After the New Year, things settled down into their normal routines at the Sheffield residence. Fran and her mother were entrenched in wedding preparations, the children were back in school, and Maxwell and C.C. were back at work. Well, as back at work as C.C. could handle. She still tired easily, and found that she had to go over columns of numbers three and four times to make sure her totals were accurate. But she still had the knack of schmoozing with potential investors over the occasional lunch. Long-winded formal evening balls were out of the question for her at the moment, but she was more than holding her own and winning over new investors during the limited outings she could endure.
There had been no further discussion between her and Niles about their almost-close encounter in the kitchen on Boxing Day. But that which hadn't happened still weighed heavily in the back of her mind. She couldn't deny the electricity she'd felt when the butler's lips had been only millimeters away from hers. Her already overworked brain kept kicking around conflicting emotions...how could she feel anything for him? He was only the butler. But, back on the airplane, she remembered her thoughts had been about him. Why? No matter how she tried to deny it, she couldn't help feeling something for him. His penetrating blue eyes. His tousled blond hair. His razor-sharp wit, which never left any insult from her untouched. Her mother would reach for her smelling salts if she ever suspected that her daughter had feelings for a common servant. But Niles was anything but common. He had a degree from Oxford, which was certainly worth at least two from Yale or whichever university degrees had been bought by her mother's preferred suitors. Niles was intelligent, and had earned everything he'd achieved, unlike the third and fourth-generation blue bloods her mother kept forcing upon her. Their degrees had been pretty much guaranteed due to their parents' bequests to the university.
C.C. sighed to herself, as she sat in her room and looked outside at the dismal, grey January skyline. Life had been so much easier before, hadn't it? She got up and walked to the window, looking at the deserted street below her. Or had it? She remembered that night that Niles had kissed her. Well, truth be told, they'd kissed each other. Fervently. But they'd been insulting each other just seconds prior. And he'd made her cluck like a chicken, to boot. What kind of sickness was that? C.C. began pacing around the room...was she not capable of a normal relationship? Did it have to be strange and weird and...abusive to grab her attention? Was it really abusive, what she and Niles shared? Sure, he was quick to call her a cow or a man-beast, but usually only in response to her put-downs. She sat down in a chair and sighed again. Sometimes his barbs hurt, and sometimes they were a turn-on. Why was everything so confusing?
"It's getting late, Miss Babcock, traffic will be unruly. Are you ready?" Niles called up the stairs.
Despite her protests, he still wouldn't allow her to just take a cab to her various doctor appointments, and insisted on driving her himself. Unbeknownst to her, Niles had more than a passing interest in her progress and her prognosis.
"Coming, coming," C.C. spat, as she descended the stairs. Niles barely concealed a smile as he looked appreciatively at her. She was elegantly dressed, as always, in a mauve Chanel suit accented by a single strand of pearls around her neck.
They rode to Dr. Shin's office in comparative silence, each lost in their own thoughts. C.C. wondered why she had to keep going back for these appointments, since apart from her headaches and occasional fatigue she felt fine. Niles wondered how C.C. would react when the doctor recommended therapy, as Dr. Shin had quietly discussed with him two weeks ago.
C.C. had dressed herself after the usual battery of tests, and joined Niles in Dr. Shin's office for the regular consultation. The neurologist's office was decorated in soft hues of blue and gray, and the wood paneling on one wall added to the soothing effect. Dr. Shin sat at his desk and rifled through the file in front of him.
"Well, Miss Babcock," he began with a smile, "everything is coming along just fine. Your EEG was negative, which is good..."
"Can I drive myself, then?" C.C. interjected.
Dr. Shin's smile was friendly, yet condescending. "Not quite yet...we need six months of negative EEGs, just to be safe." He smiled at Niles, as if for support.
"Miss Babcock has sufficient transportation at her bidding, whenever she needs it," Niles concurred.
C.C.'s eyebrows knit in annoyance, and she slunk down in her chair a bit. She hated being treated like an invalid.
"I'd like you to start seeing Dr. Kaufman," Dr. Shin continued, "for some cognitive therapy."
"For what?" C.C. asked, a bit irritated. She just wanted to go home and not be bothered.
"Cognitive therapy," Dr. Shin repeated. "Just some basic,verbal association. Some exercises to help your brain remember words that you used to know. Your most recent tests show that you need help in that area. You must remember that a part of your brain was damaged. Although the brain may regenerate itself in appearance, it will not do so in function. You need to train another part of the brain to pick up the slack."
Niles hung on the doctor's every word, while C.C. crossed her arms in front of her and rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," she sighed heavily. "Not like anyone's going to listen to me, anyway."
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Babcock," Dr. Shin smiled kindly, "but it's a matter of covering all our bases." He'd seen too many cases like hers; he knew their reluctance, their denial. She was lucky to have a friend like this man, Mr. Worthington, to tend to her needs. Many of his patients had no such support system.
C.C. made an appointment with Dr. Kaufman as they checked out for the day. She was quiet and contemplative on the ride home.
Niles cast a sidelong glance at her as he drove.
"Is there anything you need before we get home?" he asked.
"No," she said distractedly. It was obvious there was something on her mind.
"Everything OK?" Niles ventured.
It was a few minutes before she responded. She shifted in her seat and appeared agitated. She finally turned towards Niles with an uncertain, yet somewhat cranky look on her face.
"I never thought much about it before, but did you know that you're the closest thing I have to a friend?" she asked.
Niles tried to stifle a smile at the non-sequitor. "I did not know that, but I thank you for that sterling recommendation."
C.C. didn't catch his humor, and stared straight ahead. "Come to think of it, at the end of the day, who do you count as 'friends'?"
The smile faded from Niles' face and he drove in silence for several moments. He then made a sudden turn into the driveway of a local coffee house. After he parked, C.C. followed him inside without question. She waited at a table until he returned with a pair of cappuccinos. "Some caffeine before dinner," he said by way of explanation to her.
C.C. poured a packet of Equal into her cup and then looked up at the butler. "Seriously," her eyes implored. "What do you do when you're not taking care of Maxwell and his family?"
Niles stirred his coffee and looked at it with interest. He couldn't meet her eyes at the moment, for she had hit a nerve. "They keep me busy, and I have other interests...." his voice drifted off.
"Oh," C.C. murmured, sipping her drink. She'd often wondered what the servant boy did after hours, and now he was alluding to a life outside of the Sheffield mansion. She felt a bit exposed, having laid her cards on the table, so to speak, while they'd been in the car.
"All I've had." she said, looking downward, "is my work. Nothing else mattered, and it was always enough. I never thought about anything else...until now." She looked up at Niles.
Niles looked into her deep blue eyes and remained silent for a moment. "You're certainly in a contemplative mood," he finally remarked. C.C. felt the need to continue and ignored his statement.
"To be honest, I always thought there was something between you and Nanny Fine."
Niles snorted with laughter. "What?!"
C.C. looked down at her coffee for a second, then looked up at met Niles' eyes. "I figured that only Maxwell stood between the two of you, and you were too afraid of your job to make a move."
Niles was speechless for a moment, then recovered. "I think you're letting your distaste for Miss Fine get in the way of your rational thinking."
"I know what you think, but I don't think I ever truly hated Fran," C.C. admitted, looking down with sudden interest in a hangnail. "I think it was more...envy. I was jealous."
"Of what, for heaven's sake?" Niles asked, astounded. C.C. Babcock had everything Fran Fine didn't: money, breeding, education. Miss Babcock was at ease in any social situation, and could handle herself with aplomb whether she was dining with heads of state, mingling with royalty, or schmoozing with financiers. Fran was a dear friend, and he loved her, but he couldn't imagine having to spend large amounts of "quality" time with her. She was fun to gossip with, but then what? C.C., on the other hand, knew the difference between Monet and Manet. She was fluent in French, was a voracious reader that kept up to date with current events, and possessed a quick wit that didn't rely on innuendo or double entendres. Niles didn't like to think of himself as pretentious, but he couldn't deny his upbringing; he was an Oxford graduate, and had been rubbing elbows with the British aristocracy as long as he could remember. He was accustomed to and required a certain amount of decorum and propriety. He couldn't picture Miss Babcock in a miniskirt, propped on the edge of a desk, as was Mrs. Sheffield's habit. But, to him, C.C. looked just as alluring, as feminine, in her well-tailored business suits.
"You and she were always so close," C.C. continued. "I know you both always proclaimed to simply be 'best friends', but I couldn't help but suspect there was something more there. She was always touching you, and giggling with you...there was a closeness there that went beyond friendship, or so I thought."
Niles started to interrupt, but C.C. held him off with a small motion of her hand.
"Let's face it, you teamed up with her almost as soon as she arrived, and the two of you were always plotting against me. For a while, I thought she was as big a gold digger as you presumed I was. The butler was obviously drooling over her, but she held out for the big Broadway producer."
"I beg your pardon, I never 'drooled' over her," Niles said, somewhat affronted.
"Well, you could've fooled me. She pranced around in those short, tight skirts that were meant for someone 20 years younger than her, and you did nothing but admire her. I could just imagine what you'd say had I turned up in an outfit like that...." C.C. paused for a moment, the anger suddenly welling up in her stomach. "You always made cracks about me hanging out on street corners, while Nanny Fine was dressing and conducting herself like a common trollop. But no one cared, no one said 'boo' to her..." C.C.'s tone became mocking, "Fran could do no wrong. She was just so wonderful, so perfect...it was always C.C. who was the tramp..."
"I'm...sorry about those cracks I made," Niles said slowly. "Believe me, there was nothing between Fran and me besides friendship. I was never attracted to her in, um, that way. As for why we 'teamed up' against you, well, I guess you were an easy target. Fran has the skin of a rhino, and half the time wouldn't recognize an insult if it was in a self-addressed envelope. When she saw me pick on you, and saw how it annoyed you, I guess she just joined in the so-called fun." He paused for a moment and looked downward, a little embarrassed. "I guess it's sort of like a schoolboy thing...when you like a girl, you throw spitballs at her and pull her hair."
C.C. sat quietly, mulling over what he'd said.
"Besides," Niles continued, working up a bit of lather, "you don't have much room to talk. What about the years of you throwing yourself at Mr. Sheffield?"
C.C. sighed heavily. "I guess I did have a crush on him at the beginning...he was so, well, pretty, and was a successful producer. But he and Sara were in love, and once the kids were born, well...they were a happy family and I lost interest. After Sara died, I felt sorry for Maxwell, and perhaps developed a new interest in him. Then, as the years went by, I'd see my old sorority sisters, all happily married to rich, attractive men, and I was still single and working for a living. Implying that I was having an affair with one of New York's most eligible widowers was a defense mechanism. I guess once I said it enough, I started believing it."
"Well, you gave a pretty convincing performance all these years," Niles snorted.
"It's...you....I don't know, it's so hard to put into words."
"Try."
"Throughout my life, I was used to getting anything that I'd worked for. I loved riding; I saw a girl at the stables walk by with a trophy one day, and I decided I wanted one, too. I started practicing...what is that kind of riding? " she pounded her fist on the table in frustration.
"Dressage?" Niles supplied.
"Right, dressage, I practiced that in every spare moment, and I won ribbons the first year I entered a competition. At Bryn Mawr, I found out it would look impressive on a resume to be president of the class, so I campaigned my butt off and I won the election. I don't know...I guess it was some kind of reaction to my upbringing. At least that's what Dr. Bort seems to think."
"What do you mean?" Niles asked, confused.
C.C. closed her eyes and sighed. She began speaking without opening her eyes. "I've never told anyone this, but I was unwanted."
"Oh, every child feels like that at one time or another – "
"No, I mean I know it for a fact. One time when I was about seven years old, I heard my parents arguing. It was one of the few times the two of them were together in the house at the same time. I heard my father say something about how could he know I was his, and my mother said something about just look at her, anyone could tell. And then she said that she hadn't wanted me any more than he did, and it was only because her doctor was an old poop that she had to have me. I didn't quite understand what she meant at the time, but it gave me a queasy feeling in my stomach."
Niles impulsively reached over and grasped C.C.'s hands in his. He felt the bile rising up in his throat, but he kept quiet, afraid to speak.
"Anyway," C.C. continued, "eventually I was sent off to boarding school, and I remember spending the holidays alone in the dorm. Neither Mother nor Daddy was going to be home for Christmas, so they wired that there was no use for me to go home to an empty house. I ate my meals in the kitchen with the staff, since the dining room was closed. On Christmas Eve, I overhead one of the cooks talking to someone, complaining about having to work during the holidays. I heard her refer to me as one of the 'throwaway' children that they had to take care of." C.C. paused and looked up at Niles, who was still clasping her hands. "I not only felt bad because I was there alone for Christmas, I was also making someone else stay there, away from her own family."
She paused for a moment, then asked "where was I going with all this?"
"It was about Mr. Sheffield, but it's not important," Niles said soothingly, his heart bleeding for C.C. What a couple of lemons she had for parents. He wished he could take her in his arms and hug away all the hurt, but the look on her face warned him to keep his distance.
"Oh, yeah. Anyway, I guess that's why I always felt if I worked hard enough, and achieved enough, my parents would finally love me. And Maxwell would've been the ultimate award – a wealthy and famous husband. But I think, deep down, I knew years ago that he and I were not right for one another. But I was...I am not used to not getting what I set my mind to, so I kept on trying. I guess it was just a matter of pride."
She pulled her hands away from Niles and crossed her arms. "And," she continued, "once I saw how much it bugged you, I must admit that that sort of spurred me on." She picked up her coffee cup and swallowed the last of her cappuccino. "I can't exactly explain it...I guess it just gave me one more goal to achieve: 'How can I upset the butler?'"
Niles got up to leave, and gestured for C.C. to do the same. As they walked back to the Town Car, he mumbled "I must say, you have a rather perverse sense of game playing."
"And you don't?!" C.C. shot back, as she wheeled around.
"Touche, I suppose," he replied, opening the passenger door for her.
They returned home, and C.C. retreated to her room, while Niles began to prepare dinner. The children were all home by that time, and were in rare form. The house was filled with noise and laughter and pounding feet. C.C. felt exhausted from both her doctor appointment and her conversation with Niles, and laid down to nap for a while. When she awakened, just prior to dinner, the kids hadn't settled down much.
C.C., clad in the red robe Noel had given her, slowly approached the stairway, her eyes only half open. The boy ran past her and started descending the stairs before stopping and looking behind him. Suddenly the oldest girl, Maggie, was it?, appeared and shouted down at him.
"Brighton! You give that back NOW!"
The boy extended one arm and waved a book. "Is this what you're looking for?" he taunted.
Maggie looked helplessly at C.C. and cried "He's got my diary!"
Before C.C. could explain that she could care less, Margaret lunged down the stairs at her brother. Brighton attempted to run downward while still looking behind him. He lost his footing and tumbled the last few steps to the ground floor.
At the same time, a paralyzing, inhuman scream pierced the air.
"Nooo!!! No! Noooo!"
Maggie paused on the stairway and looked behind her. She saw C.C.'s eyes open wide in terror as she screamed.
"Nooooo!" C.C.'s insides felt like they were coming through her throat as she watched the boy fall down the stairs. Something was unleashed in the back of her mind...she suddenly remembered stairs...falling, falling....hiding, don't move, play dead.....
Brighton scrambled to his feet and started up the stairs, his eyes wide with fright. "I'm OK, Miss Babcock, I didn't hurt anything!"
C.C. had crumpled and was huddled in a fetal position at the top of the stairs, wailing and screaming. The two kids were confused and terrified, and before they could move any further Niles bounded up the staircase and gathered C.C. into his arms.
"It's OK," he murmured to her, though she didn't seem to hear him.
Without letting go of C.C., Niles raised his eyes and spoke to Maggie. "Go get Dr. Bort's phone number off the refrigerator. It's on one of the magnets. Please ask her to meet us at Lenox Hill." Margaret ran off without further question.
Brighton stood motionless, staring upwards at the whimpering C.C.
"Master Brighton," Niles said evenly, trying not to startle or disturb C.C., "please call 911 and request an ambulance."
Brighton raced off, and Niles pulled C.C. close and spoke into her hair. She was shaking uncontrollably. "It's all right," he soothed, "just hang on."