Chapter Twenty-Six

Maris came downstairs as Nate's butler announced she had a delivery, three trunks and a crate.

Her eyes were puffy and she was trembling. Ever since she and Nick had parted tearfully in the train station three days before, she had been in a state of anxiety.

Chip had sent her a message from James David, assuring her of his love and support:

"I will see you soon Mother. Send a message to my friend. They know where to find me. I trust your plan for our future and I will await my part in making this right again. Dutifully and with my love, Your Son."

Alice came out of the drawing room and pulled Maris into an embrace, "Let's put up your clothes. I would like to help you."

"I would appreciate it," as two stable boys carried the trunks upstairs.

Maris went upstairs and pushed aside the six dresses she had brought: the two ready-made green dresses, the hazel store-bought dress, her formal dress from the ball, the dress Nick proposed to her in at the orangerie, and a new pine-colored dress she had made last week. Five shades of green and a brown. She smiled thinking of Nick's partiality to the color. Any thought of the past two months with him warmed her soul. She touched her engagement ring hidden on the chain in her bodice.

Two dress boxes were stored on the floor with her shoes on top. She stared at her security that Brynnie had had the foresight to send ahead to Nate's. The older lady had served her for over ten years. They were lawfully hers but she felt guilty for no reason.

Alice opened the first trunk and a loud gasp was released. Maris turned to look at Alice. She immediately saw the contents of the first trunk were drenched in India ink. Her elegant writing station had been placed on the very top of her best dresses—-without a lid on the ink. Numerous bottles of ink were strategically placed in the trunk to make large stains on each dress.

Alice pulled each fine dress out of the trunk. They were all unwearable.

"Oh Maris, they are ruined."

Maris was speechless, "It wasn't an accident was it?"

Alice said no.

The second trunk was opened to a pungent smell of olive oil. Open containers of her favorite cooking oil from a local grove were cracked and broken soaking the cloaks and clothing in a thick, pungent oil absorbed into the fabric rendering them unusable. Two bottles of red wine were broken and several inches deep in the trunk. The satins and other fabric were drenched in dark red.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. Alice was fuming.

"Do I dare?"

The third smaller trunk was filled with shards of glass from a shattered mirror. Crushed hats and hair combs broke in two. Her toiletries and personal undergarments were destroyed.

She bent over a rectangular wooden crate. Alice's boys had loosened the lid. She had saved her great gasp and pain for its contents. Years of work gone, destroyed. Twenty or so crushed orchids lay in a pile of her heirloom rose petals ripped from her garden. She recognized the fuschia and white broken orchid from Nick on the top. The box was filled with shards of blue glass that appeared to make tiny butterflies.

"James David bought me that blue glass wind chime for my balcony. I forgot to pack it when I left. It was my favorite thing in the world."

The tears began to fall.

Maris backed up and sat on the bed; Alice pointed out a leather file folder taped to the inside of the crate box.

"I am so sorry. This is despicable." as she looked at the secured file.

"He will never let me leave, will he?"

"Yes, he will, sweetie. Nate, Jarrod, and Nick will make sure of it. Let my boys get these out of here and we will do some shopping today. My treat."

Alice asked her if she wanted her to open the large leather envelope.

"Yes, I am too afraid."

Alice tentatively shook the envelope and it seemed to have papers in it—-she carefully opened it and gave a sigh of relief. She pulled out six photos; five of James David, at his christening, first horse, with her in Baltimore, at the Capitol, and with his hunting dogs. The sixth was a young portrait of Maris at 16.

"Brynnie must have done that. They were all in frames in my room. I assume she was told to destroy them too and didn't. She has such a heart for me and James David. She has been with us since he was five."

"Maris, there are good people all around us. We just never know when little mercies will show up." She kissed Maris on the cheek as the young mother told the story behind each picture.

Alice and Maris both shed more tears until they were interrupted by the stable boys to take the crates down to refuse.

"Don't burn anything until Mr. Springer comes home. He will want to see the evidence."

"Just a minute," and Maris went to the flower crate. She fished around and found one blue butterfly intact without its antennae. "I just want a memento to remind me of what I have stored in my heart."

"Maris, let me get a cloth, you have cut yourself."

She handed her fingers to Alice, "Good thing broken hearts don't bleed."

"But they do heal, my darling."

—-&-

"I have two assets in my closet."

Alice cocked her head, "The court clerk took your jewelry box, even your sapphire wedding ring. Assets?"

"The judge left me my clothing if you remember."

"Yes?"

"When I left the ranch last week, I brought the two Worth gowns I owned. I can sell them. Brynnie encouraged me to take them. I guess she knew or suspected what might happen."

"You have two?" with wide eyes.

"Yes, and they are clothing in every sense of the word. The House of Fracone or Madame Xanadu would purchase them. They in fact made an offer after I wore them to several events."

She walked to the closet and pulled out the boxes. She unwrapped the silk gauze that packaged them; she laid them on the bed. Alice couldn't help herself as she appreciated the finest couture in society.

"These are stunning."

"They are worth quite a bit." Alice couldn't help but blurt out.

"Yes, JD paid $10,000 each for a trip we took to the East Coast to court a new brokerage with JP Morgan and the Astors. He made over a million dollars in that venture and he said I was his good luck charm in a fancy French dress."

Alice shook her head at the man's dismissive attitude of Maris—-something to be owned and possessed.

"They are the only thing I had of value. I am proud of myself for taking them."

"Maris, I am proud of you. You have great courage to begin a new life."

"I call my courage, Nick Barkley," Maris said with conviction.

—&—

Nick had been home two days and almost went back to San Francisco half a dozen times. He had downed two bottles of whiskey and sweated it out on the fence line. His men were staying clear of his foul mood and he would not make eye contact with his mother. He knew she could read his mind if they ever locked eyes—-and he would cry his eyes out, just like a little boy. So he kept moving so as to not be alone with his thoughts. He hadn't slept more than an hour or two straight since he returned.

"Nick?"

He turned around in the corral as he was brushing down the horses. He deeply sighed and turned around to see his mother leaning heavily on her cane with Rosita at her side.

"I hadn't been down here in a while. Wanted to see the new gelding?"

"I could have brought her up to the house."

Her eyes met his and he felt like he was losing his composure.

"Rosita, my son can walk me back to the house. Thank you."

He turned his back and slowly put up the grooming tools. Victoria sat on the bench by the door. She patiently waited on him to speak. He didn't,

"Mother, why don't we walk back to the gazebo at least? That bench isn't very comfortable."

He took her arm and walked her slowly to the rose garden. His large weathered hand covered her tiny white hand with icy blue vessels so close to the skin. Nick looked down at her hands in love and squeezed them as they walked slowly to the shade.

"Nicholas—-"

The use of his full name brought back the lilt of Maris's voice and the lump in his throat grew.

"Nick, I am so sorry—I see the pain in your eyes. I raged myself for you finally finding love after Peg and it being ripped away so cruelly. "

He just nodded and stared straight ahead. He knew if he made eye contact with his beautiful mother, he would fall apart. She and Maris were polar opposites in personality and countenance but—they could touch his soul the same way Peg had.

He took a deep breath, "It's not forever, Mother. We will—have to work this out for the boys," and he cleared his throat and whispered, "Can't take a boy from his mother."

Victoria tried to stifle a sob but couldn't hold it back, "Oh Nick. I love you so son,"

He barely whispered through his own tears and he just held his mother as she wet his shirt with her tears. He added a few tears of his own to her gray curls.

They sat that way for almost thirty minutes and Victoria finally pulled away. She dried the rest of her tears and smoothed down the wet spot on his shirt. He undid his bandana and blew his nose.

"Nick, there is some pie in the kitchen and some cold milk. If my memory serves me—-"

"Yes Mother, pie still just works real fine. Just like it did when I lost my first pony."

She smiled and he helped her up. They walked arm in arm to the kitchen.