Chapter 75

Carmen was not only awake, but in the parlor when I returned to Val's home. She was sitting by the stained glass window with her face toward the light and a cheerful expression on her surprisingly well-rested face.

The parlor contained a beautiful, large window fitted with stained glass that Val had commissioned many years earlier. The panel consisted primarily of blues and greens depicting grass against the background of a cloudless sky. The entire work was framed with yellow rectangles in two different tones that added a radiant golden encasement and warmed the cooler colors.

The piece took months to complete and was brought to the house wrapped in several tarps. Seeing the stained glass art revealed and set into place had been quiet exciting and Val had been very proud of his commissioned piece.

The wavy, bubbled glass left fractured light throughout the room, and depending on the time of the day and the conditions outside, it was what I imagined it looked like to swim far beneath the ocean waves with the sun glinting through to the depths.

The imagery tugged at my heart and the thoughts of Erik and his affinity for the seaside. Most of the time we had remained with our bare feet on dry land or the water lapping up to our shins, but Erik constantly darted into the waves and fell into the water, giving me a constant fright.

"Phelan," Carmen said, pulling her knit blanket up to her chest. "You are here quite early. We don't start the games until at least six."

"I didn't come for game night. I came to see you."

"Me?"

"My favorite sister," I said, taking a seat in the high-back chair beside her.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Elizabeth at the end of the hall peering into the parlor. She took a step back, allowing me a moment to speak with her mother.

Carmen smiled warmly. "How are you?"

I shrugged. "I've been better. How are you?"

"I've been worse," she replied.

Her reply made me chuckle. "I suppose I could say the same and sound far less pessimistic."

"I would prefer hearing the truth," she replied.

"Then I stand by what I've said."

"How was the gallery?" Carmen asked.

"Good," I said. "Surprisingly good."

"So good you left my husband there?" she teased.

"Yes, he's locked up until Tuesday when the gallery opens at eleven."

Carmen shook her head at me. "Did you see the newspaper yesterday and all the fuss about the opera house?"

"I did."

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think it is a great tragedy to the city, one that should not have happened."

Carmen studied me carefully. "Joshua says you sympathize with the ghost."

"I would not say 'sympathize' is the correct word."

"What would you say, then?"

"I would say that as a spectator to the events, he was not at fault in the way that others have made him seem."

"You should be careful, Phelan," Carmen cautioned. "Those words could be considered dangerous."

I nodded in agreement. "I am glad you and Val left before the chandelier fell," I said. "It would have been difficult to make it out of the theater with the rest of the crowd in a panic."

Carmen shrugged. "It would have given me a few more months at most," she replied. "Good months? I suppose we shall see."

The air in my lungs left with one sharp exhale. "Months?" I questioned. "Who said months?"

She lowered her gaze. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Carmen–"

"Keep your voice down," she warned. "I don't want Elizabeth to know."

I leaned in closer, my voice barely above a whisper, "Eliza is worried about you."

Carmen sniffed, her expression troubled. "I have not said a word to her," she whispered back.

"About…about your illness in general or the speculation of how much time you have remaining?"

"Both?"

"Both? What do you mean by both?"

"We have not told her and you will not either."

My mouth dropped open. "You cannot be serious."

"Elizabeth cannot handle the stress of knowing that I am…at the end of my life."

Her words chilled the blood in my veins. "Carmen, Eliza will be far worse off if she loses you unexpectedly."

"She will be fine," Carmen insisted.

"She will be devastated. How can you possibly keep this from her?"

Behind me, I heard padded footsteps on the stairs and the swish of skirts with each step.

"You spend your days confined to your bed," I pointed out, keeping my voice low. "Eliza is sixteen and far from stupid. Don't you think she already knows or suspects something?"

Before Carmen could answer, Elizabeth reached the bottom of the stairs. I turned my head and met her glassy-eyed gaze. Her mottled complexion and the tear tracks down her cheeks indicated she had overheard the conversation at least in part.

"Mother," Elizabeth called out. She swiftly stepped forward and nearly collapsed at Carmen's feet, so overcome with emotion she made no attempt to catch herself. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

I managed to grab her around the waist and ease her into the chair I had vacated to keep her from falling to the floor.

"Elizabeth, go back to your room," Carmen sternly ordered. "This is a conversation for adults, not children."

"Mother, please," Elizabeth begged.

"I said go," Carmen snapped. "I will not discuss this with you a moment longer."

"What is the point in sending your own daughter away at a time like this? For pity's sake, Carmen, she is already aware. Look at her. Do not make her leave your side. She wants to be with you."

Elizabeth gasped for a trembling breath. I offered her my hand and she squeezed it tightly, rocking back and forth in her chair.
"Please don't make me leave," Eliza begged. "Please don't make me leave you. Not now, Mother."

Carmen met my eye and shook her head. "This is not what I wanted, not ever, for my only child to see me like this."

"I don't care if you're unwell," Elizabeth wailed. "I just want to be with you."

"You will worry now," Carmen said, her voice quivering.

Eliza shook her head. "I was already worried. I was worried that you did not love me."

Carmen's eyes narrowed, but she didn't reply.

"You do love, Mother. Don't you?"

Carmen looked away and sighed, and I found myself speechless by her reaction.

In recent weeks, I had noticed the strain between them, the way that Carmen addressed Elizabeth as if her own daughter were a burden or she was annoyed with Eliza for one reason or another.

In the past I had visited more often, spending many hours a week to see Elizabeth and take her to the theater, the parks, museums, and even the zoo on occasion. I attended every single one of her ballet recitals from the time she was a distracted toddler wandering the stage to her days as a giftest soloist. Carmen was always present, but rarely seemed like she desired to be there.

As a mother, Carmen had never been overly affectionate. She didn't sit with Elizabeth perched on her lap or make attempts to sooth her only child when she bumped her head or her nose was stuffed up.

It wasn't that Carmen was unkind–at least not in the sense I had experienced in my childhood–but she did not go out of her way to mother her daughter.

Elizabeth's words hung in the air. I had never asked anyone if they loved me. Bjorn, Gyda, and Alak would not have said that they did. The woman with the cart I was fairly certain had loved me, if only for a brief time.

Val wanted to care about me, but we were two very different people. Erik had loved me and I had loved him.

The only person I knew for certain who loved me without hesitation, without condition, was Elizabeth and I adored her in return. She did not deserve to be left wondering if her own mother, with months left of her life, loved her.

"Carmen," I said under my breath.

"If I did not love you, Eliza, I would not have tried so hard to keep you protected."

"I did not mean to doubt you," Elizabeth said apologetically, bowing her head.

"I cannot bear to see you like this," Carmen said. "Dry your eyes and sit up. You're ruining your good posture."

Elizabeth obeyed, sitting upright while I pulled my hand away and gave her my kerchief to dry her eyes.

"You will not treat me differently, either of you," Carmen ordered. "Understood?"

I was not particularly fond of the way Carmen spoke to Elizabeth, but set aside my thoughts and nodded in agreement for my niece's sake.

"Carmen, if you are feeling up to it next weekend, I would be honored to treat you and Elizabeth to a matinee show of Elizabeth's choosing. If Val isn't still locked in the gallery, he is invited as well."

Elizabeth appeared on the verge of bursting with excitement while Carmen nodded in agreement. "That would be lovely."

There was a knock at the front door before Elizabeth could begin suggesting shows for the following weekend. Elizabeth sprang to her feet and opened the door to the excited shrieks and high-pitched voices of frantic teenage girls.

"Can you come with us to the sandwich shop?" one of the girls blurted out.

"I will have to ask," Elizabeth said.

"Make haste, Lizzy." The girl was bouncing up and down as if she had springs for legs.

"What is the rush?" Elizabeth asked.

The girls burst into laughter. "Anthony is there," another girl said.

"Do keep your voices down! Oh, but Father isn't home yet."

"Surely someone else can agree," they begged.

"My uncle is here…"

"Your uncle? The handsome one?"

The question was followed by a fit of giggles.

I furrowed my brow and leaned back to see how many girls were in the foyer. Fortunately for me, I looked toward them just in time to see Elizabeth roll her eyes in disgust.

"My uncle is in his mid thirties, which makes him more than twice as old as us," she said.

One girl scoffed.

"How very dreadful."

"Yes, he's too old," another agreed.

"But he is still handsome," another girl said. "For a man of his age. The beard is very distinguished."

"He dresses well," Eliza agreed as if it was my only redeeming quality, "But sadly he has no sense of humor," she solemnly told them.

I cleared my throat before they could continue speaking. There was no group of creatures on the face of the earth as sweet, scathing and ultimately terrifying as a gathering of teenage girls. I was faced with six of them.

"You are not making a very good case for me agreeing to this sandwich shop excursion, Elizabeth Elaine," I sternly replied.

All at once, the girls burst into shrieks of deafening laughter as they peered from the foyer into the parlor.

"He is handsome, Lizzy. I don't care if he's old."

Beside me, Carmen snorted with laughter. "They're very charitable, aren't they? Calling such an old man handsome," she teased.

"How far is the sandwich shop?" I asked as I walked into the foyer and crossed my arms. "And who is Anthony and how old is he?"

It was impossible to hear them all speaking at once, but from what they said over one another, Anthony was seventeen, very handsome, the son of a baker, had very nice eyes, smelled very nice all the time, and apparently looked to see if Elizabeth was there with her friends and seemed to think her absence was a tragedy.

Everything the girls stated was reason enough for me to say 'No, wait until your father returns'. But given that the sandwich shop was on my way home, I could easily walk by, peer in the window, and make certain that young man with his nice eyes kept them trained appropriately on my niece.

"What are your thoughts?" I asked Carmen over my shoulder.

Carmen smiled back at Elizabeth. "He's a nice young man. She may go with her friends as long as you agree since her father is not returned yet."

Elizabeth and the group of girls her age who had asked for her company stared back at me with their doe eyes. I issue each of them the most stern gaze I could muster beneath powerful persuasions of such an innocent-looking group of girls.

"You may go for an hour," I said.

The girls thanked me profusely and practically ran out the door with Elizabeth lingering behind a moment longer.

"Thank you, Uncle," she said. "And thank you, Mother. I love you."

"I love you as well, Elizabeth."

"I must run!" she said, squealing as she darted down the steps.

"Where are you heading?" I heard Val ask as he apparently returned home.

"To the sandwich shop with friends!" Elizabeth replied, conveniently leaving out the boy she wanted to see. "Uncle Phelan, your bag from the market is on the ice box in the laundry room!"

I held the door open for him as he carried three separate bouquets into the house.

"Couldn't decide?" I asked, eyeing the three very different arrangements with amusement.

"The ladies at the shop suggested one for the bedroom, parlor, and dining room."

That certainly sounded like something Clary and Cassandra would say. They were quite the persuasive duo and constantly suggested more than I had intended to purchase.

"I am certain Carmen will love all three," I said.

Val started to speak, but paused. "Are you leaving now?"

I looked from him to the clock. "Did you want me to stay?" I asked.

"If you'd like."

Val ushered me back into the foyer where Carmen rested in her chair and said he would return shortly after he placed the other flowers upstairs and in the dining room.

I took a seat beside her again and adjusted the knit blanket around her shins.

"You are upset with me about Elizabeth," she commented.

"Why would you think I am upset?" I questioned.

"You think I should have told her."

I shrugged. "Yes, that is true. I find it unfair to keep such an enormous secret from your daughter."

Carmen pursed her lips and inhaled. "I wanted to protect her."

"That isn't protection," I protested. "She would have been devastated if she lost you suddenly and she didn't know why."

Carmen narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps, then, it was for my own protection."

"I beg your pardon?"

Carmen tilted her head back. "I have been in pain for over sixteen years," she said. "Pain from carrying a child. Pain that would not exist if…" She paused for a long moment. "If Elizabeth didn't exist."

"Do you blame Elizabeth, Carmen?" I questioned.

"Some days, I do," she answered.

It was a horrible admission, one that left me feeling quite angry for how Carmen felt toward Elizabeth.

"I hope for Elizabeth's sake that you've never said that to her."

"Not to her face, but sometimes I think she already knows." Carmen bunched up the knit blanket in her hand. "I have been a harsh mother to her. I have made it clear when she disappoints me."

The very thought made me shiver. All I could think of was Alak and how his silence had resonated his indifference toward me, how one night and one mistake had left me aware of my failings.

"Almost done," Val called from the dining room.

"Are you coming back to game night?" Carmen asked me, changing the subject.

"I'm not certain I will have time to return. The end of the school year is approaching."

She nodded, her eyes heavy and features pinched. The sunlight filtered through the stained glass cast a blue tint over her exposed flesh, as though she were deprived of oxygen.

"Next week, then," she said.

"Yes, I will have my lessons put together on Saturday rather than procrastinating until Sunday afternoon."

Carmen slowly turned her head and looked past me at Val. "Where did those come from?" she asked.

"The nice young ladies at the florist," Val answered, presenting one of the arrangements to Carmen. "Aren't they lovely? There are orchids for the bedroom, lilies for the dining room, and chrysanthemums for the parlor."

"Three bouquets of flowers?" Carmen asked. She managed to smile, but the expression was weak and her eyes nearly closed. "How wonderful."

Val placed the vase onto the parlor table and took a step back. "There is nothing quite like fresh flowers, is there, my dear?"

Carmen shook her head, her eyes fully closed. "No, there is not."

"Would you rather have the orchids down here?" he asked. "I can move them if you'd like."

"No, this is perfect," Carmen rasped.

The pride on Val's visage slipped into a look of despair. "Would you like to return to bed?" he asked.

Carmen inhaled. "No, not with Phelan visiting. It would be rude for me to leave."

"If you are tired, by all means, rest," I replied. "You needn't exert yourself for me."

Her eyes slit open, her face oddly crumpled as if she were attempting to hold back an invisible weight from crushing here. "It's been years since you've paid a visit like this."

"I was here for game night," I replied.

"No, that isn't what I mean. You have come by for parties, but not like this." She reached out from under the blanket and I took her ice cold hand in mine. "I will stay in the parlor as long as you wish to be in our home."

"Carmen, I will not think of you as rude if you cannot stay down here," I said.

Her hand squeezed mine and she wanly smiled back at me. "Forgive me for saying so, but I don't know how many times are left and I would not wish to squander this opportunity as I have done for years."

"That is behind us," I assured her, placing her hand between both of mine.

"You are so warm," Carmen said.

Val remained standing off to the side, the vase of flowers still clutched in his hands.

"I must feel like death to you," Carmen said under her breath.

"Do not say that," I replied.

I had been careful not to lay a hand on Bjorn when he was on his deathbed. From the moment I had pulled back the blankets and seen the bed sores, I could not bring myself to touch him.

I'd given him tea, but had been precise in my handling so that his flesh didn't touch mine. Mostly, as he had not wanted my company, I sat on the opposite side of the room like a mute reaper waiting to collect a ragged soul.

Death, I imagined, was cold and bloodless, but I hadn't experienced it and I didn't want to think of Carmen's hand against mine as morbid.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, lips parting as she took a long, deep breath.

"Tell me about the gallery," she requested.

"Well," I said, "there were a lot of people there for the final day. A great deal more than I expected. My broker, Theo was there."

"What is Theo like?" Carmen asked.

"He's practically a fetus," I replied. "Or at least he seems to be much younger than I would have expected."

A devious grin erupted across her face as Val placed the flowers onto the table and seated himself on the window bench.

"Well, I do believe Elizabeth established earlier that you are simply ancient. Perhaps Theo isn't too young after all and you are an old man living in a young person's world."

"Most amusing," I replied.

"My apologies, please continue," she said, squeezing my hand.

"Val–" I started to say, but stopped myself, knowing how much my cousin disliked being called by his first name. "Joshua, I should say, was invaluable."

"Oh?" Carmen questioned.

"Theo wanted me to discuss my artwork, but I had nothing prepared. Thankfully Joshua was able to assist and keep the gallery discussion moving flawlessly."

Carmen's eyes slit open, her gaze sliding to my cousin. "Not my husband being the center of attention."

"Indeed, your husband, basking in the spotlight."

The two of them gazed at one another and Carmen offered her free hand to Joshua, who brought it to his lips and tenderly kissed her.

It had been so long since I had seen the two of them share tenderness, since they had looked at each other with adoration or a knowing look as if the two of them shared the same thoughts.

I wondered if the two of them had felt their relationship start to crack or if they had drifted away from one another and not realized it until they were so far apart it was impossible to swim back to one another.

"Do you want another blanket?" Joshua asked.

"I will bring it to you so that Joshua needn't move."

Carmen shook her head. "Neither of you need to be troubled. The sun is warm enough," she said. "And the company is even more soothing to my soul."

The light streamed through the outer edges of the window that framed the stained glass and Carmen tilted her head to the side, out of the reach of the blues, greens, and yellows and into the bright sun. She smiled to herself, her hand slipping from mine to give to her husband, who accepted without hesitation.

"You look lovely, my dear," Joshua said.

"You are either extremely kind or your eyesight is failing," Carmen replied.

Joshua leaned forward and kissed her brow. "You are lovely, my dear," he whispered against her flesh.

The front door opened and Elizabeth appeared. Her lips were parted as if she were about to blurt something out, but she stopped herself, neck craned once she spotted the flowers first, then her father beside her mother. I stood, motioning her forward to take my seat.

"Uncle Phelan, you don't need to get up," Elizabeth said.

I smiled back at her. "I will grab another seat," I told her, walking down the hall to the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall, I heard sniffling and looked over my shoulder to discover Eliza behind me.

"You didn't have to follow me, Eliza."

"I need a moment, Uncle," she said, putting her hand over her mouth as she scurried past me.

"Eliza?" I questioned, following her into the kitchen where the maid startled and quickly saw herself out and into the pantry.

Elizabeth paced the length of the room, arms folded and head down. "Take the chair and I will be out in a moment."

I grabbed the back of the chair and paused, watching as she walked around the opposite side of the table. "I do hope Anthony did not say or do anything to upset you."

Elizabeth paused and took a breath. "Anthony was leaving when I walked in. We barely spoke a word."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Uncle Phelan, I am not trying to be rude, but may I please be alone?"

I blinked at her. "Yes, of course," I said, lifting the chair.

"I'm not upset over Anthony," she said before I walked out of the kitchen.

I paused, setting the chair down again. "Good, I am glad to hear it."

She nodded and I lifted the chair, which was heavier than I had thought it would be, preparing to walk down the hall and give her privacy.

"I wasn't expecting Mother to look so exhausted when I returned," Elizabeth blurted out.

Again I put the chair down and turned to face her. "Your mother was having a good day earlier, it seems."

Elizabeth solemnly nodded. "Sometimes she has a very difficult morning, but in the afternoon she feels better. Other times she is up in the morning and confined to bed in the afternoon and evening. And sometimes she is in bed all day. Those are the ones that have become more frequent."

I regretted that I hadn't been around frequently enough to notice the changes in Carmen's health and that I had not had a relationship with my own cousin where we could confide in one another.

"I don't want her to leave me," Elizabeth said under her breath.

I left the chair and stepped closer to her. "I don't want Carmen to leave you either."

"But I cannot be sad in front of Mother because then I will make her sad and then she will be upset with me. I don't want Mother to be upset with me."

I nodded, my heart breaking for her. "You are a very thoughtful daughter," I said. "Carmen is fortunate to have you."

"Sometimes I'm not so certain," Elizabeth said under her breath.

I regarded her for a moment and thought of what I had said to Bernard, that Elizabeth was a girl of sixteen with absolutely no hardships in her life. Seeing my niece in the kitchen, I was aware that my observation had been incorrect.

"As your uncle, I can assure you that I am never incorrect and you are an absolutely perfect and caring daughter and a mostly flawless niece, whom I adore. You are not allowed to disagree with me on this matter."

Eliza took a short gulp of air and wiped her eyes. "Uncle would you…?"

She looked at me with her soft, pleading eyes and I nodded, turning to grab the chair again.

"No, would you…would you stay? I think I've changed my mind about being alone."

"Of course," I said. "But you must be absolutely certain that you want your old, decrepit uncle to stay," I said gently.

At last she chuckled. "My apologies, but you are old."

"I will have you know I am in the prime of my life, Eliza Beth."

She rolled her eyes. "You are nineteen years older than me and most of my friends. That is almost two decades and practically forever," she said, groaning as she tossed her head back in dramatic fashion.

"Eighteen years and nine months," I corrected. "My birthday isn't until July."

"Close enough."

"I was going to offer my services as the person you could be sad in front of when the need arises, however, you and your insults have made me tremendously depressed and I'm afraid I am of no use at the moment."

Elizabeth sniffled one last time and shook her head at me. "Can we be sad together? Just for one moment?"

I nodded and held out my arms. "Come on, then, don't make me wait for your sadness, Eliza Beth. I'm too old for this waiting."

"Uncle!" she groused as I wrapped my arms around her. "You are being cantankerous."

"I'm elderly. Of course I'm being cantankerous, young lady."