Breathless (25 page)

"Good night," Wesley whispered as they stood in front of the Carey's house later that night. Charlotte smiled back and put a finger to her lips, cautioning him to be quiet in case the Careys were already asleep. Wes smiled and took her finger away from her lips. Then, very sweetly, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the tip of her nose. Shivers ran through Charlotte's body as she uncontrollably grinned. Then, without quite thinking, she reached up to his face, and brought Wesley to her close. She kissed him on his lips, so warm and so soft.

"Good night," Charlotte whispered in his ear. She gave him one last smile before going into the house. As soon as she was inside, she leaned back against the door and bit her lip, grinning to herself, feeling like she was on a cloud.

"Did you have a good night, little Miss Charlotte?" Mrs. Gates awakened Charlotte from her daydream.

"Yes," Charlotte replied honestly. She couldn't stop smiling, although she tried to dampen her grin so that Mrs. Gates wouldn't notice anything different. "Um," Charlotte said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, "Did the Careys already return?"

"They came straight home after the show," Mrs. Gates told her. "Helen was feeling tired. And Jack got home only a little while ago."

"Jack's here?" Charlotte asked, surprised.

"Yes," Mrs. Gates replied, looking rather confused. "Wasn't he at the performance tonight?"

"I don't think so." Charlotte shook her head. "I didn't see him. He must have been out with friends."

"Oh," Mrs. Gates said, shrugging. "Well he's home now."

Charlotte nodded. "Well, I think I'll go up to sleep now. It's been a long weekend. Good night, Mrs. Gates," she said, embracing the kind housekeeper, who she had grown to have a bond with. Charlotte made her way up the stairs, still feeling the excitement from her kiss and the glow of a wonderful evening.

But still...the light streaming from under Jack's door piqued her interest. Charlotte hesitated. Usually a trip into Jack's room gave her nothing but heartache for one reason or another. But she could never seem to stay away. She quietly turned the doorknob and finally stepped into his room.

Jack was already laying in his bed, sound asleep. He must have left the light on by accident while finishing some writing, which was still strewn across his desk, his jacket draped across the back of the chair.

Charlotte smiled at the sight of him looking so peaceful and calm on the bed. She walked over to his bedside and covered him with the light quilt that lay at the foot of the bed. But as she did, her foot kicked something that was laying on the ground. Frowning, Charlotte bent to pick it up. It was an empty liquor bottle.

Charlotte's face fell as she looked back to Jack, laying so sound asleep on the bed. She thought that this had just been a stage and that it had passed. But catching the faint smell of alcohol on his clothes, Charlotte knew Jack was still who he always was and always had been. A scrap of paper lay on the table next to his bed. Picking it up, Charlotte realized it was a telephone number, with a girl's name written on it.

She sighed, her heart feeling heavy once again. But she was realizing there was nothing she could do to change who Jack was. Nobody could do that. So instead of waking him and criticizing as she might have only a few months earlier, Charlotte instead reached into her bag for the chocolate croissants she and Wesley had purchased to take home from the cafe, and placed the box on the side-table. She took the scrap of paper and turned it over, writing in neat script,
These are for you. Good night. Charlotte.

Charlotte looked at Jack again.
Wesley would never do something like this,
she told herself.
Wesley's mature. And Jack's still young and reckless. It's just who he is.
She leaned over and softly pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead as he slept. "Good night," she whispered, just as she would have for Luc.

She knew by now that Jack would never leave her thoughts. But at least she could try to think of him as a brother.

She could try. That was the best she could do.

Charlotte took her tea in the upstairs breakfast room the next morning. It was a beautiful day-with sunlight streaming through the windows and a nice warmth settling-and Charlotte opened the doors to the balcony as Mrs. Gates brought in her breakfast. She could already tell it was going to be a beautiful summer.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gates," Charlotte said gratefully as she sat down at the dainty table. Already at her place was a newspaper. Although the ones she had already seen were generally very positive, she had been dying to read more reviews of her performance. But Lewis usually absconded with the papers before she had the chance.

Charlotte eagerly leafed through the paper, searching for the entertainment section, but was dismayed to find that it was already gone. She sighed sat back in her seat, stirring her tea. Of course Lewis had gotten to it first. Feeling a bit disappointed, Charlotte tried to push these thoughts aside and reached for the front section of the paper. At least she had something new to read. She had finished all of Lewis' recommendations ages ago and had been yearning for something new and exciting. The newspaper could always be counted on for that.

As she began to immerse herself in the headlines, Charlotte nearly leapt out of her seat in surprise when she heard the soft sound of a throat clearing behind her.

"Jack!" Charlotte cried, looking at him with wide eyes. She placed her hand over her heavily beating heart, her breath coming in short spurts. "Are you trying to kill me? You scared me half to death!"

"I'm sorry," he replied, cringing apologetically.

"No matter," Charlotte told him. She looked at the table setting. "Are you hungry? Mrs. Gates brought up a small breakfast for before church. There's certainly enough for a few people. Join me."

After a quick moment, Jack nodded. "Thank you." He sat down across from Charlotte and properly dropped a cloth napkin onto his lap before serving himself some tea. Charlotte turned her eyes back to the newspaper as Jack reached for the scones.

"So," he said quietly, avoiding Charlotte's eyes. "Why didn't you say anything last night?" Charlotte met his eyes, which were serious. "I know you went to my room, Charlotte. You wrote me a note...remember?"

"Oh. Yes." Charlotte replied softly. She folded the paper and placed it down on the table, smoothing it with her palm. "I remember."

"You knew that I was out last night," Jack continued. "That I was drinking and partying. Why didn't you say anything? You usually have a harsh word or two. Or you could have said something to Lewis and Helen..."

Charlotte hesitated for a moment. In a way, she had wanted to run to Lewis and Helen to tell them what she had seen last night. In a way, she felt as if they could fix any problem. But then she had remembered that Jack had been like this for years. There was no changing him. There was only accepting him.

She finally shook her head and gave him a small smile. "It was your business, Jack. Not anyone else's. Yours. It doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what your parents think. You're eighteen years old, Jack. You get to make your own decisions. And you don't need a silly little girl running after you, telling your parents everything you do." She gave him a small laugh and then returned to her paper.

Jack smiled at her. He looked down at his tea for a moment. "But to be honest, Charlotte, you're not just a silly little girl anymore."

Charlotte met his eyes, surprised. Her heart strangely began to beat faster.

"You're not," he told her. "You're like my little sister now."

In a way, this made Charlotte happy and proud that he would consider his little sister. But in another part of her heart, she felt aching. "Oh," she said brightly. "Well that's definitely a compliment I'll be willing to take." She smiled at him and passed him a section of the paper. "Here. I think the racing scores are in there if you're interested." Jack smiled back at her and took it, leaning back in his chair to read.

Charlotte looked at him for a moment longer, admiring him. He always looked so sweet in the morning, as if she could still see the reflection of the small boy he once was, with his soft hair mussed and his blue eyes still cloudy with sleep. He usually wore his glasses in the mornings, which made him look even younger. And when he was reading, he always wore a serious look upon his face that Charlotte loved. She smiled, and went back to reading her own section, enjoying this comfortably quiet moment with Jack more than she could ever have imagined.

"Good morning," Lewis said brightly, walking into the breakfast room.

"Good morning, Lewis," Charlotte replied with a smile.

"Thank you," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Were you two planning on attending church this morning? Helen seems to have contracted a bit of an illness and we're staying in for today. Jack, if Charlotte would still like to go, you'll take her?"

"Of course," Jack agreed.

"Tell Helen we hope she feels better," Charlotte said, in the back of her mind wondering if Helen was getting sick like she had been at the theatre last night.

"I will," Lewis said gratefully before leaving the room.

"So," Jack said to Charlotte. "Did you still want to go today?"

"I had been planning on it," Charlotte admitted, casting a glance at the sunny outdoors. "But we don't have to go if you don't want to," she added hurriedly, not wanting to keep Jack cooped up in a church for the better part of Sunday.

"No, let's go," Jack said enthusiastically, his blue eyes darting to the opened balcony doors. "Hurry up and get dressed so we can get out of this stuffy house."

A grin spread across Charlotte's face and she darted up from the table, eager to start the day.

In a remarkably quick length of time, Charlotte and Jack had dressed and were in his car, driving to the church with the windows rolled down. Charlotte grinned as the light wind tossed her hair over her cheeks and across her forehead. Her cardigan had been tossed aside, leaving her shoulders bare under her white sleeveless sundress. The hot sun's rays kissed the tips of her shoulders as she leaned her arm on the frame of the window. She glanced over at Jack and smiled, seeing him looking so content. He drove casually, his light suit jacket tossed aside and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stylish sunglasses perched on his nose. He looked completely serene and carefree in a way that Charlotte had never seen before.

"Isn't it absolutely gorgeous today?" Jack asked suddenly. Charlotte smiled and nodded. "What do you say we skip church today?" he asked her, casting a quick glance. "It's too beautiful of a day to spend in a church. Let's do something else. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes!" Charlotte agreed excitedly. "What should we do?"

"We'll stop at the cafe," Jack told her. "And pick up some lunch. Let's have a picnic at the park."

When they arrived, the park was much more crowded than Charlotte would have expected. It seemed that everyone in London was having a day out-picnicking with their families, playing games with their children, courting their sweethearts. "It's very busy," she commented to Jack as he laid their quilt on the lawn.

"I expected it to be so," Jack replied. "If you think about it, it's the perfect place for everyone. You don't have to pay to get it, and you can bring your own food and games. And it's such a beautiful day outside. My parents are crazy for staying indoors." He dropped to the ground and laid on his back, shielding the glaring sun with his arm.

Charlotte sat down gingerly, carefully folding her skirt under her legs. She looked around a bit awkwardly. "Why are they looking at us?"

"They're kids," Jack said, hearing laughs and screams as a few children ran by. "They're always staring at something."

"No, Jack," Charlotte insisted. "
Look
." Jack finally took his arm away from his face and sat up, looking around at the people who were nearby taking picnics or strolling along the grass. They would cast inquisitive glances at the pair and then maybe murmur to each other, giving pointed looks in Charlotte's direction. After observing for a few moments, Jack turned to Charlotte with his familiar smirk. "Char, if you haven't already noticed, you're photograph has been in every newspaper this week. You've already performed for thousands of people. They know who you are. You're fa-"

"Don't say it," Charlotte cut him off. She shut her eyes and shook her head vigorously. She had always hated when people called her mother famous, as if it were an admirable characteristic. She still hated it. She felt Jack's gentle touch on her arm.

"Do you want to leave?" Jack asked her seriously. Charlotte bit her lip, not wanting to be an inconvenience, but one look was all Jack needed to know she was lying. "Come on," he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the grass. He pulled her with him as he broke into a run across the lawn, so fast that Charlotte's skirt flew out behind her and her hair caught in the wind. For a split second, Charlotte was reminded of the time, which felt so long ago, when the bombs fell over London and Jack had run with her, pulling her to safety. And in the same way, he was pulling her to safety once again. The pair ran until they came over the top of a hillside and into the grounds of a beautiful cemetery.

They stood together for a moment, breathless, heaving with exhaustion. But Jack briskly began to walk again, making his way between the monumental tombstones and mausoleums, and Charlotte followed close behind. They walked for what felt like a lengthy amount of time before he finally stopped in front of a tombstone. Charlotte stood next to him and looked at it with surprise.