Christine awoke at the sound of the town clock striking eight. She turned her head to look for James and saw that he was asleep. She quickly got dressed, walked downstairs to the front door and stood there, waiting for a knock. When she heard one, she opened the door immediately and brightened as a young man handed her a letter.

“Thank you so much,” she smiled and started to close the door.

The boy stuck his foot in the way and held out his hand.

“Oh!” she said, “Yes, of course! One moment please”

Christine ran upstairs to James’ armoire, digging into his coat pockets. She took out five pounds and ran back to the door, giving it to the boy.

He gave her a gappy grin before running back to the town.

Christine looked at the letter as she went back upstairs and into her room. James was awake when she came in.

“What’s that?” he asked as he sat up

“A boy just brought it,” she said and scurried to the balcony on the other side of the room.

James raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“It’s not another letter, is it?” he changed his mind, “the last one was here a few days ago”

Christine quickly stood from the bench she was sitting on outside, “what do you mean?”

“A letter was here yesterday,” he said, “it came when you were at the women's poetry meeting. I thought it was the wrong address so I sent it back-”

“You did what?” she turned to him, “those are my letters…from Thomas!”

James shrunk down slightly.

“I didn’t know,” he said, “I’m sorry….really I am”

Christine was surprised at his apology. She turned back to her letter.

“Don’t tell me I could have told you,” she said.

James started to speak, but Christine interrupted, “I already know I should have”

**************************************************************************

“We don’t need a maid,” James was sitting on the sofa

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“I know,” Christine was drinking tea and writing poetry at a desk near him, “we won’t be making her do anything really, she’s just been with me my whole life…..it would feel like a piece of home to me”

“I suppose it’s alright,” he said, “as long as we don’t have to pay her”

Christine frowned but didn’t say a word. There was a knock and James went to answer the door. The same boy from the other day handed him a letter, sealed with his family’s crest. He reached into his pocket but couldn’t find the five pounds he was fishing for.

“Just one moment please,” he turned to go back to the room

Christine avoided eye contact and continued her poetry. Glancing out the door, she saw that the envelope of the mail was black. James returned and paid the boy. He paced as he opened the envelope but stopped when he read it. Christine wondered if other families associated colors with events like hers did when sending messages. She walked over and stood behind him, gently putting her hand on his shoulder.

“What does it say?” She asked, fearing the worst.

James didn’t answer, he only tucked the letter into his inside coat pocket and got his hat off of the stand by the door.

“James?” she asked, “where are you going?”

She watched motionlessly as he left the house. Confused and upset, Christine went to get her cloak. Then she thought otherwise….there must be a reason he didn’t say anything. So she did nothing. She only waited and sat on her bed, thinking of how to confront him when he came back. After an anxious hour, he returned, coat over his arm and hat in his hand. His face was expressionless. It remained that way when he walked into the bedroom.

“Where have you been?” Chrstine hadn’t realized how worried she was, “I’ve wondered all this time. How can you tell me to trust you when you won’t even tell me where you are going?”

Only after she’d said that did she look at his face.

“James,” she walked closer to him, “what happened?”

James slowly walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

“My father,” he said, “....he’s dead”

Christine’s heart skipped in shock.

“What?” she spoke softly, “how could this happen?”

He collapsed into her lap, completely still but loudly crying. Christine tried not to show her surprise, keeping a steady breath and a hand over his back. She easily took the letter from his hands and read it. She set it onto the bed behind them and didn’t say anything for a while. She kept her hands still, trying to remain a rooted help for him. Christine had never seen him cry like this before, even as a boy he would hide every inch of his emotions until the doors were closed. That was part of the reason Christine never believed any of the funny or shocking stories Thomas told about James’ personality.

“He had a heart attack,” James whispered suddenly, “I almost arrived too late…he died minutes after I….I promised him,” James put his head in his hands

“What did you promise him?” Christine asked gently as she moved her hands to his head and his hand

She wasn’t sure but she thought he had stopped crying.

“He begged me to promise him….that his grandchildren would know his story”

Christine didn’t know what to say. She held back from saying “they will” or “I’m sorry” or “We will tell it somehow”….nothing felt right. She closed her eyes and took a deep breathe, hoping he would follow. He did, and he slowly sat up, keeping her hand in his.

Chrisine turned her face away from him and tried to return her mind to the letter.

“You could have told me before you left….I would have come with you”

“I know,” he whispered, “I should have…..you deserved to see him again and……you would have kept me strong”

“You are strong,” Christine squeezed his hand, “too much so for your own good…..you needed this cry”

No….I just needed you