False Southern Gentility

Elizabeth walked through the small parlor door. "Daddy," Elizabeth said in her quiet, eight year old voice. "are you in here?" she called to the darkness. A shadow moved and Elizabeth held her breath.

"Yes, yes I'm in here." Christopher said in a gruff voice as he turned around. For the past five years, Christopher had mourned his wife, his love. She had left him, left him with nothing but her last words and an old locket that he now kept either in his hand or around is neck.

"I'm...I'm going to take Claudia to Aunt Mary's." Elizabeth said as the now Five year old Claudia came around the corner, her small blue bonnet perched gently atop her head, the red plume matched her eyes.

"Yes, you girls go to Mary's...go to Mary's." Christopher said dully as he lifted the small crystal Brandy glass off of the table and gulped the bitter liquid within.

"Al...alright." Elizabeth said as she tried to tug her small sister away from the door; Claudia ran inside, standing tall in-front of her father.

"Daddy," Claudia said, her voice strict as she stomped her small foot. Christopher looked up at her with bloodshot eyes; Claudia did not flinch. "tell me that you love me." she said, her little girl concentration breaking at the thought that her father didn't want her.

Christopher swallowed as he looked into the Burgundy eyes that he knew so well. "Claudia, go with your sister." he said as he turned away from her.

Forget, his mind screamed, forget her, she's gone, I know she's gone, you just have to remember that, she's gone and no one else is going to take her place, don't shun the rest away. "Claudia," he said as he turned back around, ready to take his daughter into his arms. It was to late.

"Christopher Rudd!" Mary exclaimed as she came into the front door and shed her wool wrap. "Christopher, where in the world are you at?" she asked as she walked in and out of rooms.

Mary stopped, staring at the the thick black door, the one door of the house that hadn't been touched since Christine had last stepped foot behind it. Mary swallowed and twisted the knob.

As Mary stepped inside, she automatically felt her sisters presence. "Oh Christine." Mary said as she tiptoed into the room and closed the door.

Christine's rouge lay open on the dresser, waiting for her as if she hadn't intended not to use it in the next few hours or even the next few days. Her blankets were rumpled and on the pillow sat a few of Christine's curly black hairs.

"What are you doing in here?" a voice asked from what had been Christine's closet. "Don't, please, don't touch those." Christopher said as he stepped out of the closet, one of Christine's old nightgowns in his hand.

"Christopher--" Mary started as Christopher held up a hand for silence.

"You know, she was going to wear her new bright pink dress the night she died. We were going to take Elizabeth to little Jameson Romanesque's birthday party...she wasn't supposed to leave me...she wasn't supposed to leave me alone." Christopher said as he looked across the bedroom to what had once been Christine's bed.

"Christopher...do you know what was the last thing that I said to Christine was?" Mary asked as she calmly approached Christopher, her hands held at her sides. He shook his head as he sat down on her dressing stool. "I told my sister, that she had coveted my husband before he had died, and that she was nothing to me...nothing besides a glorified hussy you excused her actions by slipping on a wedding ring."

Christopher ran a hand over Christine's powder brush. "How am I supposed to love the little girl that took away my Christine? How do I look Claudia in the eye every morning, look into those little red brown eyes, and tell her I love her, kiss her on the head goodnight? I don't know how to love anything...I just don't."

Mary smoothed out the blanket on the bed. "Here, help me." Mary said as she adjusted Christine's pillows and stretched up the blankets, smoothing them wrinkle-less with the palm of her hand.

"What are you doing?" Christopher asked as he stood and watched Mary walk around the room, running a rag over the things that had dust clinging to them, rubbing the mirror clean so that her reflection gleamed bright.

When Mary reached for the lid of the rouge, Christopher pushed her hands back. "No, you leave those, don't touch those." he said as he fingered the small powder-puff.

Mary nodded understandingly.

"We'll leave those...but the rest of these need to go...we can turn Christine's room into an art room...we can teach the girls to play the violin...I'm sure that with those small hands like Christine's...I'm sure that she would either be good at playing the flute or the piano." Mary said quietly.

"I--" this time Mary held up a hand for silence. Christopher stood perfectly still, listening to what Mary had to say. She and her sister were so different. Mary suggested things, Christine demanded, Christine forced what she wanted. Mary asked in a quiet way.

"You've got to let her go, Christopher. You can't hold onto Christine for forever...these things," Mary said as she lifted what had been Christine's favorite pair of earrings into the palm of her hand. "these things are just pieces, they're not Christine. This bed," she said as she flung her hand towards the high poster bed that Christine and Christopher had spent so many many nights of wonderful love in.

"These things aren't Christine! These earrings, those pantaloons, the blankets, the rouge! None of it is Christine! You can't recreate her, Christopher, haven't you learned that yet? There isn't a way to bring her back! You've held onto her for so many years...instead of holding on...just remember."

Christopher looked at Mary, and for once in all of the five years that Christine had been dead, he actually saw Mary for who she was. She wasn't just the figure of Christine, she wasn't just the hair of Christine...she was a person. A person with a mind and body of her own. Christopher reached over and lifted the powder-puff and sat it back in it's case; Mary walked forward.

She lifted the rouge top, and twisted it back onto it's dried contents. "She always said that rouge was such a waste. I remember growing up...mother always said--" Christopher shook his head.

"I can't leave her alone like that...I can't not love her, it's impossible...she left me and I can't not love her anymore...it doesn't work like that." Christopher said in a quiet voice.

Mary touched his shoulder with a light hand. "You don't have to stop loving her, Christopher, you just have to let her go." Mary said as she kissed his forehead gently. "You've just got to let her go."

"I can't..." he mumbled quietly. How could he let her go? How had he managed to survive without her for five years...he wouldn't exist if he actually had to let her rest in peace. That may be selfish, he thought to himself as Mary walked out of the room to go and see if she could catch the children before they made it to her house, but how am I supposed to let her rest in peace when I can't live in peace.

"I've really mucked things up this time, haven't I, Christine?" he asked the stale air around him as he had done so many times before.

"Christopher," her voice called behind him; Christopher did not move. "You can't hide for the rest of your days. I left...no, no I didn't want to, but you can't stop living because of me, you aren't the one who died." Christopher drew in a sharp breath as what felt like an airy hand touched his shoulder. "Give our children what I can't anymore...give them what I can't..." Christine's voice faded away as Claudia entered into what was usually the locked room.

"Daddy," Claudia whispered in a quiet voice as she stared at her starry eyed father. "is...it it okay?" she asked with a quiet tiptoe towards the bed and then stopped.

Christopher cleared his throat. "It's alright angel, it's alright. Come here to daddy." Christopher said as he moved over on the wide bench that Christine had once sat on. Claudia walked quietly to her father but kept her her eyes low.

The three year old swallowed in answer. She looked from side to side, observing how pretty and bright the room was.

Why aren't I allowed to come in here, her little mind thought, it's very pretty and so clean with all of the white and pink and even soft carpets.

"You and I need to have a..." he thought about the words Christine would have used. "a heart to heart, a sit down, just you and I." Christopher said with a smile as he beckoned to the little girl.

Claudia walked quietly and stared at the man that had been her father. She had never known much about her father, besides the fact that he didn't seem to like her very much. He would scowl whenever he saw her look up from the floor, and would scream if she said anything that displeased him.

"Claudia no want to tawk." Claudia said as she looked at the bed, her red brown eyes tearing up as she looked around. "Claudia awone...Claudia afwaid to be awone." Christopher's breath caught in his throat.

Christine had said that exact same words to him...

"You're not alone, Claudia. I wouldn't allow my little girl to be alone...your daddy understands that he had made some mistakes...but you know that I..." he swallowed the lump in his throat. "you know that I love you, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"No." Claudia said very firmly. "You no like Claudia, and even when Claudia is good, you yell at her." Claudia said, her small voice fading towards the end of her sentence.

Christopher swallowed as he looked at the ground. Whoever said that children didn't know more than adults was a flat out liar. Claudia noticed it more than he did...but then again wouldn't anyone notice more than others if they were the ones being shunned?

"May Claudia go now?" Claudia asked as she raised her tiny stern shoulders and looked at her stunned older sister looking inside of the room that even she hadn't entered in since she was a little girl...well, littler than she was now. "'Lizabeth." Claudia cried as she ran into her sisters open embrace.

"You go and play, Claudia, you may play with my teddy-bear if you like." Elizabeth said as she hugged her little sister in a tight grasp and then only spoke after her sister was clean out of sight. "You haven't been there for either of us...Aunt Mary is our mother, we have no father. If you have wanted us, then she should have decided that years ago. You haven't done your job...and now...we don't belong to you." Elizabeth's eight year old voice was strong and determined.

Christopher shook his head. "Do you remember your mother, Elizabeth? Do you remember her at all?" Elizabeth's pained expression answered his question. "Look here," he said as he pointed to the painting across the room, "this was your mother." Elizabeth gasped at the tall woman in the painting.

"Her eyes look like Claudia's." Elizabeth said as she stepped into the room and then stepped back out.

"No, no, please, come here with me. Sit with me a while." Christopher said as he motioned for his oldest daughter to come to him; Elizabeth obeyed. "Do you remember the first time you met me?" he asked her. Elizabeth nodded.

"There was a very loud train, and my old Governess, she spoke..." her voice trailed off as she looked at the ceiling. "Look daddy," Elizabeth exclaimed as she pointed to the high-rise ceiling. "it's angels!"

Christopher felt his eyes beginning to sting with the beginnings of tears. "Yes, your mama loves--" he stopped and closed his eyes, "loved angels. You know, you and your sister mean very very much to me...I just haven't known what to do for all of these years."

Elizabeth looked back down, the excited light fading out of her eyes. "You don't love us...you loved mommy, Claudia and I don't mean anything to you...we are just trinkets, something to make people like you."

She sounded so much like her mother...so very much like her mother. As Christopher thought back, he could briefly remember Christine saying something about him only marrying her for...what had it been? He couldn't put his finger on it, but he did remember that his response had been cocky and that he had seen the sting in her eyes.

"You honestly don't think that I love you? Not at all? You know..." Christopher swallowed, "your mama was just like that...neither of us noticed that it was there until it was to late...then we understood."

Elizabeth swallowed as she looked around the room. She walked to the bed and touched the bed. "Was she here?" she asked quietly. Christopher nodded as Elizabeth rubbed away a tear from her eye. "Why can't I remember her, it isn't fair!? I want my mother, she shouldn't have left me!" she cried as she sat down on the floor and brought her knees to her chest.

Christopher stood and walked to her, lifted her into his arms, and sat down on the strangely warm mattress. "It's alright..." he whispered as she cried quietly on his chest. "it's alright."

"No, it's not alright!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she drew back from her father's chest. "She shouldn't have left! God is cruel! So very cruel!" Elizabeth screamed. Mary walked into the room and held out her arms for the little girl who has had to grow up far to soon.

Christopher did not know what to say.

"There there, my angel. There there." Mary said as she smoothed Elizabeth's hair. "God isn't cruel, darling. God knows what it is that makes us strong, but God also never puts to many things on us...he'll never break us."

Christopher could not stifle his laugh. The sound came so new and confounded that he, Mary, and little Elizabeth stood for a moment, lying within the sound. Christopher spoke. "God can be cruel, Elizabeth, I should know." Christopher held up a hand for silence from Mary. "Your mother hadn't wanted to go, she wouldn't have ever chosen to leave you and your sister, she would have given up the world and the next world over, if only to have been here this day."

Elizabeth smiled as she walked to her father and hugged onto his waist. "My mother loved you too, but you can't live with her...if Aunt Mary, Claudia, and I can forgive her for leaving," Christopher bent and Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder. He couldn't help remember how Christine's head had fit into the eve of his neck, just like Elizabeth's did today. Elizabeth whispered in his ear. "If we can forgive her...you can too."

Christopher felt weak tears slipped down his face, weak tears that stripped him down to the very soul. He nodded as he felt a light hand on his shoulder, he knew this hand was not Christine's, this hand belonged to the living, this hand would be the hand to take him back to the living also.

"There now," Christopher said as he raised his head and touched Elizabeth's cheek. "run get your sister, bring her here. I will tell you both of your mother and I...the way that we were...and would be today." Elizabeth smiled at this news and ran from the room.

Mary said nothing but brought him close to her in a tight embrace. "She would want you to love, Christopher, you understand that, don't you." what she asked was not meant to be a question and Christopher did not take it as suck. Mary smiled as she kissed his tear-stained cheek.

As the girls walked back in the room, Christopher could see that they seemed to be uncomfortable. "Come girls," Christopher said as he sat down on the pink and brown carpet that covered what had been Christine's favorite room of the house.

Oh, how she loved this room, Christoper thought to himself, and now our girls will get to love this room as much...maybe even more than she did. She left...but she left behind a piece of herself...no, she had left behind two piece of heaven, she had left for heaven and sent back two pieces for him.

"Now then," Christopher started, "where do I begin?" he asked as he looked up at Mary. He smiled as she adjusted her bustles around her hips and sat down on the floor in such a great plop, that both Christopher and the girls laughed. And Mary laughed too.

"I'll begin." Mary said as she leaned forward and propped up her head with the palm of her hand. "Oh yes," Mary said as she touched a memories that had stayed quiet in the corners of her mind. "now I know where." Mary smiled as she began reciting she and her sisters story.