Chapter 42 Found
1893
The library was dark now. A passerby on Fifth Avenue might assume that it had been abandoned, but if one stopped, and listened very carefully, the sound of flesh and need could be heard.
It had happened slowly, as neither one of them garnered the experience to lead the other, but as the night wore on, they turned into old lovers, quickly making up for lost time.
As they lay on the floor between tables, clothes scattered about them, Stephen snaked his arms around her, pulling Lina securely against his chest and she held on to his shoulders, as if he might disappear at any moment.
She felt his grief before he spoke of it. But when he began to talk of his sisters, she closed her eyes and held him closer, hot tears falling as she saw everything from his young eyes. Her young eyes.
"Nothin' was the same after that, Lina. We actually tried to stay in the homestead for a year after they died."
"It was your home." She saw the white walls. She saw her hand. She felt his hand.
"Not without Abby and Katie. There was this empty room next to mine. Pa wouldn't go near it. I never told him, but at night, I used to go in there at night. Lie on the floor next to their bed." At night, despite her weak legs, she would crawl to her bed, and reach, reach, reach out…
He pressed her hand over his heart as she whispered, "You wanted to be close to them."
"Yeah. And my mother…" He closed his eyes and Lina saw everything.
She kissed the pulse on his neck. "It's ok. You can trust me."
He buried his lips in her hair. "Her legs broke when she… when she fell from the window. She recovered, but we couldn't get her to speak. It was like she was somewhere else, not with Pa and me."
Those monsters didn't say anything when she left, they wouldn't tell anything, and then one day, she was gone too. Lina saw it all and whispered, "Like she went with them."
Stephen looked in her eyes, lying side by side. "One night when I was in the girls' room, she came in. She didn't know I was there. She went over to the closet and opened it. All of their clothes, the dresses and skirts and blouses that Abby had made when they were little girls were all still in there. She began pulling the dresses out, one by one, but she didn't make a sound, didn't say a word, almost like she wasn't breathin'. I got scared. So I got out from under the bed and I went to her. She was holdin' that pink dress of Abby's to her face, almost suffocating in it. I touched her shoulder and…"
Lina wrapped him up, her scars touching his heart. "It's ok…"
"I never heard anybody scream like that. The way she looked at me and the way she cried. It… it was like she was lost in the dark, and she…she was so scared… And I tried to comfort her, but she couldn't stop cryin'. Even Pa couldn't make her stop."
"And she was gone after that, wasn't she?" Lina said.
Stephen nodded, his jaw tightening. "The doctors don't understand it. They try to pass it off as some form of amnesia or dementia, but they don't really know. The truth is she had a breakdown, and she doesn't remember the people she loves."
Lina felt his body shivering. "Stephen…"
"And they don't think we should tell her about the girls. They don't think we should try to restore her memory at all. They believe it will only cause further damage, cause another breakdown, and therefore, cause her to slip further into her own world."
Lina paused and assessed his determined, far off glare. "And what do you think?"
Stephen looked at her and pulled her closer. "I think those doctors don't know a damn thing they're talkin' about."
1890—Boston
Michaela leaned against the front door at Beacon Hill, watching the young man walk away into the overcast morning. She smiled sadly as he disappeared into the fog, already missing him.
Her Stranger was standing behind her, watching the boy too. Or maybe he was watching her, she wasn't sure.
But she knew. Now that the boy was gone, they were left to themselves, to each other and this enormous house they shared in silence.
But it wasn't silent. Whenever she looked up, his eyes were searching hers, looking for something, something, she never quite recognized. He made her tremble.
But he never touched her.
She turned around and found his eyes. "I'm going to miss him, Sully."
"Yeah?" Sully's eyes sparked suddenly, and she saw that elusive hopefulness fill them as he stepped forward.
"He's…" Michaela faltered as she stared into his sea blue eyes. Quickly, she escaped and turned back to the door and shut it.
"What?" He asked, stepping closer to her, a slight tremor in his voice.
Michaela shook her head slightly, an irrepressible smile coming to her face. "I don't know. There's something special about him."
Sully nodded enthusiastically, unable to repress his feelings as he saw the light in her smile. "Yes. He's his mother."
But when she looked at him, there was only confusion in her eyes.
When she saw the hope die in his eyes, Michaela stepped forward guiltily, gently placing her hand on the side of his cheek. "I'm sorry she's not here."
Sully closed his eyes, leaning into her soft touch that he hadn't felt in so long. They walked around this house like strangers, comfortable strangers, even sometimes friends, but there was this ledge that both of them stirred far from, and now they were so close to it, dangling over the edge. The doctors warnings rang through Sully's mind, but his heart didn't want to listen. This was killing him.
"I think he looks like you," Michaela whispered, her hand suddenly froze on his warm face. She felt the muscles of his jaw tense underneath her palm, and her heart suddenly ached for him as she watched him hold back…something. "He's…he's…a beautiful boy."
Sully crossed his arms over his chest, trying to regain his composure. Michaela reluctantly withdrew her hand and watched him withdraw himself from her. He exhaled and walked towards the drawing room. He stopped abruptly and turned around. "Ya think he'll be alright in a place like Harvard?"
Michaela's lips curled to the side, and she shook her head. "He's only across the Charles River! He could swim home if he wanted."
He sauntered back, turning the conversation towards things she knew. "It won't be too hard for him?"
She smiled reassuringly, amused by his paternal anxiety. "He's one of the brightest young men I've ever known, Sully. And he really cares about people." But then she hesitated, not knowing how he would react to what she wanted to say. Yet she couldn't hide how she felt. She looked down and whispered excitedly, "He…he told me he wants to help me, Sully."
Sully stepped back, shocked. He had no idea Stephen felt this way. "He did?"
Michaela stood taller, her mind clear and made up. "I think… I think he's right, Sully."
Sully turned around, nothing but warnings and her terrifying, lost screams spinning in his head. "I don't know what to say."
She nodded, observing him closely, watching his fatigued body language. "I know."
He stopped and looked down, laughing ironically. "You know?"
She frowned, not understanding him. "Yes, I do."
Sully gripped the banister of the staircase, nearly shaking it, and stared at her. "You have no idea, Michaela. I know Boo means well, but… he he… I'm sorry… He just doesn't… He doesn't even have a degree yet. We've talked to some of the best doctors in the country about this. I…"
"Not everything you learn about being a doctor comes from a book, Sully," she shot back icily. Their eyes locked, and Sully gripped the cold wood harder, waiting for some kind of fierce emotion that defined his Michaela to emerge from under this shell in front of him, but when nothing came, nothing happen, he ripped the top part of the railing from its holding, throwing it across the room at the old grandfather clock, shattering its glass casing.
"What are you doing, Sully! That was my father's!" Michaela suddenly screamed, hot tears coming to her eyes as she ran across the room, heedlessly picking up shards of glass with her bare hands.
His control waned as he watched her cry, and words tumbled out of his mouth without censor, "See? That's what I don't understand. Ya remember your father, ya remember livin' in this house! Ya can even remember bein' a doctor, but ya can't remember anythin' else? I'd think that'd be the first thing ya'd want to forget after everythin' that's happened!"
Michaela looked up, shaking her head at him as she gripped two pieces of glass in her hands. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN!"
"Nothing. I don't mean anythin'," Sully sank down beside her, the fight falling out of him as he reached for her hands and pulled the sharp glass out of each of her palms. They hadn't cut her yet, and he wouldn't let anything hurt her again. He let go of her hands and lowered his head. "I'm… I'm sorry. I'm just… scared for ya."
Michaela stood up slowly, rising above him, something unknown boiling inside of her as she glared in his eyes. "How do you think I feel? Don't… Don't… Don't tell me what I have a right to know. If Stephen wants to help, then I am going to let him help me. If I remember something, then I'll handle it the best way I know how. I'm not going to pretend to understand this, Sully. You can't either. But if Boo can find something…"
Sully stood up, succumbing to her as he saw…something. And he said clearly, "Michaela."
Her tired, angry eyes closed and she whispered, "What?"
"Alright. Let him help ya. I'm sorry." She opened her eyes and stared at him, confused again by his change of heart. Sully shook his head, turning away from her set, impassioned eyes, unable to stand it anymore. "I'm sorry."
Before she could say another word, he walked out the front door. She turned around and looked at the broken clock. She reached inside the case and ran her hand over the three gold chimes. Their song had always been like a lullaby to her, but now the song was over. She looked towards the closed door. Sully was behind it somewhere, and she couldn't help but wonder, what did he know that was sweeter than a lullaby?
1900—Eastbound Train to Boston
Brian tried to focus on his writing pad, but he was distracted. As usual. The wheels on the track. The roaring engine. And he couldn't ignore the giggling girls in the compartment behind him. He leaned back, dropping his pad. He and Abby would have had at least two or three children by now. Lots of little girls.
But he couldn't think about that. He had a meeting with his editor in Boston, and Sully had been generous enough to welcome him into their home while he was working. He was anxious to see Sully as always. Since Loren and Miss Olive's passing, he had no more ties to Abagail in Colorado Springs. Seeing Michaela would be hard though. He had hoped for Stephen's sake that she would remember something eventually, but as far as he knew, she hadn't.
Suddenly, a little tornado seemed to blaze through his compartment. She giggled before shutting the door and running uninvitingly under his seat.
"Shh!" She whispered secretively. Her little toe head popped out, and she grinned at him with sparkling dark eyes, "Don't tell sissy I'm in here!"
Suddenly, another little imp came running down the corridor, and she slammed her palms up against Brian's window, peering in like a sleuth. Brian couldn't help but chuckle.
She then knocked politely on the door. Brian pushed it open. "Yes?"
"You haven't seen Lala, have ya, Mister?"
"No he hasn't, Gigi!" The other one called out from under the seat. "So go away!"
"You are so bad at this game, Lala!" Gigi scolded as she dropped to her knees, digging her sister out from under the seat.
Brian laughed as the two of them made faces at each other and then looked pointedly at him. "Those are very interesting names the two of you have, ladies."
"They are our princess names. But we have other names too, don't we, Gigi?" Lala sat beside Brian excitedly, always ready to talk.
"Shh…" Gigi's eyes went wide. "Remember, father said not to talk about that when we're not at home!"
Brian frowned, not understanding the little girls, but suddenly, down the corridor, a rich, clear voice he knew called out, "Kayla! Gail! Where are you, girls?"
1890
The door flew open, and he could already hear her choking for air as she stumbled into his bedroom. "Sully!" she cried. "Sully, where are you?"
Sully pushed back his sheets and jumped out of the bed, finding her white figure in the dark. "I'm right her, Michaela!"
And before he could stop her, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling closer to his body than she had been in years. But once she was there, Sully forgot everything he knew and clung to her trembling body, letting his hands run down her hair to her back and around her waist.
"What happened?" he whispered in her ear, as she curled into his body.
"I-I had a dream. A horrible dream—I—" As she exhaled her body gave into the fatigue, and she sank into his arms. Sully immediately picked her up and carried her back to his bed. As he laid her down, he leaned over her, caught in her hold even as he tried to pull away.
He smoothed her hair away, an endearment falling from his lips as though she were a stranger, "Tell me what happened, sweetheart."
"Are you sure?" She hesitated, now that she had calmed somewhat, she couldn't help but be aware of how close they were. He had never allowed it. And after what happened that afternoon, she wasn't sure she should be here. But now that she was here, she felt as though she had been here a thousand times.
Sully only nodded. His senses were too keen right now. Listening to her voice, her breath, her heartbeat. He could hear everything and nothing else.
Her hand slipped through his, and he couldn't let go as she began to tell him her dream, "I was running towards some kind of boat… a beautiful sail boat…It—it was like chasing happiness…"
Sully smiled as he caressed her forehead. "That's a nice thought. Chasing happiness. If ya can reach it."
She exhaled and when she tried to speak, her voice broke, "And I was so close to it, but then, all of a sudden, it just sailed away without me, and I… I never… I never felt such… And I knew… that no matter how fast I ran, the boat would always be faster, and I would never be able to catch it."
She stared into his eyes as if he could tell her the answer, but Sully didn't have it. They were always here, and an overwhelming sense of failure struck him as she sought his help.
"I wish I knew what it meant," Sully whispered. "I wish I could help ya more."
"It…It was an unbearable sadness, Sully…" Michaela released his hand, and slowly, slowly placed the hand on the side of his cheek. "Sometimes I look at you, and I think you might know what that is."
"Ya can see that?" He whispered hoarsely. Like he had been shot, Sully's head dropped, as all the memories came flooding back in surges as one daughter lay lifeless with child and only bloody clothes were found of the other. Feelings and emotions he had been repressing for her, for them, surfaced suddenly, and he cried for the first time in seven years. As he collapsed Michaela pulled him against her, and his body fell on hers; and she held his weight, his burden, his heart, all, with such care as though she were holding delicate glass.
His tears shattered her body, shaking the core of her being as she felt what he felt, even though she couldn't name it. They pulled each other closer, and Michaela knew in that moment that it didn't matter what had come before or what would come after. She was supposed to be here with him now.
She curled her hand around his hair, letting her fingers get lost in his locks as she whispered into his ear, letting him know it was alright to break, letting him know that he was safe with her, letting him feel cared for and… and…
"I don't want to let ya go," he whispered, his voice rough as he cradled her head. Slowly, she pushed back on his chest, returning his weight, returning his bed as she pushed him to his back.
Then she gave him all of her weight. Her face hovered over his as she wiped away his tears. "Then don't," she said, surrendering everything to him, "Take me, take me, please take me."
He couldn't say no. He nodded yes and took her completely in his arms, and there he found her lips again, and she kissed him as though it were the first time and he as though it was the last, but it was right, because it had always been right.
Not waiting any length of time, Sully dragged the coat of her nightgown up, pulling it over her head quickly. Her body was shaking against his as he began to paint her flesh with his mouth, inhaling her like a necessary drug, an obsession, a lifeline. He was taking her in every way possible, and she was overwhelmed by him, by his need, his passion, his… Questions began to fill her mind, but soon she couldn't concentrate anymore, and she found herself taking as much from him as he was from her.
She fell onto him, pierced by him, and he clung to her breasts as they moved together desperately seeking something beautiful, something so far away, but so close and tangible at the same time…
He pushed her hair back and held her head as they reached out to touch it, and they words tumbled dangerously from his mouth as he jumped, "I love you, Michaela!"
"I…I…" She stumbled and collapsed upon him, unable to answer him or understand her feelings, his feelings as her body racked with indescribable sensations above him. And they fell together to the bed, found… but still so desperately lost.
1893
Daylight stirred him, and Stephen opened his eyes, gazing at Lina's peaceful countenance. Last night he had found what he had been missing all his life—that simple, beautiful connection to a human being, body and soul that could hardly be expressed in words. His heart was finally beating again, and it was because of this bewitching stranger who had let him fall apart and be himself. She didn't ask for anything in return. But he wanted to hold her and protect her. He wanted to love her. And for the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid of it.
But the sound of life outside was slowly making its way towards them, and Stephen quickly sat up, gathering his clothes around him.
"You're leaving," Lina whispered. Stephen quickly turned around, looking into her worried eyes. He reached out and caressed her cheek, shaking his head slowly.
"Not you." He smiled, reassuring her. "But we should probably get up. Get dressed before someone catches us."
Lina's eyes widened, as if she were suddenly remembering where they were. "The library could be opening any minute! What time is it?"
Stephen chuckled as she began throwing her clothing all about, searching for his pocket watch. She was like a blazing tornado, and he was awestruck.
Suddenly as her camisole flew into the air, a sharp gleam caught his eye and he looked at the shiny gold pocket watch on the floor.
He bent down and picked it up.
"Lina!" Her head popped up. He flipped it open as he looked in her eyes. "Is this what you were lookin' for?"
"Oh," she shook her head sadly, "That old thing doesn't work. I'm lookin' for yours, Boo."
"Too bad. It's a beautiful piece," Stephen commented as she gave up and began to dress. The gold sparkled against the light again, shining like Midas' hair, and he didn't close it. Instead, he looked down to the frozen time.
And he saw her picture. And his heart stopped again.
"Lina," he whispered hoarsely.
"Hmm?" She asked nonchalantly as she tied her chemise.
"Why do you have a picture of my mother?"
1873—Boston Hospital
Abagail and Katie froze as David's eyes swam with delirium, as his mouth began to formulate words and phrases they didn't understand.
Abby quickly pushed Katie towards the door, and without words, she flew out of the room, rushing down the hall to find a doctor, regardless of the hospital rules.
Abby leaned close to David, and she saw that familiar light fill his eyes as he reached for her hand. She swallowed nervously, remembering how trusting she was as a child and how angry she had been just a few minutes ago. She knew she had to pretend one more time.
She put her hand in his, and David smiled like he was coming home. "I'm here, father," she whispered.
"You've grown so beautiful, like I knew you would." Abby closed her eyes, trying to hide her disgust.
"Michaela's in trouble, father… She's been put in jail for something she didn't do. Can ya—you tell me what happened the night… M-mama and your father were shot? Can you do that for me, father?" David's eyes clouded over and his chest swelled. Abby gripped his hand tighter, encouraging him.
His answer came like a whisper from a dream, "I gave her a thousand lilacs… Caroline… and they weren't even mine… And she told me to write everything down, so I d-did. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. We—we shouldn't have done it. I didn't know they would separate you. I didn't know. One day I came to see you, and you were gone, and she didn't know where you were, and I didn't—I didn't see you again until—where Michaela tried so hard… She tried so hard. I was gonna tell her about my girls, and she would have love you. She would have been such a good mother. She—" As David rambled on, Abby shook her head, not understanding him at all.
"Father, no… Listen to me, I don't care about that, I-I need to know about the night you were shot—" Suddenly the door opened and Katie ran back in the room with an irate doctor following her.
She quickly ran behind Abby as the doctor lured over them. "You girls must leave now! It's against hospital policy to—"
Abby stepped back, determination running through her. "We ain't leavin' until we hear everythin' he has to say!"
Two orderlies quickly filed in and stalked over to Katie and Abagail.
But David tightened his grip on Abagail's hand and glared into the doctor's eyes. "If you lay one hand on my girls I will slit your throat!"
The doctor held his hand up to the orderlies as David's eyes suddenly flashed to Katie's. "You… you found her, Caroline?"
Katie stared into David's eyes, watching the red swelling of the disease protrude around his face and neck. Her hands slid around Abby's middle, nearly hiding from him. A single tear fell from David's eye as she retreated. "Don't be shy, sweetheart. Come closer. I… I tried going back for you. I swear I did! I would have taken you with us. I was going to tell her, but when I didn't find you… everything seemed… it just slipped. I lost everything. My whole family was gone then. So I decided to start over."
David reached for Katie, his dying face glowing as though he was seeing happiness for the first time, "But I never forgot you, Lina. I never did."