False Southern Gentility

Christopher knocked on Claudia's door quietly. "Claudia," Christopher said as he knocked on the door again, harder this time. "Claudia, may I come in?" he asked, and then he stopped.

Why in Hell was he asking to enter into a room of a house that he owned? But still, he knocked again and asked the same question.

"I'm busy." Claudia responded, her voice icy and carefully chilled. Christopher knocked again and this time small and irritated footsteps pounded towards the door. "What do you want?" she asked as she slung the door open.

"Just to talk to you. That's all." he said with one of his old dashing smiles and held up his hands in submission. "I, General Lee, have sounded the surrender." he said as Claudia's smile started to break through.

"Would you do me a favor?" she asked as she walked over to her small vanity and lifted a brush to her hair. "I can't reach the tangles in the back...would you brush them out for me?"

Christopher smiled as he walked into the room and took the brush from her hand. "You know," he started as he ran the horse-hair brush through the mass of black curls that fell over her back. "I used to brush your mama's hair when she would unpin it after a party or after she had been out in the garden."

Claudia turned her head to one side and bit into her lip. "I still can't remember her, you know?" she asked as she shook her hair and moved a few curls back into place.

Christopher nodded slowly. "You won't ever remember her." he said.

Claudia's hurt expression tore into his very soul, but she would have to know sooner or later. And sooner was always less messy and easier than later.

"What do you mean I won't ever remember her? Elizabeth remembers her just fine, so that means I'll be able to remember her one day too." Claudia said as she turned and yanked the hairbrush from Christopher's hand.

He wanted to cry out to her, to let her...no, to make her understand. "Your mother died when you were born. You will never have the memories of playing in the yard, of laughing at the dinner table, none of those will ever belong to you."

Claudia shook her head in anger. "Yes, yes they will! You're lying to me! I know you are, that's all you ever do! Lie, Lie, Lie!!" she screamed as she ran to him and pounded on his chest.

Christopher absorbed the blows and brought her close to his chest. "I know, I know." he said as her tears wet his shirt bosom.

Claudia drew back and wiped her eight-year-old face with her sleeve. "Go away." she said as she walked into her closet and slammed the door.

Christopher sighed as he walked to her door and touched the cold wood. He couldn't believe that he had ever said that...how could he honestly help her to know...to know who and what her mother had been?

Mary knocked on the door-frame lightly. "May I come in?" she asked quietly.

Christopher observed the way she swallowed, the way her throat moved.

"Of course, why should I object?" he asked in the utmost sarcastic way he could. She was just so damned polite! Always asking before doing, always quiet and calm, never a word to say for herself. Where was her spirit?

He shook his head lightly. He shouldn't be asking himself these kinds of questions. They were never going to have the answer that he wanted. He didn't want Mary. He wanted Christine. He couldn't stop comparing the two of them together. There was some over-bearing power to put two and two together!

"I...I shouldn't know why. I just didn't know if you and Claudia were speaking privately...that's all." Mary said as she adjusted her dress and smoothed out her hair.

"I'm sorry." Christopher finally said as he walked to her and embraced her. "I shouldn't have been so stark with my words. I know that you meant well." he said as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

Mary shook her head. "Everything I do displeases you. Everything that I try to do...I fail at. I try to please you, I fail at that, I try to make Claudia happy, treat her as my own, and look at this." she said as she gestured towards the closed closet door. "Even she hates me. Elizabeth is the only one that's even partially happy with me...and now she's all that I have left."

Christopher could make no response to that comment. Had she ever really had him? He hadn't exactly wanted her. He didn't really want her now, but he had her. Until death do them part... He stopped his thoughts quickly. He would never wish death on Mary...no, she wasn't Christine...but no one could be Christine. He knew that.

"Elizabeth isn't all that you have left," he said with a smile as he pushed the worse of his thoughts back where they always resided. "you have me. Don't you?" he asked as he kissed her cheek with a false smile.

"Yes," Mary said in a drudging voice. "I suppose I do." she said as she unwrapped his hands from around her waist. "You know, it is very late tonight." she said with a shy smile. "It's almost nine, won't you be coming to bed?" she asked quietly.

Christopher could not read the look in Mary's eyes, it was so unfamiliar and so unused around him, that he had almost forgotten what it meant. "Yes, I should think I would be?" he asked more than stated.

"I've already sent Elizabeth on to bed...and I can't honestly tell you when Claudia will be coming out...would you like to come now?" she asked very shyly.

Christopher swallowed as he wrapped his arm around Mary's thin shoulders. "Yes, I will be."
he said as he smiled down on her. And to the closed closed door, he called: "Claudia, your mot--" he paused and swallowed. Mary's look silently urged his words on. "mother and I will be heading off to bed now. Your dinner is still in the dining-room...I hope you will eat somethng."

And with those words he turned, leading Mary out of the room. He closed the door with a dulled click. He lead Mary into their room silently. Her breathing was no longer slow and steady as she walked from their door and into the closet.

"I'll be back." she said as she rushed inside and closed the door.

For once in all of the years that they had been married, Christopher anxiously awaited her return.

He stopped, his thoughts midstream. He hadn't waited on anyone like this before, not anyone but Christine. And now...now he was waiting on Mary, Christine's older sister. It felt wrong...something about it just felt wrong.

Mary walked out of the closet, stepping slowly towards him, the silk nightgown that she wore every night suddenly fell differently around her hips. The dark brown-black hair that she kept pinned up so neatly, now hung loosely down her shoulders in thick and heavy curls.

Christopher's mouth went dry. How strange it was to feel this pang that went straight through his chest. He wanted to run away, to hide in Christine's arms and be safe. He closed his eyes as Mary walked to his and wiped off a tear that Christopher did not know had fallen.

He heard her whisper, but for a moment, it wasn't Mary's voice. "Feeling isn't a sin, Christopher." he closed his eyes tighter as he buried his face in her bosom. Why couldn't he stay here, listening to what sounded like Christine's voice and smell the same smell that had been Christine.

"Christopher," Christine's voice called as he raised his head. Mary turned at the same time and they both stared at the thin woman standing in the doorway.

Christine Emerald Threlkeld Wilkinson Henry Rudd stood before them, alive and seemingly well.