1Before There Was Darkness
Part Twenty
She flinched as though he'd taken his hand and struck her. The depth of her hurt was immediately evident, in the sudden glaze of her eyes, the tremble of her chin, her hand dropping from his shoulder to rest in defeat at her side. She lowered her head and sighed, wrapping her arms tightly across her body, as if to shield herself from the potential of any further pain.
"Jimmy," she said softly, the unmistakable threat of tears in her voice, "I love you, you know I do. But are you asking me to choose, one for the other?"
"Yeah," he responded with a nonchalant shrug of the chin, "in a way, I guess I am."
"I can't do that. I can't choose you over my family or vice versa. And honestly, I don't understand why we can't have both."
"Because I can't keep doing this!" Anger boiled to the surface, sharpening his words. "I guess I'm just not…what was it Mrs. Cromwell labeled it, "blue blood" enough for any of it or any of them. Christie, I stood in that bar today and listened to two women carry on a conversation about some gardener who murdered their rose bushes, as if it that was some huge tragedy they would never recover from. You can't murder a rose bush for Christ sake! If the damn thing dies, it can be replaced, a thousand times over with the money these people have… God, even announcing our engagement, your father couldn't just say congratulations. He had to stand up there in front of his friends and make it sound like you were settling for something less than you deserved."
"Oh, Jimmy, I don't think that's what he meant."
"Maybe not," he said, indignantly, "but that's basically what he said and I'm sure that's what everyone in that room thinks too. You look at me and tell me it's not true."
"I can't…just like I can't choose between you and them. Having one without the other is like giving up a piece of myself. And if you love me, really love me, then you have to take all of me, who I was before and who I am now. And that includes family, Jimmy. It's a package deal."
Strolling to the edge of the deck, he planted his elbows on the wide railing and rested his chin wearily in his hands. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I tried, Christie, I tried to tell you that our worlds are just too different, we're too far apart. But you didn't want to hear me."
Her hand was on his shoulder again, the soothing tone back in her voice. "I know, Jimmy, but…"
He turned to face her. "Well, sometimes, Christie, love just isn't enough." Kissing her softly on the cheek, he strolled across the deck and disappeared through the doors, leaving her standing in the chill of the late afternoon, his words, like his footsteps, an echo in the wind.
"I'll have a Heineken, please." Jim took a seat at the vacant bar and reached up to loosen the knot in his tie and undo the top button of his shirt, freeing himself from the choke hold around his throat. Absently twisting the cold bottle between his hands, the contemplation of what had just transpired playing out in his head, he didn't hear her approach.
"Hey, is this seat taken?"
She'd startled him. "What? Sorry, no…please sit," he said, pulling the barstool out for her. "Would you like a drink?"
"I'll have the same thing you're having," she responded, taking a seat and crossing her long legs.
He raised the bottle to the bartender. "Another here, please? Do you want a glass?"
"No, thanks, I'll drink it like the big boys do."
A fleeting smile crossed his face, the brooding silence settling back again, seemingly without pause.
Laying a hand over his, she gently squeezed his fingers. "Jim, can I say something, here?"
Shrugging his shoulders, a suggestion of indifference in his tone, he said, "I think I've heard it all, but if you think you've got some new angle to add, let's hear it."
"Look at me, please." Her hand found his chin and she turned his head to face her. "I'm not even going to begin to profess knowing anything about you or what your story might be. But, it's obvious to me that you have absolutely no idea what to think of any of this. Truth of the matter is, though, I'm not sure any of us really do. I know I don't and I've been exposed to it my entire life." A hint of sadness crept into her smile. "Maybe that's why I've spent so much time trying to find myself in all of this, not just as Stewart Sullivan's daughter, but to figure out where it is that I fit in. Believe me," she said knowingly, "we all do, Jim. If you think growing up like we did made it any easier, I've got news for you. It doesn't seem to matter where we start, here or there, it's never an easy road to acceptance. God knows I've lost my way on it so many times."
Lowering his gaze from her, attempting to close the door she had so deftly opened, he said, "Look, Erica, it's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do here. I do really…."
"That's good, and if that's the case, then hear me out, please?"
"Alright, alright…you've got the floor," he said reluctantly.
"I love my sister, Jim, and what that means is that it doesn't really matter how well I know you, or how much I know about you, I already care about you because she does. I just don't want to see either one of you make a rash decision that you might regret somewhere down the road."
"So you've talked to her?" She nodded. "Then you should know that it may already be too late for that," he said, the image of Christie's wounded expression filling his head.
They raised their bottles in unison, both taking a long swig. She put hers down first and swung around so she was facing him.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot…" he responded, absently picking at a loose corner of the label.
"What do you see when you look at my mother and father?"
Casting a questioning glance in her direction, he frowned and shook his head. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Come on. You've spent some time with them. Is there something, anything about them that stands out to you?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I just want an honest answer, Jim. And don't give me that look; I'm not going to jump down your throat. I've known them a lot longer than you so believe me, there is nothing you can possibly say that I haven't already noticed."
"Alright, you asked," he said, cautious hesitation in his voice. "Except for this, today I mean, I see two people living very separate lives…"
She nodded. "Very astute read, Jim. Is that the detective in you or does that ability just come naturally to you?"
He had to laugh. "No, not really…just an observation."
"Truth is, Stu and Lily probably should have divorced years ago. But they didn't and for all the wrong reasons. The price of embarrassment was too high for either of them, to say nothing of the fact that it would have sullied that great Sullivan name." She shrugged her shoulders. "So, except for the social occasions, things like this, they are very rarely together. Dad has his library and when he's not there, he's here or out on the boat. And Mom has her charitable causes, her bridge group and her studio. They might eat at the same table, but that's pretty much it."
He glanced over at her, a rueful smile etched on his face. "And I assumeyou must have a point to all of this?"
"My point is that no matter how much you think you know about someone, how much you think you have in common, it doesn't always work out the way you think it's going to. I mean, look at them, Jim. They were born in the same social circles and they haven't been able to figure out a way to make it last. They tolerate each other, but I think any love they may have had died a long time ago. And worse than that, they've made absolutely no effort to keep it going. Christie was raised with that, we both were, spending time with one or the other, but never the two of them together. And because of that, she has a very strong vision of what her marriage is going to be….that's not it."
He nodded. "That's not what I want, either. I didn't grow up with a glowing example of how it should be; only what I never wanted it to be."
"So, what's holding you back, Jim?"
"I guess I am...I don't know," he said, frustration marking his words. "It just seems that whenever we reach what I think is a comfort zone, and I'm finally starting to believe that we can make it, really make it work, something happens and I'm just not sure anymore. God, Erica, I'm so tired of fighting an uphill battle."
She laid an affectionate hand on his shoulder. "So don't fight, Jim. Talk. Let Christie know how you're feeling. She'll listen. I know she will, because she loves you. I didn't know it was possible to feel for someone the way she does for you. And whether you believe it now or not, sometimes love is enough….if you let it be."
Raising her bottle, she drained it and set it back down on the bar. "Hey, bartender. Put both of those on my Daddy's tab, please." Grinning, she said, "If my Dad is going to drive you to drink, he's also going to pay for it." She started toward the steps to the main foyer, the familiar sound of her high heels clicking across the polished marble floor. Reaching the top step, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Jim, just in case you're interested, last time I saw Christie, she was out on the deck. I think you can still find her there."
"Hey, Erica…." he called after her.
She turned.
"Thanks..."
He found her where Erica said she would be, a forlorn, solitary figure at the corner of the deck, her coat draped across her shoulders warding off the damp chill that had settled over the coast. He didn't need to see her face to know how deeply he had hurt her. It was there, in her posture, the bow of her head, the sway of her back and shoulders. He knew, without seeing, what would be reflected in her eyes.
"Hey," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her, burying his cheek against her hair.
She pulled away and turned to him, the pain he had anticipated masking her beautiful face. "Do you want this back?" she asked, tugging the ring from her finger and holding it out to him. A single tear slid down her cheek; she reached up to briskly brush it away.
"No, that's not what I want, Christie" he said softly. "I want it back where it belongs." Taking it from her, he slid it down her slender finger. "Please tell me it's not too late."
She gazed up at him, the tears gathering in hereyes threatening to fall. She started to say something, her voice broke and along with it, any resolve she may have had to hold herself together. Pulling her to him, her sobs buried against his shoulder, he wrapped a protective arm around her, fighting to control the fragility of his own emotions. "God, Christie," he whispered, "I am so sorry. You didn't deserve that."
When she was finally able, she lifted her head and looked up at him. "Jimmy, I love you, with all my heart. But if you are saying that you still want this, you still want me, I can't choose. You have to know that."
Caressing her face in his hands, he leaned down to kiss her and wipe the remaining tears from her eyes. "I'm not asking you to. I never should have asked you to."
"What then, Jimmy?" her eyes searched his face, looking for his answer.
A rueful smile crossed his lips. "I'll take the package, Christie. But, we have to be allowed to live our own lives, to do things our way, without interference. I can't ask you to change who you are. These people are your friends, your family and this is your home…."
She rested her head against his chest, her hand reaching for him, her fingers entwining with his. "But, it's not yours," she said quietly. "Are you going to be okay with that?"
"Yeah, I am, and I am going to marry you, Christine Sullivan," he hesitated. "...but I think I need to establish some ground rules first."
"Do we get to talk about this?" she asked.
"No, there's really nothing to talk about. I want you to understand that there are certain things I am not willing to do."
"Such as…." she said firmly, pulling away again.
"Such as…discovering that I might have a hidden taste for cigars or brandy, or that I might actually harbor some talent for the game of golf." He looked at her and grinned, "Tennis, maybe, but that's about as country club as I am willing to get."
She returned his smile and a little ray of light returned to her eyes. "Fair enough and while we're in the throes of being so open here, is there anything else you'd like to get off your chest?"
"No, that's it for now. I'm still not sure what to make of the rest of it. But," he said lightly, "it's not like I'm going in alone. I mean I've got you and Erica watching my back, right?"
"Um…." she murmured, wrapping her arms around him and settling her head back down on his chest. "Erica can watch your back. I prefer the view right where I am."