Heart of Glass (12 page)

Colin glanced up again, saw the stubborn line of her jaw and knew she was going to refuse. He’d seen enough of death to know what it looked like. There was little hope for his sister, but Kate refused to see it.

Amelie was crying as she stared up at him in silent appeal. He had failed her before when he hadn’t come home from the war. He wouldn’t fail her again, not when she needed him. He would do anything to give her peace of mind.

Without warning, he grabbed Kate’s hand. She tried to pull away but he held tight and forced her hand down to cover the photograph. Slowly her fingers uncurled beneath his until her palm was pressed against the image of his family.

S
hocked into silence, Kate watched Amelie struggle to take a breath. Dumfounded, Kate started to protest, refusing to take any such vow, but then she met Colin’s gaze. Unshed tears welled in his eyes — tears that melted her heart.

He was doing this insane thing for his sister. How could she refuse?

“I promise,” she whispered. “I promise to raise Marie and Damian if anything happens to you.”

Colin took up where she left off. “I promise on our parents’ memories to marry Kate Keene and raise your children as my own.”

Kate’s hand trembled beneath his. He gave it a slight squeeze. She found him staring into her eyes. A chill seared her and she shivered, afraid that if he could see into her heart he would see the secret she’d kept hidden there all these years. The secret she’d just tried to deny.

“Promise that you won’t mourn me. Promise you will keep my children safe and happy,” Amelie urged.

“I promise.” There was no doubting Colin’s sincerity.

Kate hesitated. She wanted Amelie here.

“Kate, please,” Amelie urged.

Kate waffled between anger and the terror of such a loss.

“I promise,” she whispered.

Colin lifted his hand and Kate was free. She backed away, and a second later, Eugenie was at the door bearing a tray with a glass of milk. Her surprise at the sight of Colin was evident.

“I’ll sit with Miss Amelie if you all would like to go on down to the kitchen and have somethin’ to eat.”

Now that Amelie had extracted their promises, her eyelids were fluttering. Rather than have her fight much-needed sleep, Kate took the photograph from Amelie’s limp fingers and placed it on the bedside table. As she stepped back, Colin reached around her and propped the family portrait against a lamp where Amelie could see it.

Once they were on the gallery, Kate halted Colin.

“I need to talk to you.” She was determined not to vent her anger until they were downstairs. The last thing she wanted was for Amelie to overhear what she had to say.

“I have to get off my ankle.” He made his way to the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane, then stopped and reached for the banister with his free hand. Kate had been too upset to notice his pallor but was quickly reminded of his struggle.

She took hold of his elbow. He tried to shrug her off.

“Are we going to stand here playing tug-of-war with your arm, or are you going to let me help you?”

He stopped tugging and slowly negotiated the stairs, pausing after every step to take his weight off his ankle. When Kate finally let go of his arm, he headed for the front door.

“Oh no you don’t.” She took hold of him again. He stared at her hand but didn’t pull away. “If you think you’re running back
to the
garçonnière
after what just happened upstairs you are sorely mistaken. Come with me.”

She expected an argument. Instead, he followed her through the house and the gallery. As soon as they were inside the kitchen, she pulled a chair out from the table for him.

“Sit.”

He sat.

She was too upset to even think of sitting. She paced over to the stove and back to the table.

“Let’s get one thing clear. I have
not
always loved you.” That much was true. She hadn’t
always
loved him. Only since she was twelve or so until she came back to
Belle Fleuve
. Up until she saw him with the children she certainly hadn’t been pining over him anymore.

Worried, yes. But still in love? She would never, ever admit it to him. Certainly not now.

“Surely you know that’s not true,” she added. She watched his hand tighten on his cane. He looked at it for a second before he looked up at her.

“Of course not,” he said. “What woman could love me now?”

“Because of your injury? Hogwash.”

“What matters is Amelie, not the past and certainly not some schoolgirl crush of yours.”

“What were you thinking, making a promise like that? What made you swear to her that we’d marry?”

“I was
thinking
of my sister. No matter what you believe, she is going to die, and I don’t want her any more worried about her children than she already is.”

“But marriage is impossible.”

“I agreed to put Amelie’s mind at ease.”

“She doesn’t need
ease
. What she needs is hope. She needs to want to live. You’ve made it
easier
for her to die, Colin.”

“How dare you, Kate?”

“I’m sorry.” Seeing his outrage, she was instantly and truly sorry. “I’m just so upset …” She fought back tears and turned away.

“I know,” he said softly. “We both want what’s best for her.”

She turned and watched him prop his cane against the table and use both hands to push himself to his feet before he took up the cane again.

“Is that all? May I leave now?” His eyes were full of pain as he stood tall.

“Would you like something to eat before you go?”

“No. Thank you.”

Colin took a halting step, then put a bit of pressure on his bad leg and nearly crumpled. Kate rushed to his side, slipped beneath his arm, and wrapped her arm around his waist. She felt him tremble and didn’t let go even when he insisted he was fine. With her body pressed along his side, she looked up and found him staring down at her, his face mere inches away from hers.

“You can let go now,” he told her again.

She blinked and stepped back, then pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Colin, I’m going into New Orleans tomorrow to find a doctor,” she blurted out. “There has to be someone who can help Amelie.”

“If it makes you feel better, by all means go. But I hope you don’t regret leaving her now to go off on a fool’s errand.”

Rather than argue, she added, “There is an architect I wanted to speak to about work.”

It was time to turn her passion for architecture into a way to make a living. She needed to sit down with her accountant and go over her finances, to make certain there was no way Colin would ever find out she’d paid the back taxes on
Belle Fleuve
before he found sufficient funds to repay her.

Colin negotiated the room and had almost reached the door when he turned to her again.

“Work? How can you think about that now? What about the children?” There was a touch of panic in his eyes.

“Myra will be here to care for them. Eugenie will watch over Amelie. I hope you can summon the strength to visit her again.”

He sighed. “It’s hard.”

She didn’t know if he meant walking or seeing Amelie so ill.

“She needs you, Colin. The children need you. I doubt they’ve ever known an honorable man.”

“What makes you think I’m honorable?”

Kate adjusted her glasses again. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

“You are impossible, you know.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“When will you be back?”

“Soon. Day after tomorrow.” She watched him struggle to take a few more steps. “Would you like me to help you walk back? Do you need a dose of laudanum?”

“No, I dumped it out.”

She took it as a sign of hope.

He paused in the doorway and turned to her. “I can get back on my own. And Kate?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

For a moment she thought she heard wrong.

“For what?”

“For going against my wishes. I’m glad the place was decent enough for Amelie and the children to move into.”

“I’m right about finding someone to help her too. She’ll recover. You’ll see.”

A
lone on the path to the
garçonnière
, Colin took his time. Whenever he halted to ease his pain, he studied the garden. Someone had done some weeding since he’d seen it last. A few of his mother’s roses were free of the weeds that had been holding them hostage.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of the river,
the soil, the damp, fertile earth of Louisiana. Was there some hope for this place even if there was none left for him?

The sound of Damian’s laughter floated to him on the breeze off the river. He didn’t hear Marie’s voice; no doubt she was too worried about her mother to laugh. Watching one’s mother waste away was far more worry than a ten-year-old should have to bear.

Colin imagined that the world the children had known was a far cry from the childhood he and Amelie and Kate had shared. Sheltered and privileged, the three of them had grown up believing they were entitled to everything.

Though it caused him much anguish to face the truth, he held no hope for his sister. When she was gone, he would need insurmountable courage to raise two children. Could he do it?

He gazed beyond his mother’s garden, past the barn, the smokehouse, and other outbuildings, and past the row of cabins that once housed slaves and now stood empty, except the one Eugenie and Simon occupied. He looked over the old cane fields — the former lifeblood of the South and
Belle Fleuve
— but where there used to be acres and acres of sugarcane, there were but a few straggling islands of ratoon cane.

Yesterday Colin couldn’t imagine he would be able to walk from the
garçonnière
to the house, let alone drag himself upstairs — yet he’d done it for his sister. One step at a time, he’d done it for Amelie.

Could he possibly resurrect
Belle Fleuve
?

He had no idea where to start, but nothing could be accomplished without money. His only bankable asset was the Delany name. It was a name that meant something in a city where pedigree counted — especially if a man could claim Creole or Irish roots. Fortunately, he possessed both.

M
ost New Orleanians’ favorite pastimes were dining and shopping, and Kate was no exception. In town she feasted on all the rich foods she loved, thankful that the city was coming back from the long, dark years of the war and its aftermath.

She hurried up and down familiar streets, stopping now and then to purchase clothes and shoes for the children, a McGuffey’s First Reader for Damian, and some ribbons for Marie’s hair. They also needed stockings and undergarments and hairbrushes. And she found a gold locket for Marie.

Calling on a few of her mother’s closest friends, Kate asked for physician recommendations. She set up interviews with the top three recommended doctors. After she described Amelie’s symptoms to the first doctor, he told her the best thing she could do was return to
Belle Fleuve
and tell her friend good-bye. Kate walked out and slammed the door behind her.

She left the second visit in a pique when the well-known physician with a spotless reputation told her that Amelie was receiving the same care at
Belle Fleuve
that she’d get at a sanatorium — good meals, fresh air, and rest. Nothing was to be done but make her comfortable until the end.

Kate sat in the third doctor’s empty office waiting area, afraid she’d be returning to the plantation alone. A portly middle-aged
gentleman wearing a finely cut suit and a wide smile walked in. He was only a few inches taller than she.

“Miss Keene? I’m Doctor Jonathon Ward. How can I help you?”

He had a Yankee accent, which explained the lack of patients in his office.

“I’m seeking help for a friend,” she began. “She has consumption.” Kate described Amelie’s symptoms.

The man actually smiled when she finished.

“Why, Miss Keene, no case is ever hopeless. I’d be most happy to help.”

Kate burst into tears. Once she’d collected herself and was seated in a comfortable wing chair near a window overlooking Jackson Square, she listened to the doctor as he explained his plan of attack.

“There are many things to do before we give up, my dear. Many things. Phosphorous is one treatment—”

“I spoke to someone earlier who told me that it’s dangerous to use phosphorous when the disease is advanced.”

Dr. Ward waved his hand as if batting away a pesky fly. “Pooh. I’ve used it with much success.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His stare was intent. “I have a very powerful curative made of snail syrup.”

“Snails?” Kate loved escargot, but the idea of a syrup made from snails made her wince.

“Snails gathered from the garden in the early morning when the dew is still on the leaves. Bagged and doused with honey, they drip a very powerful restorative.”

Kate swallowed. “It works?”

He nodded. “Ninety-nine percent of the time.”

The man was overconfident, perhaps even a charlatan. She sat back and stared out at the park in the open square.

“What have you got to lose, Miss Keene?”

“My friend.” Her voice wavered. “My dearest friend.”

The doctor stood up and walked into the adjoining room. She
heard him moving around, and then he came back to the reception room carrying a square box. He sat and set the box on his knees. Taking great care, he lifted a crystal sphere out of a nest of excelsior and held it in both hands.

“If all else fails,
this
should do it.”

She leaned closer to the sphere. “What is it?”

“A very powerful healing stone discovered in the ruins of the ancient city of Rome. It holds the secrets of the ages.”

Any other time, Kate would have laughed and thought him crazy. But picturing Amelie’s shadowed eyes, her pitifully thin, bent frame, her lungs so infected that every cough was excruciating, Kate was ready to gamble on anything that might work.

“I suppose it’s worth a try. As crazy as it sounds, I have no other options,” she said.