Chatterton Place: The Inheritance by Patricia C Garlitz - HTML preview

CHAPTER NINETEEN DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN

The day after Thanksgiving, she started to pull the old phony tree from the box, when Mike announced there wasn't enough room there for a tree.  So they would just go without, that year.  "Besides I’ve got a lady coming in to decorate the one in the lobby, so you really don't need to do a thing.  Besides I don't think, I brought that old stuff of yours down."

"What did you do with them?"  The thought that he didn't remember what he’d done with her mother’s little village sent chills up and down her spine.

"I sent it off to good will, it was nothing but junk anyway." he finished the sentence as he slipped out the door, leaving her standing there trembling from head to toe with anger.  She’d spent weeks doing what he wanted, living in a stripped resemblance of a house.  Letting him run the Place, allowing him to tell her how she could dress, what she should cook and who she couldn't see.  Her chest heaved with anguish, for the lost items.  Item's she had adored as a child, earned the right to put together as a youth, and inherited as a young mother.  Her rage grew with each additional breath she took.

The insurance had come through with a new car for him, weeks earlier and her van sat dormant at the side of the house, but she didn't have the keys.  He had said she didn't need to go anywhere and he’d meant it. "Well I'll show him." she forced through clinched teeth. "Dad did teach me a few things." She didn't even stop to pull on her coat.  After wiring the van, she climbed in and shot off down the hill.  She slowed to an almost stop at the road that led to Jims. Then figured it wouldn't make a difference, and keep on going.

When she was drawn to a halt at the edge of town, for a stupid parade… she cursed under her breath.  Then a strange thing happened. She caught the sound of Christmas bell's tolling from the little church, and she felt drawn to them. Popping the clutch to stall out the engine she then proceeding on foot from there. Through the crowd that had gathered up the side road and down the main street searching for the sound of the bells.  Christmas carol's soon found their way into her head, and blotted out the sound of the people she pushed past.  The church lay just ahead, but so did the largest crowd of people.

Sidestepping the bodies that lay before her and it, she pressed herself to the cement front of buildings and forged on.  A small doorway, offered a brief relief from the pressure, of having to excuse herself for every step she took.  The towering white walls lay just beyond, drawing a deep breath to precede the remaining few hundred feet.  She again forged forward. Only to be pulled back from the crowd, by two very familiar arms.

When he turned her to look down into her eyes, an undeniable snarl rolled from his lips. He lifted her from her feet, to drag her back further into the darkness of the doorway.  Her body still seared with rage. "Let me go." she commanded him "Put me down." When he responded as told, she again raced for the crowd. But couldn't go any further, his touch had done it to her again, and she needed him. Turning back, she found herself pleading, "Please hold me." immediately his arms were around her, once again clutching her close to his chest.

"Please?" he bent and whispered in her ear. Turning she looked deep into his glistening blue eyes.

"Oh, PLEASE." she responded in the briefest of tones.

When he again towed her into the darkness, she followed carelessly. Pressing against his chest, the minute he stopped. Griping his shirt with both hands, she just stood there trembling in his arms.

"It's him." Jim whispered, and then had to pull her back when she jumped. "It's Ok, babe. I meant you’re mad at Mike.  You’re trembling the same way that you did that day on the college campus." Sometimes he was difficult to understand. "I don't know what you were doing there, but the minute I say those eyes filled with tears – I was ready to kill him.  You couldn't have been much over sixteen."

As strange as it sounded, she knew what he was saying. The Christmas she’d blocked from her memory, “Sixteen and a half. My Mother was scared silly."

"He was going to college, there?"

"He was in bed with Angelia." She said softly into his chest.

"Angelia?"

"She was as beautiful as her name. I’d no way of competing."

"But you won." he whispered, tracing the line of her chin with his thumb.

"After three miscarriages, he found someone who would give him a son."

"I was so tempted to follow you that day. I mean… after I helped you pick up those presents, I watched as you threw them away."

"I hate Christmas." She declared. "I hate it."

"No you don't." he responded lifting her face to look down into her eyes. "You hate…"

"I don't hate anyone." She looked away. "I just can't – Oh God I do hate him."  She buried her face into his shirt, and allowed the tears she’d been holding all day to flow freely. She stumbled through the events of the day, and then sobbed over how she’d tried to please him for the last couple of week.

"I know. I know." he uttered, cupping her face up to kiss the tears from it.  His thumbs encircled her ears as he smothered her mouth with his. His chest was throbbing as his hand slide across her shoulder and down her arm.  Then he slid it around her waist and into the small of her back, where he tugged her into his hips. When she didn't resist, he pushed his tongue into the depth of her mouth.  Then when she was willing to meet him half way, he allowed his other hand to drop to her burning breast. Where he met with rock hard nipples, he pinched between his gentle fingers.

Her breathing came in gulps, flooding the burning depths of her body throughout her limbs. Clinging to his shoulders to stand, she met his every move with a counter stroke.  Her heart was pounding so loud in her head. She didn't know how she managed to hear the approaching footsteps. Braking free from his hands, she slipped behind him to protect her identity.  Gripping his shirt, as he told the stranger that he would be there in a minute she pressed her burning lips to his flexing muscles.

When he turned to tell her he had to leave, he again scooped her up against his hips. "I'll take you back to Mom's after I flip this switch, and light the tree."

"I can't...you can't." he pressed his finger to her lips.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." he smiled the light of love across the span of the few inches they stood apart.

She did as told standing at the edge of the doorway she watched as he and several children flipped the switch, and lit the giant tree that stood in the front yard of the church.  Then the carol's rang forth from the stipples and filled the whole town, with the love the lord had brought forth over two thousand years before.

When he returned, she asked, "Will you take me home? I mean my home." she stuttered out the words, biting on her lower lip. "I promised to make it through the end of the year for the kids."

"Who – Who did you promise?" she could feel the pain in his voice.

"Me. I promised myself, the kids deserve It." she shuttered as he took hold of her arms. "I have to find the woman you deserve." she turned away from him. "I feel like I've been lost."

When he gently encircled her and pulled her back to him, she knew he understood. "You have a right to have the real me."

"I just want you – all of you." He whispered nuzzling his nose in next to her neck.

"I'm not all here. I won't be, until I can set him straight. Please understand. I need you to be strong, I live on your strength." she was once again trembling, but not because of the heat that filled her body, she was afraid he would turn away.  Turning to face him, she stroked her hands softly over his chest. "Jim, I'll go with you right now—" she’d given in.

"That son of a bitch." he pushed her away. "He's broke your spirit." he stepped towards the street. "How dare you beg me" he spun and scooped her from her feet, sweeping her back into the blackness of the doorway.  “Hit me, kick, scream " he shook her violently, by the shoulders. "Fight back."

She couldn't, she didn't have the strength to fight back.  When he stopped shaking her and let her go, she simply slumped to the cement, crying. "I need you in my corner."

"Damn it Girl, I've always been in your corner." he dropped to his knees, "But you got to fight, or he'll just keep rolling over you."  Looking up, she noticed the tears spilling across his cheeks. "You have to fight back."  

"I will, I just need to know that you’re there." she reached out and wiped, her fingers across his face.

"I'm here." he answered, “I'll always be here."

Mike hadn't even missed her, although the kids knew she was gone. She was stampeded at the door with hugs and kisses, and a couple of very frightened girls.

"Mom, we thought you weren't coming back." Crystal cried throwing her arm around her neck. 

“Dad's been such a beast.  We wouldn't blame you, but we were afraid you'd left us." Shelly finished her sister’s statement.

"Wait a minute," she pushed their hand from her body "Are you telling me, that you don't think I should’ve done all the things he wanted?"

"Mom, no man treats his wife that way." Crystal answered, "Todd says—"

"You have to stand up to him." Shelly cut her off. "How can he respect you if you don't respect yourself?"

 She blinked in amazement, was this really her two little girls, telling her the same things she’d told them. "I'll never go anyplace that you don't know where I'm at. But—″ she wondered if she should let her plans out of the bag. “I'm not going to stay here in this house, any longer."  When their eyes popped out of their heads, she rephrased the statement. "I mean, I'm going back to work." It would hurt them to see their parents split up, even if they saw their father for what he was.

The next morning she hotwired the Van again, and meet Jim at the back door dressed to go to work, when he picked up the empty milk containers.  She may have been willing to work in the basement for the time being, but she wasn't about to take any guff from Mike.  When he realized she was there, and came looking to find out why.

"This is my place, and you’re only in charge of the hotel side of it.  Now if there are any other questions, I'd ask that you knock, but as you can see I still don't have a door."  That had been a bone of contention since she took her office to the basement.  Every time she mentioned the door, he would tell her she didn't need one.

"What in the hell has come over you.  I ask you a simple question and you jump down my throat." he backed away from her.

"You know what happens when, a pinned lion gets loose?" she waited for a response but there wasn't one. "I'm going back to work and there's nothing that you can do about it."

"Em, shit. I never said you couldn't work.  You can do whatever you want."

"Oh, I see.  So does that mean I can have the keys to my Van, so I can stop hot wiring it?"

"Emma, you can't do that, it has a computer chip." he exclaimed putting her down again.

"If you didn't want me damaging the Damn thing, you should’ve given me my keys weeks ago." she shot right back, he wasn't going to make her feel guilty.

"Why didn't you ask for them?"

"Because it's mine, why should I have to beg for anything?"

"You’re twisting this, who have you been talking to."

"Don't you think I have a brain of my own?"

"I'm not going to talk to you when you’re like this." he turned to leave.

"Did I say you could leave?" she was feeling the weight of her position. He spun with a shocked look on his face. "I want all the current reports on the reservations, payrolls, occupancy, and a breakdown of the food and beverage costs."

"Yes sir." he responded with a salute, as he shuffled up the steps.

A full minute passed before Beth was there throwing her arms around her neck. "Your back"

That seemed the consensus, of all she encountered that day.  Matter of fact if she hadn't come to her senses then, the Dickens Festival would’ve gone down the tubes.  Mike really had no idea that it had been planned for over two months.  He’d ordered a half a million little lights, and just ordered Kit to have them installed by the first week of December, when she stepped in and ask if it was part of the Dickens Scene.  Kit just shook his head no, but Mike lost his cool.

"Just because your back now, how and the hell do you think you are you going to pull off something like that, in less than a week."

"I'm not.  The whole place has been planning for it for months, and tonight it all comes together, with the first of the hayrides. So if you'd like to join us, I'm sure you’re more than welcome."

"And just who do you think will be watching after all your guest's while you’re out riding around in a hay stack."

"The people I pay to watch over them. But you’re a night auditor, so that doesn't include you." She drew blood with that statement, and the pain was evident in the way he backed down from her immediately.  She couldn't stand the hurt she experienced, as he left her and Kit standing there.

"He's been asking for it." Kit uttered as he stepped to the back door.

"Kit" she wanted his blessing, but he wasn't ready to offer it yet.

"But He's still your husband … isn't he?"

"I'll talk to him." she’d been put in her place.

Humbly, she knocked at his office and when he finally responded, she stepped in to find him shuffling papers about his desk.

"I'm sorry," it took every ounce of guts she had to open herself up to his rage.

"No, I'm sorry." He said looking down at the desk. He went on with a shaky voice.  "I just thought that if I locked you up. I could keep you."

"You forced my hand. How did you think I'd act when you told me about mom's village?" He didn't respond, so she left it at that.  She'd said she was sorry, for belittling him in front of his son. That was the only thing they had to discuss right then.

Eighteenth century garb was handed out before dark, and when the busses rolled in that night, they were met by a full English village, right down to the tall smoke pipe hats and barmaids waiting tables.

There had been a rush to finish the decorating of the big house, but with everyone pulling together it came off, with minutes to spare. The other house's had been decorated a day or two earlier.

After dinner not only was there a hayride offered to the visitors, but Kit had also dressed up the pond for ice skater's as well.  The buggies with the fringe on top had been converted into rather handsome sleighs. Carolers were position at every front door, and their harmonious expressions rose about the valley in unison.  Where the kids had positioned the bell to toll, every hour on the hour, keep her wondering throughout the night.  As she wondered about the pond, dressed in not only her fancy dress but also a full-length coat of velvet and fur, with her hair neatly tucked up, under a stylish hat with a feather dress, she was taken aback by the similar scene that had developed on the frozen pond.  Not that there were two men struggling over a single girl, but the way the couple's clutched so closely to each other.

She hadn't expected the season to become so hectic, had she really complained about not attending parties.  Everyone offered one that year and of course, the newest occupants were expected to attend as a couple, but Mike worked his magic and managed to get out of everyone, except the one the city leaders threw.  He’d been asked to join the FOE, so that was the one he decided they would make their appearance at, even though it was held Christmas eve and the drive back up the canyon was going to be icy.

He had even gone out and bought her a special dress.  She wouldn't have chosen it, but she was still trying to pretend theirs was a real marriage, so she felt obligated to wear it.  She had no objection to the emerald color, or the full skirt that fell below her knees, but the strap less tight fitting bodes made her feel self-conscience about her muscular arms.    

When Mike chose a table close to the far wall, and then snuggled her in next to it she wondered what she’d even worried about.  Drinks were being passed around as if they were water, and everyone seemed to be indulging.  Everyone except her she hadn't been much on drinking, since she’d gotten tipsy at her bosses wedding a few years back.

Jim was there but he kept his distance, not that she thought Mike would’ve even noticed him after the first hour.  The large band drowned out almost everything, said at the table. Not that she was really listening. She spent most of the night staring at her hands.

When rocking around the Christmas tree started to play, she lifted her head and longed to dance, but by then Mike would’ve been doing good to stand. Searching about the room, her eyes finally fell on Jim speaking to someone at the bar. A minute later, he asked her to dance.  When Mike responded, "Emma doesn't dance." there fell a hush on the room.

Not removing his eyes from her Jim said, "I asked her." With that, he reached behind Mike to take her hand.  She didn’t bother to ask Mike for his approval, before she stood and joined Jim on the dance floor.  The band stopped and announced that the pros have just taken the floor, so everyone thinking about winning this contest had better think twice.

If they hadn't made such a fuss about it, Mike may have not lost his cool. However, as Jim whirled her about the floor, his glare grew colder and colder.  When Jim didn't return her to her seat after the first dance, she didn't even give it a second thought. Then the contest was announced and he held her, not allowing her to take a seat next to what appeared to be a steaming Mike. 

His warm smile made everything all right. As he back stepped her to the two steps, then there were a couple more turns and he dipped her so low she could see the ceiling, framing his hat as he bent to kiss her in front of everyone.  Lifting her back to her feet, she shot him a look of disappointment, and he pointed up to where a bow of mistletoe hung.  The crowd was a cheer of laughter and Mike a ghostly white, even for his normally pale color.

He twirled her a couple times more to the stage where he hoisted the large cup above his head and the crowd again shouted out cheers, indicating it was theirs.  He then wrapped her arm around his and escorted her back to the table, where she slide in behind Mike and he then turned a chair around squatting on it to stare into Mike's red face to say, "I like to dance with those women that don't dance."

She just knew Mike was going to blow. But before he had a chance, Todd had a hold of her hand saying, "This is more my style" pulling her towards the dance floor.  When she couldn't concentrate on the music, Todd took hold of her head and forced her to look at him.

"They'll work it out, but now I understand how they both can see a different woman in that body."

"Do you still think I'm schizophrenic?”

"Goodness no," he chuckled "It's all wrapped in together, in the most beautiful body I've ever seen." He looked as if he was about to put an exception to that, but a hand on his shoulder cut him off.

"I agree, son." It was Mr. Harris.  Had he said son, she wondered?  Yes, he meant it.  She could see the distant resemblance.  They both boasted of the same black eyes and wavy black hair.  She had to admit that since, Mr. Harris had removed his mustache.  His face was more pleasing to the eye.

"Dad" Todd didn't sound too thrilled to be relinquishing her hand. "Her husband might not agree." he looked desperately over his shoulder, for help.

"He's too busy letting Jimbo know whose wife she is." he said sweeping her hand from Todd's.

"Wait," she started to protest. However, when he stopped immediately and looked at her, as if she had a right to speak up. She simply smiled and said."Its okay, Todd, the next dance is yours."

"Changing your opinion of me are you?"

"You can't always believe everything you hear about a person, in a small town." she replied but kept a healthy distance anyway. 

"I knew you were a person to judge a soul yourself. You've always been that way." he responded twirling her out for another turn.

"Have we met before?"

Wetting his lips, he chuckled and started to say, "You don't mean—”

Jim's strong arm cut him off, gently slipping her out from under his arm. "Emma, I hate to interrupt you but Mike really should get home. I think he's had a bit too much to drink."

Instantly, her attention was directed to where Mike stood next to the door.  Jim escorted her back to his side, and then assisted her in getting him in the car. Opening her door for her, he squeezed her hand and whispered "Drive carefully." his eyes said something else, so she pulled him back when he turned to walk away. "It'll be alright, I promise."

If more than words had been exchanged, she’d have to wait to ask someone who wasn't entrenched in Mr. Harris's eyes, at the time. Mike was too far out of it to answer any of her questions, although he did manage to assist her quite well, in getting into the house. But when he toppled to the bed, she thought he was out.  Right up until he yanked her to his side the minute she tried to loosen his shirt.

Thirty minutes later, as she clutched the pillow to her burning chest, staring down at her shredded emerald dress on the floor. She knew she’d driven him to that, by allowing Jim to flirt the way she had. Pushing his weighty body from her legs, she slipped from beneath him – and free from his pain full lovemaking. She'd thought she could overpower him at first, but the alcohol, had not only given him extra strength, it had given him the ability to force himself on her without thinking what the consequences would be.

Not expecting to spend the night there, she’d nothing to cover her battered body.  Searching through his dresser, she discovered her old reliable, wadded up in the top drawer.  Despite its tattered appearance, it covered what needed to be covered.  Mainly the bruises that were already starting to appear on her tender breasts.  Once covered, the thought of having to crawl back in that bed with him, brought a bitter taste to her mouth. Lucky for her, Christmas had fallen on Monday that year. The house was empty, except for the unconscious body lying before her.

Perhaps a smoke, she thought, would help her pull herself together. Then she would find another bed, where she could lay her aching body down.  Beth always had her smokes above the refrigerator, even though there was no smoking in the house, so it was to the kitchen she headed.

She had just started to run her fingers along the ledge, when she heard someone in the front of the house.  Fearful it was Mike looking for another round, she approached the bedroom with caution. Silently peeking around the doorframe, she was shocked to see him spread eagle across the bed; because she could still hear the strange sounds emanating from the living room.

Waking him wouldn't have been her first choice for security, but he was the only one around. Bouncing on the edge of the bed, she shook his masculine shoulders firmly enough to wake him.  A minute later he had her pinned to the bed once more clawing at her clothing, mumbling with a thick tongue. "I knew you would remember the better times."

"No – Mike" she tried to push his hands away, "No – There’s someone in the living room."

He responded but only to her pleas of No. Rolling to his side, he glared at her through his blood shot eyes "He's probably looking for you. Go to him, go ahead go." he pushed her with such force that she nearly toppled off the bed. "Get out of here." he went on to command her, turning to face the wall.

She reacted more to his command then her curiosity of who was in the living room, leaving the door open behind her, just in case she was right about the sound.  Tiptoeing across the hall, she felt her way to the front hall. Quietly she felt her way towards the French doors.

The room remained the same. Time wasn't playing tricks on her.  She could hear the pounding of her own heart, throbbing in her head.  She held back every breath, exhaling slowly, so not to make any more noise then she already had. The doors appeared to be locked, the latch securely twisted to the right, but she didn't cross the open space between the end of the hall and them to make sure.

The sounds had stopped. The house breathed with her every breath.  Low moans could be heard up stairs, from the wood expanding and contracting to the differing temperatures outside.  Off to her right she could hear the sound of the bushes rustling against the house.  Inside the sitting room, that had been converted for the season, into a Santa's workshop, the grandfather clock, clicked a rhythm similar to her heart.

Her breathing slowed and she eventually rolled to look into the shadowy lit room. There was not a thing out of place.  The twelve-foot tree stood smack dab, in the middle of the three windows.  Glistening as it had for weeks, with silver and gold bows and candle looking lights. Both high backed chairs facing her were empty.  Even the highly polished desk in the corner, used to hold the sign in book, was undisturbed.

With a sigh of relief, she strolled into the room fully exposed.  She started to think she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, until she spied the solitary gift beneath the tree. They had chosen to leave that space empty, because they couldn't find wrapping paper to fit the period.  The box neatly snuggled beneath the lower boughs, looked so naturally that she wondered if someone had added it for an effect.

She lowered herself to her knees and debated pulling the box from its hiding spot.  While she was sure she'd find the box empty, there was always that chance that it could hold something she really didn't want to see. 

It wasn't a box wrapped in paper, although it was a box, but the pattern was printed right on the box itself with a removable lid, similar to a hatbox she had seen in the vision, but square.  The lid was held in place with a satin ribbon, tied with a floppy crimson bow at the top.  A small paper tag, held in place with a gold string displayed a name, but she couldn't read it from where she’d knelt.

"Don't tell me that you don't know who it's from." Mike harsh voice sent her cringing to kiss her knees.

"Em," he dropped to his knees at her side, wrapping her into his arms. "I shouldn't have." He pressed his lips to her head “I knew better then to think, that would bring you back to me." When she didn't push him away, he went on to stroke her hair down her back.  "God how you must hate me"

"You scared me." she managed to force through her trembling lips. "Look" she pointed to the box.

"Yeah." he responded standing up "you’re a good actress.  You can't tell me that it's not from him."

"I don't know who it's from." she shot back, straightening herself to rest against her feet. "And for that matter, I don't know who it's for either.  If you’re so certain it's for me and not a bomb, you pick it up." The look in his face, took on a different twist. "After all you’re the one who's always saying this place is going to kill me."

"I do not." he responded dropping to his knees, "I said it was going to take you away from me." he paused looking at the box, then asked "What makes you think it's a bomb." The amazement that filled her face spoke for itself. "Damn it Em. Just because I don't like what you say, doesn't mean I haven't learned to listen."

She had to rethink, the way she’d been looking at him.  Had he really been listening to her all the time?  If so, why hadn't he believed her when she said the Place would be a big success.  "Why wouldn't you move down here then?"

"I told you, this place will take you away from me."

"You mean Jim will." his face showed the pain, "But he's not, you’re driving me."

"Stop it." he screeched, reaching for the box. "It's going to happen and that's all I know."

"What's going to happen?" but her words were ignored.  He’d pulled the box from its hiding spot and was dropping it in front of her.

"See, it's to you, any more questions."

The tag indeed had her name scratched across it, along with the date 1914, the year before her father was born.  Scrambling backwards, she screeched "its grandma’s"

"What?" he asked moving with her. "What do you mean it's your Grandma's...she's dead."

When their eyes meet, she recognized the fear she was feeling.  Should she tell him about the other times, would he listen?  "I know, but that's to her not me. Look at the date. It's the year she was driven off the ranch." He looked down at her with little recognition of what she was saying. 

"What do you mean driven off the ranch?"

"Mike I can't explain it right now, just trust me. That was meant for my grandmother.  Jim—"

"Jim would understand everything." He shouted at her again, she’d chosen the wrong thing to say. "Wouldn't he?" he jumped back to the box and ripped the ribbon from it, the same way he’d undressed her.  The ribbon free, he quickly tugged the lid from it place, allowing the contents to be seen.  A very large flour canister, minus its lid, filled the entire box.  Inside it another canister could be seen, lid intact.  The rose pattern was apparent even from where she sat.  "Shit," he exclaimed pulling back, "It matches the china."

"I told you, it was meant for Grandma." she slipped a bit closer, to get a better look. "It's the missing canisters."

That he understood, or had already recognized, before she uttered the words.

"So what are they doing here?" he crawled to her side, looking longingly into her eyes for an answer.

"I don't know." she responded shaking her head. "Who put the box there?"

He rattled his head in response. "It’s beautiful though." he reached to touch the hand painted items.

"No," she slapped away his hand "We could—"