A Hope Beyond (33 page)
She smoothed her high lace collar and turned to face the closed doors of the dining room. But she isn’t mine, Carolina thought to herself and gently touched her hand to the door. She isn’t mine and even if I risk losing her, I must somehow try to unite her with her father.
Carolina opened the door without so much as a knock. Blake St. John glanced up, his expression sternly fixed, his dark eyes smoldering as they always were.
“Good evening, Mr. St. John,” she said, feeling the discomfort of his stare.
He got to his feet in polite recognition. “Miss Adams.”
She stood rigidly awaiting his command, and seeing this, he seemed to relax a bit. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“Thank you.”
They were both seated, and Carolina was surprised to find Mrs. Graves quickly enter the room with a plate of warm food. Carolina smiled appreciation at the woman, but Mrs. Graves merely stuck her nose in the air and exited the room.
“I’d expected you earlier,” St. John said, without giving her so much as a glance.
“Yes, I know. Victoria was just sitting down to her dinner, and I’d promised her that I would stay.”
He seemed uninterested and this only furthered Carolina’s growing irritation with the man. Surely if she were to speak to him on matters of his daughter, she would have to swallow down her fear. Blake St. John would go on indefinitely running her life if she didn’t find a way to face him and stand fast.
“Mr. St. John, might I speak to you?”
He looked rather surprised by her boldness and put down his fork. “By my leave.”
“Thank you.” Carolina felt the palms of her hands grow moist. “As you know, your daughter is five years old.” She began that way even though she wasn’t truly convinced that he did realize this simple fact. “Victoria is a very intelligent young lady, and she is also very charming and affectionate.”
“Your point, Miss Adams?”
Carolina threw caution to the wind. “She needs you in her life, Mr. St. John. She asks after you constantly and desires to know you better.”
“Is that all?” He resumed eating as though the words had meant nothing.
Carolina stared at him for a moment. Her temper was barely held in check as she responded. “Isn’t that enough? Is it not enough to know that your own child scarcely knows you? Is it not enough that Victoria longs for a father’s love? Can you not see that such a thing is essential to her well-being?”
“Does she have enough to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Enough clothes to keep her warm?”
“Yes.”
“Have you everything else you need to school the child, medicate her when she is ill, manage her affairs when she is not?”
“Of course,” Carolina answered flatly. “But that is not the point.”
“I see no other point that is valid to my concern.”
Carolina slammed her fork down. “Your concern should be her welfare in matters that go beyond her physical needs.”
St. John stared at her in complete surprise. Carolina swallowed hard. It was the first time she’d dared to stand her ground with her employer, and the very idea of what she was embarking upon caused her to tremble. Victoria needs her father, Carolina reminded herself once again. She needs him possibly more than she even needs me. I can’t be selfish and worry that St. John might dismiss me. Oh, God, she prayed, help me in this matter. Let me say the right things for Victoria’s sake.
Calming her nerves, Carolina took a long sip of tea before continuing.
“I have been in your employ for over four years, and in all that time you have scarcely seen your daughter. She longs to know of her mother and brother. Why do you insist upon distancing yourself from the one person you should love above all others?”
St. John said nothing for several moments. His eyes narrowed angrily, however, and a characteristic tick in his cheek became quite noticeable. Carolina knew she’d overstepped the bounds of propriety.
She could hear her heart beating in her ears, and her mouth grew horribly dry.
“Are you quite finished?” he finally asked.
Carolina looked at him as if considering what she could say to dispel his rage. “I did not mean to be so outspoken,” she admitted.
“It’s just that you are never here to know for yourself what I see every day.”
“You forget yourself, Miss Adams. You are the child’s nurse, nothing more. You have no authority to speak to me on matters that do not concern you. If you find this arrangement unacceptable, perhaps you should consider leaving.”
Something in his haughtiness and blatant disregard for her concerns gave Carolina the boldness to make her next move. Getting to her feet, she slapped her napkin down on the table and moved to the doors. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have grown too attached and far too concerned for Victoria’s well-being. Maybe I
should
go.”
Before she could flee, however, Blake St. John was on his feet. “Wait!” he exclaimed, the desperation in his tone totally out of character.
Carolina was halted more out of surprise than obedience. She turned to look up at him, feeling the heat of his stare, knowing that he would say more. To her surprise, he touched her. Lightly, with hesitant hands, he touched her arm and pulled her ever so gently back to the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I spoke rashly. Please, sit down and let us be more civil.”
Carolina was shocked. The mighty Blake St. John was apologizing? And for what? She had been the impudent one. She gazed down at where he held her arm and felt a warm blush on her cheeks.
As if noting her discomfort, Blake quickly dropped his hold and held out her chair. “Please sit.”
Carolina did as he bid, more because of her inability to speak than of any desire to further their conversation.
Blake paced behind her for a moment before finally taking his own seat. “Miss Adams . . .” he began hesitantly. “Miss Adams, you must know that I respect your understanding of Victoria. Please do not consider leaving her.”
Carolina looked at him with great heaviness in her heart. “But you do not understand my love of Victoria. To stay here, to live with the child and see her long for that which she can never have, is heartbreaking. Can’t you understand? You come and go at leisure. You’re gone for weeks, sometimes months, and then suddenly reappear as if to remind her of what she can never have. It’s cruel and heartless, and I hate seeing her so treated.”
For the first time, Carolina saw Blake St. John appear vulnerable. His stern expression dropped away, and he ran his hands wearily through his ebony hair. “Being heartless and cruel is what I do best, I suppose. I cannot give her what I haven’t got within myself to give.”
“All she wants is a father to love her,” Carolina replied.
“Exactly,” Blake said, getting to his feet. He paused, as if trying to decide what he should do. “I implore you to dismiss any thoughts of leaving and . . . I implore you to forget this terrible notion of making me into a father figure for Victoria. I cannot be what you want me to be.” With that he was gone, leaving Carolina to stare at her uneaten plate of food and to ponder the mysteries of what she’d just experienced.
“Miss Adams,” Mrs. Graves spoke in a reserved, almost hesitant manner, “you’ve a visitor.”
Carolina looked up from the embroidered sampler she was teaching Victoria to sew. “A visitor? But who is it?”
“Your father, ma’am.”
Carolina instantly forgot the sewing lesson. “My father? Here?” Her animated voice betrayed her extreme pleasure at this turn of events. “Come, Victoria. Let us go greet my father.”
Joseph Adams waited in the front sitting room and seemed most genuinely pleased when Carolina bounded into the room and threw herself into his arms. There was no need to stand on formalities, and the warmth shared between them was not lost on Victoria.
“Me too!” the child exclaimed without reservation and wrapped herself around the man she’d seen on several prior occasions.
Joseph laughed and exchanged a look over the child’s head with Carolina. She knew he understood. She’d written many times of her frustration with Blake St. John. Joseph well knew of Victoria’s need for a father figure.
“My, my!” he exclaimed and lifted Victoria into the air as though she were his own daughter. “You have grown at least a foot since I saw you last.”
Victoria giggled and happily embraced Joseph. “Mr. Adams, are you going to stay a long time with us?”
Joseph shook his head. “Not as long as I’d like. But while I am here, I promise we will have a great deal of fun. Would you like to go the park this afternoon? It’s a lovely June day.”
“Oh, please!” Victoria squealed and looked hopefully at Carolina.
“But of course,” Carolina replied to her charge’s unspoken question.
It was settled then, and the three of them embarked on an afternoon of pleasure. The park had been an excellent idea, for while Victoria was preoccupied with running about, Joseph and Carolina had time for a private discussion.
Carolina felt as though she’d been let go from a guarded cell. “Sometimes,” she told her father, “I feel as though I’m a prisoner. Were it not for Victoria, I would never have stayed these many years.”
“You love her a great deal,” her father said matter-of-factly. “That much is evident. You do realize the danger of such a bond, don’t you?”
Carolina nodded. “I feel it every day. At first, I guarded myself and took special care not to get too close to her. But, Papa, everyone was doing that with Victoria. Her father never came to see her, much less hold her or play with her. Mrs. Graves and Cook are poor substitutes for grandmothers, but even they afforded her only marginal attention. I believe they are afraid to love her.”
“But not you.” Joseph patted her hand.
“Oh, I am afraid,” Carolina admitted. Victoria had joined up with several children who were attempting to fly a kite. Smiling, Carolina turned back to her father. “But how could I let my fear keep that child from being loved? Everyone needs to feel that someone cares for them. I loved Victoria the first time I laid eyes upon her. How could I pretend to feel otherwise?”
“It won’t be easy to be parted from her.”
“No, and I find myself praying that such a day might never come.”
“But realistically speaking, you know it must. You are twenty-two years old. Have you no desire to marry and bear children of your own?”
“Of course I do, Father,” Carolina answered, her gaze ever on the wandering child. “Victoria, come away from the water!” she called out sternly. A portion of the park edged up against Chesapeake Bay, and the water made an alluring attraction for children.
“So long as you are happy,” Joseph finally said, breaking their sudden silence.
“I am content,” Carolina replied. She linked her arm with her father’s. “But what of you, Papa? Surely you didn’t make the trip to Baltimore just to find out if I was happy.”
He smiled. “No.”
“What is it?” Carolina halted, feeling her heart in her throat. She’d not even thought to ask of home and family.
“Your mother is no better. I’m afraid my indulging her at home all of these years may well have harmed her more than helped her. You know that the doctor suggested I send her away from Oak-bridge?” Carolina nodded. “I’ve always hesitated, feeling that I was deserting her by doing such a thing, but in truth I see now where the constant reminder of what she’d lost might well have kept her hopelessly mired in insanity.”
“You did what you thought best.”
“Yes, I did. . . .” He paused to look out across the water as though seeking some solace there. “Now I am moving ahead to do what just might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“What is that, Papa?”
“I’m on my way to Boston to investigate an asylum for the mentally ill.”
“You are going to have Mother committed?” She tried to keep any note of accusation from her voice.
“I believe I have no other choice. She tried to stab one of the slaves.”
“Oh no!” Carolina exclaimed, her gloved hand quickly covering her mouth. She ignored the fact that Victoria was now preoccupied with picking park flowers. “What happened?” she asked her father in hushed tones.
“I’m really not sure. Somehow your mother wandered down to the kitchen, and the next thing we knew she was holding a knife to the throat of one of the workers. I can’t have her in the house if she’s going to threaten the lives of the people around her. The asylum in Boston has a great reputation. Charles Dickens himself toured the facilities earlier this year and found this particular asylum to be of the finest example.”
“Charles Dickens, the writer?”
“One and the same. The man is also a faithful humanitarian. He concerns himself greatly with the affairs of mankind, particularly of social reform. I had the pleasure of meeting him at the White House a few months past. He intends to write a great deal about this country and our social circumstances.”
“And he convinced you of the merit of asylums?” Carolina asked, still not believing her father’s decision.
“He convinced me of the possibilities of one such institution. I admit, I am not compelled to act on his word alone. That is partially why I am here today. I am making my way to Boston to interview the doctors and workers for myself.”
“I see. And what do you believe can be gained for Mother by sending her so far from home and loved ones?”
Joseph frowned. “I don’t know. I do know that no one feels at ease with her screaming and torturous cries going on day and night. It’s like nothing you can imagine. I thank God daily that you and the others don’t have to endure such trials. Poor Virginia bears up under it like a regular nursemaid, but I see the strain taking its toll on her. I’ve never told you this, but she has had three miscarriages.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“She didn’t want me to. The most recent time was last winter when she was so exhausted that she fell down the stairs.”
Carolina wondered if it were indeed exhaustion or Virginia’s penchant for liquor that caused such a fall. Realizing that she’d come across as rather harsh with her father, Carolina squeezed his arm gently. “You will make the right choice, Papa. Of this I am certain.”
