long while."
Isobel nodded her head in understanding and agreement. "What can I do to help her?" She wondered aloud.
Doctor Clarkson finally decided to provide his opinion. "Perhaps, it would be best, if you…all three of you, that is…visit the Connolly home and grave in York. Catie is the sole heir, correct?" Isobel shook her head in answer. "Then," Doctor Clarkson continued, "maybe seeing their resting place…their home…together…could provide some form of closure for the little girl. Maybe she could work through some of that grief she carries."
"She carries more than any six-year-old child ever should," Isobel replied firmly.
"That is why she is so lucky to have you. Nurse Grey," he met her eyes, "I know that you have never given up on her. You will never give up on her. Perhaps, this trip is what Catie needs." Doctor Clarkson tapped his fingers on the desk, curious as to what Isobel would say.
"You know," Isobel admitted, "I think you are right. Quite right actually. I believe I will not be in Friday," Isobel informed him as she stood from her chair and then walked towards the office door. "Doctor Clarkson," she continued.
"Hmmm?"
"Thank you," Isobel said, nodding her head in his direction.
"You're always welcome, Nurse Grey. And thank you for letting me speak so freely," he added.
"Sometimes I need to hear it," Isobel admitted as she walked out the door, smiling softly to herself.
…
That evening, Isobel, Dickie, and Catie sat around the dining table for the first time together as a family.
Their cook had made a wonderful meal to celebrate – roast, potatoes, vegetables – rather traditional and very hearty. The meal reminded Catie of something her Mama would have made for special occasions.
As Isobel wiped her mouth with a napkin, she eyed Dickie, wondering if he would agree to a trip on Friday. Moreover, she was curious if Catie would even want to return to York. Was seeing the graves of her parents something the little thing could handle?
Would it bring closure or re-open a wound that has never fully closed? It never will close, but will it even help? Isobel could not decide.
After Catie downed the last sip of milk from her glass, Isobel decided to broach the topic. "Catie?"
"Yes?" the little girl peeped.
"I wonder if you would like to go on a trip," Isobel hedged her bets. "To York, that is. You see, would you want to or like to see your cottage…your home again?"
Catie went silent. She never imagined returning to the small cottage where she lived with her parents. The young brunette had difficulty picturing herself in the house without her Mama and Father – without anyone to welcome her home.
That will always be my home. That's where my Mama and Father are. My bed, my clothes, my teddy bear. My Father's pictures that hang on the wall. My Mama's knitting that sits in the corner in the basket. My home. But they're not there.
Catie's eyes cast downward. She refused to answer Isobel, fumbling with her fingers instead.
Dickie noticed Catie beginning to shut down. He watched as her legs moved back and forth, swinging under the chair. He coughed, hoping to catch her attention. He glanced at his wife who seemed to become very nervous rather quickly. He decided to try a different method.
"You see, my dear," Dickie began addressing Catie, "we…as a family…have some business to attend to in York. We need to see about your cottage. Because, that's what it is now, Catie, your cottage. Whatever you decide to do with it, we will support you – Isobel and I. We need to check on it though, make sure everything is all right there. Do you understand?"
Catie shook her head. "Yes. Mama and Father would never leave home alone so long. I probably shouldn't either…I think." Catie looked up at Dickie, feeling rather like a grown-up with the responsibility of caring for a house. She straightened in her chair. "Will you come with me?"
Isobel chuckled. Well goodness, we're not letting a six-year-old child go alone. And certainly not my child.
My child.
The words remained in Isobel's head, sinking down into her heart. This little girl…she's my child. Mine. I wonder if she thinks of us as hers.
"Of course, we would go with you," Isobel responded, smiling at the way Catie seemed to accept Dickie's explanation for the trip.
Eyes going wide, Catie quickly added, "We can take a train, right? We won't take a car. Please, can we take the train?" Her voice quavered. Her fear of cars evident.
Isobel understood. She felt much the same about cars after losing Matthew, but she knew that the young girl would eventually overcome that sense of terror. She did and so could Catie.
"Yes," Dickie replied kindly, standing from his chair and walking over to Catie. He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Not to worry," he whispered in her ear, "we'll take the train. It's not too terribly far of a ride."
"Thank you," Catie breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now that is settled," Isobel said, "it's time for everyone to be off to bed."
"Quite right," Dickie responded, "it's getting rather past this little one's bedtime." He noted Catie yawning. "We had rather a late dinner."
"Yes," Isobel replied, "it's been a big day. Come on, Catie, dear, let's go upstairs." Isobel offered her hand, and Catie took it, ready to head to bed.
The two walked up the stairs, and, as Isobel tucked Catie into bed that night, she prayed that the little one would have a peaceful slumber.
No dark memories to torment her child this night.
…
"So, I gather, you spoke with Doctor Clarkson this afternoon," Dickie mentioned as he slid into bed next to his wife that evening. "What did he say about those nightmares?"
"That she's had them before," Isobel replied as she rubbed cream on her hands. "Almost every night after the crash. They had stopped for a short time until my clumsy trip down the stairs triggered them again." Isobel huffed in frustration at herself. "I should have been more careful."
"My Bel," he kissed her forehead, "you're not to blame. We eventually would have had to confront those terrors sooner or later."
Isobel smoother her hands over the sheets, adjusting herself in the bed. "Well, I suppose, you're right," she breathed. "Doctor Clarkson seems to think that going to the Connolly home and grave may give Catie some form of closure."
"And do you agree?" Dickie wondered. Perhaps the doctor has stumbled onto a point, Dickie thought.
"I do," Isobel affirmed, then hesitated. "But…but…I cannot help but wonder if seeing her parents' grave will make things worse. Will that hurt her? Will she be able to understand what it all means? I don't know if I'm making sense or not. I know I'm rambling." Isobel looked at Dickie squarely, trying to dismiss her own feelings. "If this trip upsets Catie further, I'll never forgive myself," she voiced aloud.
Dickie lay quiet for a moment, deep in thought. He brought his hands to rest behind his head on the pillow and let out a breath. "Catie is a very smart child. Very astute. Understanding. Wise, one may say, for a six-year-old. Isobel, I think she will understand. I think she needs this trip, more than any of us even realize," Dickie said as he brought his hand to rest by Isobel's. His fingers slowly wrapped around hers, and he rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, hoping to chase those fears, those doubts from her mind.
"She never really did get a chance to say goodbye, did she?" Dickie spoke sorrowfully. "Catie needs that," he reiterated.
Isobel bit her lip, contemplating Dickie's statement. "I did not even think about that," she whispered. "Of course, she does. She never got that chance, poor thing."
Dickie kissed Isobel's temple. "So, we leave on Friday?"
"Yes," Isobel answered, "You know…I am curious to see the Connolly home. To learn about the man and woman who raised this special little girl. To get some sort of clue as to who they were," Isobel admitted freely.
"As am I," Dickie acknowledged. "They must have been admirable people to raise Catie."
"I think they were," Isobel replied. "Catie loved…loves them dearly. They'll always be her Mama and Father," she said as she turned to her side, shutting her eyes for sleep.
Dickie nodded his head as he laid on the pillow. "Yes," he agreed, "but you're her Isobel."
"Am I?" Isobel yawned and then whispered lower than what Dickie could hear, "but I wish I could be more."
I've always fancied having a daughter.
…
Friday arrived, a crisp, clear, albeit chilly, day in the middle of January. Catie found herself back at the train station; this time, Isobel and Dickie accompanied her.
She waited in line with them at the ticket booth, holding Isobel's hand as she watched people boarding passenger cars.
So…Catie thought…this is how you travel. You have to have a ticket for the right train. The six-year-old filed this new information in the back of her mind.
Dickie purchased the tickets, and they boarded the next train to York. Catie glanced around the railcar as she sat down on the rich burgundy bench between Dickie and Isobel.
She did not remember much from the rail trip she took to Downton when she first arrived. All she could recall was that the seat was uncomfortable and how very scared she was. The bench she now occupied was far more comfortable as was the company she now kept.
As the whistle blew and the train began moving out of the station, Catie wondered if the cottage had changed much since she left it. Would it be dusty? Mama would not like it so very dirty. Will my teddy bear still be on my bed? Are Father's paints dried out?
Thousands of questions ran through the brunette's mind. Then, she shivered as her thoughts turned to the quiet churchyard – the cemetery of the local parish – the place her parents rested.
Catie recalled Inspector Rollins holding her hand as she watched the two caskets being lowered into the earth. She could not summon much more into her mind about that terrible day. At the time, she barely could process what death truly meant – how her Mama and Father were not going to return.
It was not until she was at the hospital when she finally realized that they were gone. Her Mama had said that when people die, if they were good, they would go with God. The Lord has a place for us all, Catherine – that's what her Mama would say.
Mama and Father were good – so that means they went with God. Catie tried to take some comfort from this thought. She began to listen to the clacking of the wheels on the tracks, hoping that the rhythmic sound would chase away those haunted memories.
Isobel watched Catie. A thousand emotions seemed to dance across the little one's face. Isobel wondered what she was thinking. Trying to pretend that she was not watching Catie, Isobel smoothed her navy skirt and picked off a small piece of lint that clung to the lapel of her jacket.
For his part, Dickie glanced between the two of them – his wife and the little girl who had come to occupy a place in his heart. He wondered how this trip would play out – how Catie would react. She must be afraid to return to the place where she lost her parents. Can she handle this? Am I making a mistake? He then turned his gaze solely on Isobel, observing his wife fidgeting with her clothes. Isobel's afraid she could lose Catie again. That this trip could drive her away from us.
As the couple continued to sit in silence, Catie let out a yawn and leaned against Isobel, resting her head on the older woman's shoulder. She snuggled against Isobel, content to sleep the rest of the way to York.
Catie felt safe resting against Isobel.
Taken aback, Isobel smiled softly as the child nestled against her shoulder. Isobel brought her arm around Catie, patting her lap to let the girl know that it was okay to rest on her.
"You can lay on me," Isobel said softly. "I don't mind at all. Rest here for a little while. I'll wake you when we arrive."
Catie's head moved to Isobel's lap, and the nurse ran her fingers through Catie's hair.
"Feet can go here," Dickie added as he lifted Catie's other half into his lap, so her feet laid upon him.
"When will we get there?" Catie whispered as sleep began to creep up on her.
"Not long now," Dickie announced. "Don't worry. We'll wake you. Just get some rest."
…
When the train arrived at the station in York, Dickie and Isobel woke Catie as promised.
Dickie had booked them into a small hotel near the railway, figuring it would be easier on Catie than staying inside her parents' cottage. Luckily, the Connolly home was not too far of a walk from the station, tucked away not too far from the village. No car would be needed to get there.
Thank goodness, Isobel sighed to herself. There will be no driving this trip. Catie will have nothing to fear. She already has so much to face ahead of her.
For their part, Lord and Lady Merton were both curious and worried as to what this visit would uncover. Could it heal their Catie? Or drive a wedge between them?
For Catie's part, she did not know what to expect or how to feel.
I'm going home, but Mama and Father are not there. But Dickie and Isobel said that their home is mine. I don't understand it all. Where do I belong? Mama and Father, she silently prayed, let me know what to do. Do you like Dickie and Isobel? I hope you do.
I continue to be amazed at how many reviews this story has gotten. Thank you so very much. I thank you for your patience at my sometimes-slow updates. I may have gotten a bit distracted by a new Brief Encounters fic I've been working on. I hope you continue to find this story engaging and want to keep reading. There is more on the way. Anyway, if you have the time, leave a review and let me know what you thought. Thanks again!