False Southern Gentility
Ice blue...
Christine opened her eyes to the small oil lamp beside her. She coughed as air filled her stale lungs. How long had she been out? She must have been delusional, there was no way that she could have--
"Lord in Heaven." Lorillard started as he dropped the Scalpel that he had been holding beside her wrist. "Christine...you...you were dead?" he asked her in a quiet, startled voice.
Perhaps she hadn't imagined it...oh if only she hadn't imagined it. Heaven was such a beautiful place, such a wondrous place. Full of beauty and oh so peaceful--there was no pain, no coughing, no retching every time that she ate.
The first thing she had done was lift a glass to her lips and drank from the wondrous liquid that had filled it. She hadn't expected it to taste like it had--almost like--a cloud drop...her father had always said that Heaven was beautiful, but she hadn't expected it to look like it had.
The sounds, the people, the way her body felt, it was wonderful. Wonderful to feel so alive--yet so calm...
She shook her head. "I--" she coughed. Yes, she was back. "I need you to perform to op--operat--operation." she managed the squeeze out between painful coughs.
He shook his head. "Christine, I don't have any morphine here, nor chloroform. I can't start hacking away on you without something to stall the pain." he insisted as he touched her forehead.
Her fever was returning and he knew that there might not be much time.
"Do it, I say. I won't cry out, I'll end up fainting before it's all over anyways, just do it." she insisted as she ripped open part of her bloodstained nightgown. "Did the baby--did she survive?" she asked quietly.
Lorillard nodded. "Yes, she's alive and well." he answered as he crossed himself and then laid his own rosary into Christine's hand. "Hair Mary, full of grace, God is with thee--" he started as Christine closed her eyes.
She didn't hear the rest of the prayer, but she did feel the ripping as Lorillard pressed the scalpel into her delicate flesh.
Christine had been true to her word, she hadn't screamed, and she had fainted before the end of it. The last thing she could remember was Lorillard's hand moving inside of her abdomen, and then his voice. "I feel it Christine, I feel it." she had let herself go after that moment.
Christine awoke after two days, her body crying out in pain as she moved away from the side of the bed. "Lorillard--" she croaked out as he sat up in the corner. "What day is it?"
Lorillard rubbed his beard as he helped her stand up and slip a dress that his wife had left her, over her head. "Tuesday, your funeral."
Christine stopped. "My--my what?" she asked as he turned her around and buttoned the back gently.
"Your funeral. Child, my wife and I are the only two who even know that you're still living,"
Christine swallowed as she sat down. "Where--where are my shoes?" she asked as she gave Lorillard a level look. "I'd like to get one last look at my family." she said calmly.
After a few minutes of arguing and struggling not to cry, Christine got her way and was loaded easily into a carriage. "Here, this is a ticket to Savannah. One way. And two hundred dollars in gold. It should sustain you until you can re-marry. My cousin, Ann-Marie, is a widow, and has been told that you were coming from Charleston, be prepared to live a life very much different from this one." he said as he closed the door and spoke quietly to the driver.
"Thank you, Johnathan Lorillard." she said as she leaned painfully out of the window and kissed him on the cheek. "Take good care of my little girls for me...and Christopher too." she managed to get out as the carriage rolled and the rain began to pour.
As they reached the cemetery, Christine called to the driver to stop. "Wait for me." she said as she slid up her dark black hood and stepped out. The rain had stopped and the air hung stale around the solemn place.
Her breath caught as she say Christopher, looking down onto the coffin that was being lowered into the ground. "Say good-bye." he whispered to the small Elizabeth as she rushed to the side, bent down, and placed the small replica of Christine's seal muff, on top of the cold wood.
Christine held back as sob as the driver let her brace herself against him. "Mary?" she questioned as she saw her sister walk up behind Christopher as the cemetery cleared. Mary stopped before she touched Christopher's shoulder and looked towards the shaded woods.
She has to see me, she thought quietly as she turned to one side, shading her face from her sisters view. "Alright," Christine said as she grasped onto the drivers arm. "Take me to the station."
As they drove on past the cemetery, Christine dropped her hood and looked out the window at Christopher. He stopped and looked at the carriage, his eyes, searching the windows. Christine placed her hand to the glass and Christopher smiled as Mary pushed him on.
For Christine, that was her way of letting him know that she was still there, and the glance that he had given her, had let her know that he had at-least understood, maybe even known that she was alive.
In the back of her mind, she knew that Christopher didn't know she was alive, and if all went well, he never would. She would go to Savannah, start over there, and make a new start.
No, her mind screamed at her in anger, you should go back! You should help your family, stay with your daughters, with Christopher! You are abandoning them, leaving them for the buzzards!
The other part of her mind spoke to her calmly, soothing her pain into a soft lull. You aren't really leaving them, you are doing what's best for them. Would you want them to have to keep you up all the time? Make them miserable with your sickness? Isn't it bad enough that you have to live with it? Why make children live with it too? Why make Christopher live with it?
The carriage jounced roughly and Christine's thoughts were interrupted by a slash of pain. "I'z sorry Miz. I surely didn't meen to." he said in his strange rough black accent.
"It's...it's quite alright. Are we at the station yet?" she asked as they began to slow down a bit.
"We'z almos dere, Miz. It comen rite up hea." he said as they stopped and he rushed to the door, pulled it open, and grabbed the few bags that Lorillard had offered for her to take with her.
She swallowed. "Yes, thank you--I'm sorry, I didn't hear your name." she said as she took his arm and let him walk her up the train platform.
"My name iz Jedediah, it wuz my ma's papos name." he said as he lifted her up onto the train.
"Thank you, Jedediah. You have been a very, very--" she stopped as her head began to spin. She leaned forward momentarily, and then she fell backwards. The last thing that she remembered was hearing the train whistle blow, and seeing Christopher's face, his face with ice blue eyes.
"Lord in Heaven." Lorillard started as he dropped the Scalpel that he had been holding beside her wrist. "Christine...you...you were dead?" he asked her in a quiet, startled voice.
Perhaps she hadn't imagined it...oh if only she hadn't imagined it. Heaven was such a beautiful place, such a wondrous place. Full of beauty and oh so peaceful--there was no pain, no coughing, no retching every time that she ate.
The first thing she had done was lift a glass to her lips and drank from the wondrous liquid that had filled it. She hadn't expected it to taste like it had--almost like--a cloud drop...her father had always said that Heaven was beautiful, but she hadn't expected it to look like it had.
The sounds, the people, the way her body felt, it was wonderful. Wonderful to feel so alive--yet so calm...
She shook her head. "I--" she coughed. Yes, she was back. "I need you to perform to op--operat--operation." she managed the squeeze out between painful coughs.
He shook his head. "Christine, I don't have any morphine here, nor chloroform. I can't start hacking away on you without something to stall the pain." he insisted as he touched her forehead.
Her fever was returning and he knew that there might not be much time.
"Do it, I say. I won't cry out, I'll end up fainting before it's all over anyways, just do it." she insisted as she ripped open part of her bloodstained nightgown. "Did the baby--did she survive?" she asked quietly.
Lorillard nodded. "Yes, she's alive and well." he answered as he crossed himself and then laid his own rosary into Christine's hand. "Hair Mary, full of grace, God is with thee--" he started as Christine closed her eyes.
She didn't hear the rest of the prayer, but she did feel the ripping as Lorillard pressed the scalpel into her delicate flesh.
Christine had been true to her word, she hadn't screamed, and she had fainted before the end of it. The last thing she could remember was Lorillard's hand moving inside of her abdomen, and then his voice. "I feel it Christine, I feel it." she had let herself go after that moment.
Christine awoke after two days, her body crying out in pain as she moved away from the side of the bed. "Lorillard--" she croaked out as he sat up in the corner. "What day is it?"
Lorillard rubbed his beard as he helped her stand up and slip a dress that his wife had left her, over her head. "Tuesday, your funeral."
Christine stopped. "My--my what?" she asked as he turned her around and buttoned the back gently.
"Your funeral. Child, my wife and I are the only two who even know that you're still living,"
Christine swallowed as she sat down. "Where--where are my shoes?" she asked as she gave Lorillard a level look. "I'd like to get one last look at my family." she said calmly.
After a few minutes of arguing and struggling not to cry, Christine got her way and was loaded easily into a carriage. "Here, this is a ticket to Savannah. One way. And two hundred dollars in gold. It should sustain you until you can re-marry. My cousin, Ann-Marie, is a widow, and has been told that you were coming from Charleston, be prepared to live a life very much different from this one." he said as he closed the door and spoke quietly to the driver.
"Thank you, Johnathan Lorillard." she said as she leaned painfully out of the window and kissed him on the cheek. "Take good care of my little girls for me...and Christopher too." she managed to get out as the carriage rolled and the rain began to pour.
As they reached the cemetery, Christine called to the driver to stop. "Wait for me." she said as she slid up her dark black hood and stepped out. The rain had stopped and the air hung stale around the solemn place.
Her breath caught as she say Christopher, looking down onto the coffin that was being lowered into the ground. "Say good-bye." he whispered to the small Elizabeth as she rushed to the side, bent down, and placed the small replica of Christine's seal muff, on top of the cold wood.
Christine held back as sob as the driver let her brace herself against him. "Mary?" she questioned as she saw her sister walk up behind Christopher as the cemetery cleared. Mary stopped before she touched Christopher's shoulder and looked towards the shaded woods.
She has to see me, she thought quietly as she turned to one side, shading her face from her sisters view. "Alright," Christine said as she grasped onto the drivers arm. "Take me to the station."
As they drove on past the cemetery, Christine dropped her hood and looked out the window at Christopher. He stopped and looked at the carriage, his eyes, searching the windows. Christine placed her hand to the glass and Christopher smiled as Mary pushed him on.
For Christine, that was her way of letting him know that she was still there, and the glance that he had given her, had let her know that he had at-least understood, maybe even known that she was alive.
In the back of her mind, she knew that Christopher didn't know she was alive, and if all went well, he never would. She would go to Savannah, start over there, and make a new start.
No, her mind screamed at her in anger, you should go back! You should help your family, stay with your daughters, with Christopher! You are abandoning them, leaving them for the buzzards!
The other part of her mind spoke to her calmly, soothing her pain into a soft lull. You aren't really leaving them, you are doing what's best for them. Would you want them to have to keep you up all the time? Make them miserable with your sickness? Isn't it bad enough that you have to live with it? Why make children live with it too? Why make Christopher live with it?
The carriage jounced roughly and Christine's thoughts were interrupted by a slash of pain. "I'z sorry Miz. I surely didn't meen to." he said in his strange rough black accent.
"It's...it's quite alright. Are we at the station yet?" she asked as they began to slow down a bit.
"We'z almos dere, Miz. It comen rite up hea." he said as they stopped and he rushed to the door, pulled it open, and grabbed the few bags that Lorillard had offered for her to take with her.
She swallowed. "Yes, thank you--I'm sorry, I didn't hear your name." she said as she took his arm and let him walk her up the train platform.
"My name iz Jedediah, it wuz my ma's papos name." he said as he lifted her up onto the train.
"Thank you, Jedediah. You have been a very, very--" she stopped as her head began to spin. She leaned forward momentarily, and then she fell backwards. The last thing that she remembered was hearing the train whistle blow, and seeing Christopher's face, his face with ice blue eyes.