Chapter Six, Night Thoughts

It was later than it should have been and Catherine could not sleep. Part of the problem was that they were yet again resting within an unfamiliar landscape, and she was staring up at an unrecognizable ceiling, old and made of greying drywall. The candlelight gave vague definition to the darkened room, where Catherine could see enough by when she sat up to spot Kaitlyn sleeping in her makeshift bed, two plushy chairs pushed together with a thick blanket covering her, keeping her warm in the cold, cold night. It was the best blanket the inn room had been issued with and she definitely didn't want her daughter to catch cold, besides, she had Clive to keep her warm instead.

He was already asleep next to her, immersed in whatever peace he could find after his nighttime desires had been fulfilled. Catherine's worry kept her up though, as it usually did, and she found herself thinking about both the past and the future, Clive's gentle breathing a background to her thoughts. The Heaven they were about to move into was a prominent part in them, and despite what she had told Kaitlyn earlier, she did have her doubts on whether Clive's choice of action had been the best one. She hated the idea of bringing Kaitlyn into a place filled with monsters, caged that they may be, but what else could they do? There was just no other option left.

Clive was such a stubborn man, he had been that way all his life, but Catherine in her early love for him had mistaken it as simple determination. Her naivete amongst such matters like character judgement had gotten the best of her. She wasn't admitting that she didn't love her husband, on the contrary, she loved him as dearly as she ever did, but sometimes wondered if she could have had a better life had she not been swayed by her father's recommendations and Clive's dashing words, looks and personality. She, being the daughter of a successful archaeological professor somehow always knew that she would marry one of her father's colleagues someday, but when Clive had been introduced to her, well, it had become much easier for her to simply go along with tradition.

But Berlitz's motivation with pushing herself and Clive together might not have been a totally virtuous one. It was true that Clive was the suitor that her estranged mother had hated the most, probably because of Clive's similar resentment towards the woman, yet it had given Catherine a morbid kind of satisfaction to relent to Clive's advances and please her father at the same time, further infuriating her mother. She had always been a Daddy's Girl, and her mother had always had a personal vendetta against the both of them. There was nothing they could do about it, it was just the way things had been, for as far back as Catherine could remember.

Berlitz had escaped his problems by drowning himself in alcohol and moving away from her, forcing a separation. Catherine had hated her mother the most of all for that, for driving her father into a problem that slightly affected him still, even though he had been dry for almost three years now. Clive had been her ticket out of that hell, so she had taken it without hesitation. She had had enough of the bullying, the criticism and the false guilt and now it was no more. With Clive, she was free.

Clive had told her once, in a bed not dissimilar to this one that her mother had been nothing but an angry ghost, and that as long as she had nobody to haunt and bother, her cries would at last be silent for good. It was worth it to let the dead rest, after all, even if her mother was still alive. Catherine had concurred with a smile that still smacked of pure, unadulterated innocence, unaware of what was to come.

On a day just like any other day, Clive proposed marriage. It had been a mundane task she had been doing at the time, peeling potatoes, she thought, when Clive had just stood up from the table and said it, as smoothly and as easily as if he were asking for the time of day. Indeed, Catherine had to think for a few short moments on what he had said. "This isn't really the right time or place to ask me that, Clive." She demurred with a playful smile.

"On the contrary," Clive objected, "This is indeed the perfect time." He gave her one of his all-knowing stares and continued. "Did you expect it to be a special occasion, a magical time?"

"Well, I-" Catherine began.

Clive silenced her with a mere dismissive gesture. "Anybody would expect The Question on a special evening. It is common. I wanted this moment to be unique from all the other proposals of the world, so here it is, brought forth from my satirical wit. Will you have me?"

Catherine laughed and said that she would, and in the following spring they were wed with moderate splendor in a ceremony that all their friends and family attended, except for one. This was the way that her mother had chosen to show her resentment for Berlitz and Clive, and though it did hurt her a little and slightly dampen her big day, she had her father and brand new husband to keep her spirits high.

That had been nine years ago, and it seemed like another life. Back then, there had been so very much to learn.

When Kaitlyn had come, it had forced a bitter reconciliation between herself and her mother. She had wanted both her parents to see her beautiful new baby girl, and Clive and Berlitz both agreed; they would never hear the end of it if they kept the child from her grandmother. When Catherine and Kaitlyn went there, Clive and Berlitz would spend their time together, probably getting as drunk as they could, for she could always smell the alcohol on his clothes whenever they returned home.

He had always been a drinker, in the beginning Catherine had accepted it as just a part of who Clive was, but with a baby in the family now… well, she just didn't like it anymore. But what could she do? She didn't want to badger him about it, that had been a trademark of Kaitlyn's grandmother. All alcohol aside, however, Clive had turned out to be almost the perfect father for Kaitlyn, for oh how she adored him so!

Sometimes Kaitlyn would cry all night and only become placated when back in her father's arms. Clive could make her eat when Catherine could not, and he tried to include Kaitlyn into almost everything he did, even with a task as boring as writing out historical theorems. Clive would explain everything to the gurgling and giggling six-month-old like he was lecturing a dedicated student, so when Catherine stood in the doorframe and watched all this happen, she felt a great love for the both of them and also a sad feeling of exclusion. Kaitlyn was her daughter, but she was bonding to Clive far faster than she. She was to be a Daddy's Girl, just like Catherine had before her. She was happy, but at the same time felt immensely sad. Catherine had closed the door noiselessly in the end.

Knowing that she was to be excluded from her little daughter's heart did nothing to push Kaitlyn out of her own. She loved her more than anything she thought she could ever love before, and admitted to herself that at times she only had stayed with Clive for Kaitlyn's benefit, not because of her own personal feelings for him. Clive's drinking had steadily gotten worse over the years, like a wasting disease in his body, but whenever she would toy with the idea of a separation near Kaitlyn, she could always feel Kaitlyn's scared and almost accusatory eyes burning into her back and her mind, confused and wondering why. Catherine knew that Clive's drinking wouldn't remain harmless forever, and that she should take the initiative and leave her husband while she still could, but Kaitlyn's sheer force of silent will had kept the family bound tightly together.

There were times when Catherine regarded her daughter with wonderment and sometimes fear, it could easily be seen that Kaitlyn was a special girl, she certainly was one that required more careful care, due to her epilepsy, yet instances would occur when Catherine would wonder if there was more to her daughter than what could immediately be seen. In some everyday activities, she would sometimes totally halt what she was doing and look up at her mother with tearful eyes, demanding answers to questions that a child should not have to say. "Do you love daddy?" "Does daddy love me?" "Will we go away?"

When Clive had broken Kaitlyn's hand the questions suddenly went away. Kaitlyn was probably too occupied with her own pains to worry about the ones of her parents, if only for a little while. That was when Catherine had made the decision; as soon as Kaitlyn's hand was well, she and her would leave Clive for good. Clive could drink himself to Hell if he wanted, but there was no way that he was taking Kaitlyn with her. Kaitlyn's little mangled hand was the straw that broke the camel's back, and she could take it no longer.

So her marriage had been a failure. Catherine could deal with the fact that she had not been a good enough wife to keep her husband happy enough so that he could stay sober, and she could almost deal with the fact that her failure to do this was damaging her daughter, day by day. But she couldn't, and this was what scared her the most, she couldn't deal with the fact that her horrible, overbearing bitch of a mother had been absolutely right. Clive had ruined her chances for a happier life.

Tears stung her eyes as she packed to leave, rifling though the drawers back in the old Humphrey's Peak home. Clive was out yet again that night, doing God knows what with God knows whom. But this time, when he came home, he would have no family left to welcome him. It awoke a cruel satisfaction deep within her to note this, a feeling that felt altogether too much like her mother. Momentarily, Catherine felt ashamed.

"Yes Kaitlyn," Catherine had said quietly in the dark room, "We will go away."

Kaitlyn had shifted uncomfortably in her deep sleep.

Everything had been packed, the suitcase bursting with all the belongings that they wanted or needed. Catherine picked up her sleeping five year old daughter and looked out the window. It was about three AM. Time to go, they would take the first train of the morning to a better place. She could hear her mother laughing in her head. Just like your father, daddy's little girl. Came the crowing, Do as I did and leave him, you'll be better for it in the long run. It's all your fault, you know. You should have listened to me. But alas, it's too late for it now. One day your girl will realise the same thing.

Catherine put the suitcase down and sat down upon the living room couch. She felt the prickling of tears beginning anew. "Oh Jesus…" She whispered hoarsely, clutching her daughter more tightly to her bosom, "…Where did it all go wrong?"

"Mommy…" Kaitlyn slurred sleepily, only fractionally awake in her mother's lap. "Jet says that Daddy shot a deer. He's scared, there was an accident…"

"Shh, honey." Catherine cooed on reflex, stroking her daughter's hair. "It's okay, it is only a bad dream."

"…Daddy, Grandpa and Jet are scared… They dunno what to do…" The girl protested weakly, before slipping off into sleep again. This would be the first mention of Jet that Catherine was to ever hear, but she did not know it, just yet. The two girls feel asleep on the couch there, Catherine unable to leave and escape to a better life.

Clive had come back after the two of them had fallen asleep. The next day, he had made Kaitlyn a swing for her to play on. He never saw Catherine's suitcase, and if he did, he chose not to mention it. An uneasy time of stability came over the Winslett family after that night. Clive, pale and tight-lipped, refused to touch a drop of alcohol from then onwards. Catherine foggily connected this to the words of her sleepy daughter, but was always afraid to ask Clive about his 'accident', in case the inquiry would prompt him to begin drinking anew. The thoughts of separation began to drift farther and farther from the front of Catherine's mind, she could now see how hard Clive was working to battle this inner demon of his, and admittedly, it was making her fall in love with him, all over again. Things seemed to be going okay again, finally. The voices of her mother and conscience were silent.

That is, until Melody.

Lying back down again, Catherine rolled over and into Clive's arms, seeking his warmth. Her story was far from over yet, she had a feeling, somehow, that it had only just begun. The past aside, she loved her husband and her daughter, and tomorrow, they would go to the Heaven arranged for them and see if the isolation would save their marriage. The only thing that could reside in a Heaven was either salvation or rejection. If this could be the ultimate challenge to their marital vows, it would decide for her whether to leave or stay.

Clive's deep breathing, nearly bordering on a snore was soothing and familiar to her ears. It helped her close her eyes again and drift off into a small sleep. For now, just for now, at least, she would have to trust in her husband's decision and see what the Heaven held there for herself.