CHAPTER 7: MENDING INJURIES
Raindrops beat rhythmically the large windows of the mansion forming unconnected streams that died in dozens of small pools spread on the gravel. Drip… drop… drip… drop… The monotonous gurgle was like a balm for the melancholic and still observer whose gaze was getting lost, absent, captive of vast thoughts. The youngster, dressed that morning in severe black, contemplated absorbed the wonderful sight that Nature had displayed before his eyes. Standing up, by the door balcony of his cozy studio, held in his hand a cup of coffee, already cold, its steaming look lost ago, irrevocable victim of oblivion.
In spite of the deep pain that still lacerated his soul, he had found some light in some inner place where he had believed to be surrounded only by darkness. In spite of the great variety of exotic and attractive places he had known in his travels around the world, no place moved him deeper than Lakewood in Spring: the unique emerald green dying the leaves of the chestnut trees, the exquisite and delicate flower buds about to blossom, the crystalline waters of the lively trout river turbulently crossing the property, the special quality of the air, so pure and refreshing… His spirit always felt renewed and refreshed when he returned. Lakewood was his private shrine, built with the sole purpose of singing the praises of Nature, bringing humanity closer to Divinity and its extraordinary creatures. Albert had always considered it like a balsam. There was no other place where he felt so in peace with himself, so near complete happiness.
Since he had returned, he had hardly done anything but thinking and enjoying the awesome landscapes of the property. Last night spent in Chicago had exhausted the few reserves of self-control he had left. The rejection suffered had opened in his soul a deep wound that he could only bear to heal in complete isolation, far away from Candy, from the familiarity of their shared life and its constant memories, secluded in his private and peaceful backwater… Loving her since childhood had made his feelings root profoundly in his heart. Forgetting her seemed as painful as amputating an essential part of himself. He had loved her forever, since he was able to recall… He could still evoke that innocent and cheerful child, with her oval face full of freckles that cried in heavy distress in Cartright Hill, the one she, naively, baptized as "her" Pony Hill.
Albert closed his eyes, trying to block the memories that kept slipping and hurting him. But it was so difficult… He needed time and he hadn't it in abundance… When he opened them again, he fixed his gaze on the first line of hedges surrounding the mansion, striving to find some pleasing thought that moved him away from the unbearable agony that had chased him for the last three days, from the reality that he had forced himself to accept and that for so many years he had tried to avoid. Suddenly he reminisced about a seesaw and a happy child on top of it, laughing uninhibited...
... Years ago, when he was still a child, he could swing freely; he could boost himself believing he could touch the sky with his little hands. When he was still a child…
With the cold coffee cup yet in his hands, absorbed by the images his mind recalled, he let his thoughts wander loose, like petals rocked by the wind, pursuing a distant past in which he had been so fortunate…
… Pauna and I always spent our summers here. She adored taking personal care of her rosebushes, even when her illness advised against it, and kept on visiting periodically during the year. I had to wait impatiently, until summer holidays, to meet her. I always thought Lakewood was our secret paradise, certainly a paradise for a child…
Were there children of my age in the neighborhood? I don't think so. Those summers of my childhood were lonely. But I think I never had a chance to get bored… Even when I was very young, I was fascinated by insects: the patient spider building her lethal web, the civilized ants harvesting for the winter, the charming nuptial ball of the ephemeral butterflies. I enjoyed marveled the wakeup of nature every morning: the playful and naughty squirrels racing on top of the branches, the vibrant vitality of the deer in constant alert, the undying strength of salmons as they thrived to survive.
Nearly all afternoons I used to ride. I still can remember it as if it was yesterday… My stallion's name was Ruano. My Brother in law gifted him to me when I had barely started my riding lessons at school. He bought it in one of his trips to Spain, when his frigate docked in Cadiz. He was a purebred Andalousian, passionate and moody. I fell in love with the wild beast as soon as my eyes landed on him, and even if he wasn't easy to tame due to his vehemence, with patience I ended up winning his indomitable soul. It was very strange seeing us apart, we spent together countless hours. Ruano became my best childhood friend. His death was my first great loss. It convinced me that my love for animals wasn't enough, that I should learn to alleviate their sufferings. It is ironic that I learnt my true vocation only when I lost him. But… why complaining… life is a whimsical lover that subjects us to its constant caprices, whether we want it or not… My best friend was gone forever and I was all alone again.
I decided to meet other children. I didn't want another pet whose loss made me suffer again. It seemed to me the only way to overcome my sadness. After sharing so many afternoons with Ruano, isolation wasn't as bearable as before. Pauna's health was deteriorating and she couldn't tend to me as she used to. Little Anthony, who by the time was around seven years old, demanded all her time and couldn't stand being without her. I started to wander around bigger areas as Lakewood became small for my growing curiosity. It was in one of those aimless excursions when I discovered Pony's Home. Immediately I felt captivated by the children living in there, my twins in spirit, as they were orphans like me. Since then, I started spying on their games, afraid they could discover me but enjoying their witty pranks as if they were my own.
That is how I met Candy. It is curious, thinking about her as a grownup woman only brings me pain, but recalling her as a child awakens my tenderness. She was barely six years old by the time, but yet the soul of every game; her vivacity and braveness, her roguery and cleverness, had her adored by all the kids but also granted her continuous scolding from her guardians. It was the first time in my life I felt that attracted to another person, the first time that I truly desired being friends with another human being. I had friends at school, but with her it was different. It was as if I saw a reflection of my own in her, as if I could listen to the echo of my soul into hers. Along my life, I have sometimes felt that sensation when meeting new people, a kind of sixth sense that reads directly into others' core, aware of the fact that there is an indelible link among us… That was the first time I truly noticed it. I didn't know that child, but I felt deeply linked to her. I didn't know anything about her, yet it was as if I knew everything.
I remember struggling hard trying to find the most suitable way to introduce myself to her. Thousands of times I had imagined how it would be playing with her, laughing with her jokes, climbing those trees she so well knew. I wanted to show her Lakewood, introduce her to Pauna and little Anthony, guide her through the beauty of the forest that surrounded our property and the fascinating animals that lived there… Nevertheless I was scared to take the first step… It was one afternoon of early September when fate brought me the chance I had wished for so long.
It seems as if it had just happened yesterday. Images are engraved deeply in my memories… That day I had asked George, who drove me to a party I had to attend to representing my sister, to stop for a moment at Cartright Hill. I desired to spy briefly on the charming family of orphans, as I wouldn't have the chance to do so again until the following year. I returned to Chicago the following morning to keep on with my studies. To make it more uncomfortable, that afternoon I was wearing the formal outfit of my family and the plaids of the kilt intertwined with my legs, hindering my movements. It took me an eternity to climb up the hill. My bagpipe weighed heavily in my arms, but I wanted to play a farewell tune in that place that I had ended up loving so much and had brought me so many happy moments. When I saw her there, alone, crying, my heart shrank of sadness. My first reaction was trying to hide but, some stronger compulsion boosted me to comfort her, overcoming my shyness. When she saw me and smiled, puzzled at my clothing, calling me "alien", I knew it had been worth it bearing with the heavy sweat those formal garments caused me. As we kept on talking she calmed down and a beautiful smile shone in her face. With the corner of my eyes I was seeing George making signs at me and, as she run towards the letter the wind had stolen briefly from her, I found my chance to disappear. I had never guessed I would treasure that moment so deeply in my heart, neither that, from there onwards, I would be her "Prince of the Hill"…
Albert took the coffee cup to his lips and drank serenely. He barely noticed its coldness and unpleasant taste. Evoking the past had filled him with warmth. If he closed his eyes he could still see brilliant colors exiling the darkness that since that morning seemed to cover every corner he looked at.
I didn't see her again for many years. My sister died the following year and Monty decided to send me to St. Paul School. British, with their particular imperturbability and cynicism, seemed to be especially unlikeable, besides sadness and rage oppressed me; however, little by little, I started overcoming my chagrin and got used to my new environment. George was my only link to the States during the five years I spent isolated in England. I wanted so desperately to go back to Lakewood, but at the same time, reminiscing the place without Pauna's presence, living there without her, seemed completely intolerable. The little family we had formed around her got destroyed when she left us. Robert, drowning in his turmoil, had returned to the sea, and little Anthony had been brought to Aunt Elroy's. I didn't have any home to come back to. Nobody was waiting for me. I was alone.
How odd is fate! I only allowed myself to return when I reached my eighteenth birthday. I felt strong; I thought the past couldn't harm me anymore. I decided to hide my true identity, even from my family. I wished to be free, live my life without restrictions, without having to avail on a surname, on my family position... I wanted to make my way on my own. Lakewood hadn't changed at all despite the time passed. Only Monty and George knew of my presence by the lumberjack house, and I knew too well the property not to be glimpsed by the watchmen.
One of the years I spent there, fate reunited me with Candy. She was as charming as she was when she was a little kid, even more, generous, patient, adorable… But her hidden unhappiness hurt me profoundly. Legans' abusive behavior towards her, overwork, constant vexations, jealousies had erased many smiles from her face. I had changed my appearance by that time not to be recognized, I used a disguise to hide my evident Andrew semblance: so identical to my father's and probably similar to Anthony's if he had reached my age. I dyed my hair auburn, very ill-favored, and let my moustache and beard grow. To sum up, when I met her again, instead of looking like a man in his twenties, I seemed to be in my forties. I still laugh when I remember her terrified glance when she woke up in my arms after her accident by the waterfall. She must have thought I was a villain, a murderer, a vagabond, or a pirate…
It was her suffering, the pleading of my nephews and my own intuition that made me realize the only way to guarantee her happiness was giving her our surname, adopting her in our family. I became her tutor, that idealized Uncle William she always adored and whose true identity she took that much to fathom. I preferred to be Mr. Albert for her, the friend who always showed up to comfort and helped her in the most troublesome moments, than Uncle William, the respected and distant tutor. I never longed for her gratitude, I wanted her trust, I wanted to see her happy. In any event, I couldn't spare her from the grieving future that was soon to arrive: Anthony's death, her love for Terry and how they had to part…
Even though I tried my best to give her happiness, I couldn't avoid her getting hurt with various thorns… And finally, I have also caused her anguish for not knowing how to hide my own feelings for her… If only I hadn't lost my memories! If only she hadn't taken care of me in that hospital! My childhood infatuation had already died when I saw her again in Lakewood. By that time I only wished to be her friend, her confident, her tutor… But living with her that final year, unaware of my past, of the bonds that linked us together… I learnt to see her not like a helpless child but as a woman of exquisite beauty, a fighter, noble, gentle, kind… I was twenty-three, she had just turned seventeen. I suppose it was inevitable that my feelings evolved… Destiny teased with me when I was allowed to survive that train accident during the war to face this penitence.
His lips curved into a bitter smile. He sighed and focused on the tranquility emanating from the outside. The frenetic rhythm of the main city couldn't reach him where he was. Crowds, burdens, frenzy… It was so long since he hadn't taken his time to enjoy the simple things of day to day life: a dawn, a storm, the chirping of a bird, some leaves carried away by the wind, a quiet coffee in the afternoon…
He turned to face the room and took a seat at his bureau. A note book, some guides and various volumes of African zoology were spread over the table. His obsession to forget his recent miseries had turned into imperative his desire to depart to Congo. He focused his energies and time at studying the project. The attention he dedicated was so intense he often lost track of time. Thanks only to the close vigilance the members of the service had upon him; he still took care of his daily meals and personal hygiene.
Again absorbed reading the books, he didn't notice a silent figure entering the chamber and taking a seat near the balcony. Tall, stalwart and olive-skinned, a deep analysis of his features would have revealed a clear Hindu ascendency. In his bronzed face, a pair of vivid and deep dark eyes stood out. The passing of time hadn't minimized at all the intensity of his gaze that, at the same time, was filled with great tenderness as he looked at Albert.
The visitor knew perfectly how to blur his presence with the surroundings; Albert was completely oblivious to him. Not even a more attentive observant would have been more successful. It was a skill he had improved along the years, since his childhood as a petty thief in the streets of London and that, sometimes, he still practiced, out of fun or when Andrew Family interests were compromised by any circumstance.
He observed the younger man in silence, his gaze severe and concerned. Since Albert had returned to Lakewood, and despite his efforts to hide it, he had witnessed his deep bitterness. He had not yet discovered the reason for such an odd behavior. Normally quiet, serene and joyful, Albert never seemed to him that desperate. Years ago he had promised his father that he would be a good advisor for him, that he would protect and take care of him at any moment; nevertheless he foresaw that, this time, cicatrizing his injuries depended only on himself. Unfortunately he was no longer a child easy to comfort but a man entirely aware of his possibilities.
"George!" greeted Albert when a soft cough captured his attention.
The visitor was perfectly aware of how Albert tried to compose himself to show him his best semblance. In spite of the dark circles under his eyes and his evident emotional exhaustion, he managed to give him a wide smile.
"I am surprised, sir!" he exclaimed. "You wake up as early as me if not more. I thought that, being on holidays, far away from your most immediate responsibilities, you would relax your strict discipline and focus in satisfying your most secret vices".
Albert pretended to laugh.
"And precisely you reproach me? I don't know anyone as responsible as my old George. Well, well, don't look at me like that. I know you aren't that old, my friend… Basically you have educated me, so my virtues and defects only have one source". Albert got silent for a moment as he raised his eyebrow. "By the way, how long have you been without vacations? And don't tell me you can't, because I have been trying to convince you of the opposite for four years. Now I am dealing personally with the family businesses, you can let certain responsibilities in my hands… Sometimes I think you don't trust my capacities…".
George, visibly disgruntled, frowned.
"Don't misunderstand me, sir. Your father would be really proud of you if he was still alive, but my debt towards him is not completely paid. He took me from the scum, educated me, offered me a position and a place of trust in his family. I promised him I would take care of you, protect your wellbeing and your interests. I consider my mission is not yet accomplished".
Albert looked at him skeptically.
"You are like an older brother to me, George. I know my father loved you like a son, though he never adopted you formally. In fact he left you a considerable legacy in his testament; you could easily live out of your rents. And here you are, working like a simple executive, protecting me as if I was still a child, when you should start considering enjoying your own life. You have already done enough for this family".
George looked at him closely. He knew him since he was a baby and cared for him as if he was of his same blood. He remembered the plump baby, sweet and calm, that Lady Beatrice, whom he had loved as if she was his own mother, gave birth to. "Look after my son, George", it was the only plea Mr. William had made him and his last worlds in his death bed. For months he had suffered the agony of a degenerative illness that had taken away all his faculties before driving him to an irreversible coma, preventing him from knowing his newborn son. It had been especially tough for him losing his protector, the sole fatherly figure he had ever known in his life.
Since then, he had dedicated his life to the accomplishment of that promise. Pauna had taken the responsibility of raising his brother and Montgomery Weston became his tutor and educative counselor, while he, George, was in charge of taking care of his inheritance. Mr. William had already made the proper arrangements to guarantee his protégé's admission in Harvard and his excellent marks, along with the testamentary disposals made by his benefactor, allowed him to have a prominent role in the management of the family businesses. Those duties hadn't prevented him from doing other more trivial activities, personal favors to Albert who, at the conclusion of his studies in England, had decided to hide his true identity, living away from the family. Adopting Candy had been one of them: saving her from slavery in Mexico, taking her to London… and finally introducing her to the mysterious "Uncle William", his personal contribution to the relationship of both youngsters, destined to live together but strangely distant.
"What do you say, George? Don't you think it is time you take a break?"
Albert's words awoke him from his silent meditation.
"I am afraid, sir", he retorted ironically, "that even if you have become a man, you are still worrying me. How could I leave you alone? I am in my best years. When you become a respectable married man and give us an heir, I will see if the time has arrived for those holidays you mention".
George didn't miss the absent expression of Albert, who seemed to resume his readings. He was determined to even ignite his anger, if that was the only way to help him. Since he had arrived to Lakewood he had hardly talked to anyone. He had preferred to give him some days of solitude to ruminate his affliction; nevertheless he considered the moment had arrived to take him out of his apathy. It saddened him deeply seeing him in that deplorable state.
"Don't tell me you haven't already set your eyes in any of those marriageable ladies that stalk you in Chicago".
The youngster answered with an expression particularly fierce and George feigned to smile amused. So that is it, he thought. A love matter.
"So well, who is she?", he inquired, but his question only resulted in a more stubborn silence. "It isn't necessary that you answer, sir. Your secretiveness is even more eloquent than any answer. Since the beginning I suspected your relation with Candy could only end in catastrophe".
His words had the desired effect and Albert left his pretended indifference.
"If you know more than me about my love life, George, I don't see the point of continuing talking about this topic".
At least I have managed to make him get involved and unload his frustration, George thought. He stood up and for a moment remained in silence. He could perceive, with the clarity that the fact knowing someone gives, that Albert felt badly hurt and, something more important, he was immensely unhappy. He had always been too generous for his own sake, excessively aware of people's feelings to take care of his own. He was used to fight alone taking care of burdens that weren't his, oblivious to his very needs. He had to be very tactful if he didn't wish to deepen his wounds.
"I guess you have revealed your feelings to her and she has rejected you, am I right?"
Albert nodded with a gesture. It had never been easy for him talking about his feelings with anyone. Not even with George.
"And I ask you", George continued. "Is the world going to end because of that? If Candy is not able to close the doors to her past, it isn't worth it that you keep on fighting to conquer her affection, don't you think?"
The sincere concern of his friend changed Albert's attitude.
"I have been in love with her for longer than I can remember, George. She has poisoned my blood. How am I to forget her? I had the vain hope that once in Chicago, living together, after Grandchester's marriage; she would end up returning my feelings. But I have realized I was only lying to myself. Three days ago I opened an insuperable abyss between us. I knew she only saw me as an older brother and always tried to hide the growing intensity of my feelings from her; nevertheless, the other night… I don't know, George. I felt possessed by an anxiety that clouded my senses, breaking my self-control… I kissed her. You should have seen her face: fear, incomprehension, maybe even some repugnance. I felt like the vilest of men. My thoughts seemed to me completely unacceptable, even sinful. I ran away, George, I run away from her trying to soothe my conscience, nauseated by the image of myself she reflected, horrified for my behavior. I came here looking for some solace; I couldn't bear to face her again. I am a coward, George. Never till now, had I given her reasons to feel ashamed of our relationship, and now, now I can't forgive myself for what happened".
The older man approached Albert from his back. His bitterness awoke memories he thought deeply buried. He leaned his hands over Albert's shoulders as his eyes closed in a personal evocation of his past. Albert perceived the peculiar tension of his fingers and knew he was about to listen to a confession. George had always been reserved and introverted, rarely fond of sharing his feelings.
"Maybe I could share something with you to help you overcome your pain… And you could ask now why I dare to give you any advice when my own life seems so empty, when I never married nor shared my life with any female…"
Albert was about to protest but George interrupted him.
"Allow me continue, sir. What I am going to say doesn't seem easy, especially because it is you."
George breathed heavily, trying to find the courage. His jaws tensed.
"… When your father gave me shelter, I was a vagabond, a rascal, an orphan without a proper home that merely survived stealing. Without means, without education; I don't recall my parents. The only life I knew was the life of the streets and the one of my uncle's hut, an unhealthy place where battering and abuse where daily currency. I thank God that evening of June I chose your father as my victim, and even more that your father pitied me and brought me to the States with him, decided to mend my ways… It seems all the Andrews are destined to take the most unfortunate under your wings…"
His voice died momentarily and a smile curved his beautiful lips, which no longer were shaded under his former moustache.
"When I arrived to Chicago everything seemed fascinating to me, modern, wonderful. It was like living a dream… but of course, I was determined not to tell your father. I was too proud and ill-mannered to admit my good luck and thank him. I preferred to appear before him like an enraged victim, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to stop my tears of happiness. However, I wasn't prepared to face the biggest of the gifts that awaited me in my new life".
George swallowed hard. His mouth was dry and his heart beat out of control inside his chest, memories so vivid that he could nearly touch them with his fingers.
"The day I met her, all my existence changed. I was ten years old, she was only six, but she was the sweetest, prettiest, most charming girl I had ever met. She was like the incarnation of an angel. As soon as I got a glimpse of her for the first time, I knew I wanted to become a man able to win her heart, someone able to live up to her wildest dreams, to protect her, to make her smile. Since then, improving before her eyes, trying to wake up in her some affection became my ultimate aspiration… If I had been sure of that while we were both children, as we both grew up, the wish that she could be the woman of my life became a certainty. Pauna became my passion, and my love for her, with the passing of time, only could grow and mature.
Albert listened in silence, unexpressive under the attentive older man's gaze, whose fists clenched bitterly.
"I never knew if she shared my feelings. I know she had some affection for me; she loved me like an older brother. She cared for me, teased me, played with me… But I never dared to confess my true feelings to her. When you were born, she was only thirteen years old, while I was seventeen. We were too young to face that responsibility in your father's absence. Soon after, your mother, Lady Beatrice, died; she was a warm and delicate female, her death left us in the most complete desolation. Pauna always had a fragile health, and that only aggravated her state. Hannah took care of all of you while I studied in Harvard, as your father had disposed. The illusion to become a proud man, well educated, far away from the misery of my childhood, worthy of Pauna, kept burning inside my heart, pushing me forward. Unfortunately during those years she met Robert Brown, the young heir of a privateer, and both fell in love. She barely was eighteen years old and he twenty-two when they married. I discreetly pushed myself into the background, suffering in silence. I convinced myself that it was enough for me being by her side, acting like an older brother for her… but I lived a hell, sir. Robert was continuously sailing and she languished, sighing for his return every night. I kept on living in the mansion in Chicago, though she had moved to Robert's house, a few miles away, when she married. Imagining her there, lonely, filled me with sadness. Sometimes she came for a visit with you both and I could nearly imagine nothing had changed between us, that she was free still, that I could keep my hopes for her alive. I remember her looking at me with that especial sparkle in her eyes, as if she had guessed what I tenderly hid deeply in my heart…"
George took a step aside, his voice deeper, his gaze lost in the distance.
"The day she left us, the light disappeared from my life and my soul was buried along with her body. I was thirty years-old, she was only twenty-six. I had spent half of my life adoring her in silence and she had disappeared forever".
Tears fought to roll down his cheeks but with a supreme effort of his will, George managed to stop them.
"I understand you, sir, better than I wish I did. At least you were brave enough to admit your love in front of Candy. I will always live with the doubt. If these years have taught me something is that life goes on, despite everything. And that hearts are cured even of the deepest wounds. The world is full of excellent women able to love with the full intensity of their hearts. You can't, you shouldn't live tied up to the past. You must give yourself the opportunity of finding happiness. And I swear, you aren't the only one. I do try myself too. With all my strengths".
During the silence that followed, none of them uttered a single sound, both focused on their thoughts.
"George", said Albert at last, "It would have been a real honor to have had you as my brother in law. I couldn't think of a better man".
George couldn't avoid smiling, his eyes full of affection.
"Do as I say, sir. Forget Candy. It is absurd languishing for a hopeless love".
Albert stood up. He diverted his gaze towards the window and realized it had stopped raining. The sun rays tried to trespass shyly the dark clouds that started to dissipate.
"Have you seen George? What a magnificent day despite everything! They say that after the hardest and saddest winter it always comes a placid spring, and it is true".
George approached him and stared at the magnificent view. All the vegetation seemed revived and the beautiful colors shone brilliantly in the clarity of the morning.
"Have you decided already when you are going back to Chicago, sir?"
Albert stretched lazily.
"I am thinking to stay in Lakewood at least for one more week. I need to finish the organization of my trip and reserve my ticket in the Lady Louisa".
George turned to face him.
"Then, when do you think I should inform Candy of the last arrangements you have taken concerning Lakewood?"
Albert raised his eyebrow.
"I would be thankful, my friend, if that could be done as soon as possible. When this is solved, nothing more will retain me in Chicago".
The older man pressed lightly Albert's arm in a supportive gesture before leaving the chamber. Once alone, Albert sat again, trying to concentrate in the readings he had pending. After talking to George, he felt his heart had been freed from a burden that not long ago seemed infinitely heavy. Thanks to him he had finally realized it didn't have any sense sighing for an impossible love, for a woman that only sheltered brotherly feelings towards him and who, in the remote case that started loving him, would always be obsessed by a love lost in her adolescence. He had struggled so much to make her forget the past, to open her soul to a new life, to the future that brilliantly unfolded in front of their eyes! But reproaches were senseless, nor towards her, neither towards him. He had to give himself a chance to start again, to be happy, and to start a new life in which nothing anchored him to the past.
He was sure he would overcome the nostalgia. He trusted his own strengths to overcome the pain. He had started to control it already, and he knew that with time it would vanish little by little… forever. For the first time in many years he was able to picture a new horizon without Candy's presence.
©Rosa Carmona 2001