Chapter 3

My version of Lycans stem from Roman myth; I feel that mythical beings like Lycans and Vampires should always have serious legends behind them.

Chapter 3

 

For as many turns of the world I have felt beneath my feet, there has only ever been one gravitational force that I could call the center of my being. I hear the music of the spheres like a chorus in my mind, but every turn of phrase, every crescendo and glorious refrain speaks the name of Julia Knightley.

I was a young man when I first lost myself to her eyes of liquid jade. Well, a younger man. I had just finished my second trip through medical schooling in London and was quite at my leisure to go again a third time (It is easy for us, with as lengthy as our life spans are, to become very intimately acquainted with any profession or professions we choose). But while on a brief holiday with a relative in the countryside of Bath, I became acquainted with the family of the Knightleys. They were well thought of, having amongst them four daughters who were all doted upon with great compliments of beauty and accomplishment from the rest of the community. The eldest of them, who was due to inherit the majority of the family’s holdings at the time of her marriage, was Miss Julia Knightley.

The gods could not have denied such beauty as it could appear in a human woman and she, though only 21 and several decades my junior, presented me with the most stimulating and mystifying conversations I had ever beheld. Of course, due to my differing race, we looked nearly the same age and it did not take long for the whispers of my infatuation to reach the ears of her family.

I made no mystery of it, despite the repercussions it would have incurred from my kin. Taking humans as a mate, while not encouraged, does not directly violate any laws. But it presents great risk to the parties involved and so measures are often taken to stifle such intentions. It puts our secrecy at great risk and Miss Julia, for as often as we spoke and enjoyed each other’s company, did not know of the nature of my true race. No one in her family or in Bath knew of it, apart from my own party of relatives there. And so, in their ignorance, her family was torn into over the prospect of our union. Some approved of it with animated excitement; mine was a prestigious family with a powerful name and old fortune. Old money was widely agreed to be the very best kind to have. But, as was observed by others, I had not chosen to live as a gentleman and had shamed my family’s name by choosing a profession that required me to apply myself to actual work. This practice of working rather than living a lavish and essentially fruitless lifestyle was considered ungentlemanly.

Unfortunately my mind was set; with as long a life as I had to look forward to I simply couldn’t stand the idea that I should not do anything of benefit. Medicine came to be a great passion of mine. It both stimulated my mind with its constant changing and advancing fountain of possibilities and provided me with a pleasing sensation of accomplishment by allowing me to fulfill the purpose of my race: the protection and preservation of humans. If I should have to sacrifice the passing stipulations of gentlemanly conduct, I was willing to accept my fate as a public disappointment. Miss Julia understood this, as I tried to convey it to her while leaving out the particulars of my race.

Driven by my love-drunk passions and infatuation with her wise smiles, quiet words, and peaceful presence, I could not keep myself from her. She did not refuse me at any turn, seeming to share the depth of my feelings. But the light in her lovely eyes waned whenever the oppression of disapproval was voiced about our relationship and I saw her fade, caught in a barren rift between her family’s satisfaction and her own.

So came the young Baron Whinsette. He was not as foul as I should have liked to him to be. From what I heard of him, he was a kind spirited man with gentle manners and a pleasing mien. But he was as most young love-struck human men are: entirely out of their senses and needlessly reckless with their infatuations. He set his eyes upon Miss Julia and was as lost as I had been. But he had a great deal more prestige in his presence than I had. More money. And considerably more influence. But more presently, he had only one career and that was being a gentleman. It was immediately concurred by the Knightleys that he and my Miss Julia should be united as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, I was still in the way of that scheme. Miss Julia loved me, or so she professed, and despite Whinsette’s repeated attempts to sway her, she refused to be moved. I saw then a glimpse of hope. But it was not to last.

In the fashion of gentleman of our social standing, Whinsette did exactly as he ought to have. He challenged me to a duel for Miss Julia’s hand in marriage. It was to be a fight to the death, for he declared that neither of us should see much delight in living if we could not have her. Miss Julia was stricken ill with horror and despair at this, but she could do little to prevent it.

Faced with this prospect, I felt myself stand at that same rift with my Miss Julia where I was torn between the laws of my kind and the desires of my heart. It is forbidden by our law for a Lycan to bring any intentional harm to a human, even at the cost of his own life. I was as bound to that oath as any other Lycan. But Miss Julia did not know this, nor did anyone else, and so to challenge me to fight him was for Whinsette to dare me to defy more than just my common sense. It was to ask me to defy the very purpose for the creation of my race.

So I refused his challenge.

Miss Julia married Whinsette not a month later and the two moved to the colonies in North America several years after. They lived happily. They had children. Whinsette was heavily involved in the war for independence in the colonies. He was a good man, and honest man, and I would like to imagine that Julia never thought of me again after that. 

I cannot say the same for myself. What broke my heart splintered also my soul and her face resonates in every step I take. As the years have passed and her name and memory has been forgotten by the human world, I cannot forget any small detail about her. I carry the light of her memory with me, though it may melt the walls of my sanity like wax. I fear for the day when that light goes out and I am lost to the starry night, left to the devices of utter anguish.

 

~>*<~

 

The nearest barn held three horses, amongst the young calves that her father had to keep a careful watch on. The first two were simple beasts, used for herding the cattle, but the last was for Charly’s particular use. He had been bought from a local farmer who had no more use for a draft horse that might pull a plow, and the massive Shire horse had made his home here. He was a gentle beast by nature, hardly willing to trot or canter if only for the prospect of a sugar cube as a reward. With a glossy coat the color of dark red mud and a mane and tail of creamy white, he looked rather princely and so Charly had named him Henry. He had flowing long hair of the same cream color that grew from his hocks and curious dark eyes that might easily spot a sugar cube or carrot from a hundred yards away.

Henry smacked his lips and pricked his ears as Charly opened his stall door, leading the great horse out and speaking gently to him as she dressed him in his saddle and bridle. Her father had indulged her with a beautiful set of tack for her new pet, pleased that his daughter had taken an interest in a farm animal. He’d shown her how to oil the leather and polish the brass buckles and bit. She did the work credibly and often, taking special care in it so that the saddle shone as brightly as it had the day it had been purchased.

Henry wore it all proudly and followed his little rider from the barn, sniffing through her hair and nibbling at the shoulder of her sweatshirt as she adjusted the stirrups and, with a great heave, hoisted herself up into the saddle. Henry stirred in his stance, but rarely ever panicked. Mr. Montgomery had no need to ever be concerned that the horse might gallop away with his daughter on board; no one had ever seen Henry do much more than graze.

The sun was beginning to set behind the pale mountaintops and a brisk evening wind billowed in Charly’s long, dark gold hair. It framed her face in a delicate, pretty way as she nudged her horse into a lurching walk towards the broad expanse of the valley. Henry’s ears pricked and swiveled, the great horse turning his head to consider the faint glow of headlights in the growing dusk coming up the driveway towards the farm.

In her chest, her heart stirred and panicked. There was little mystery as to who was behind those headlights and as they drew nearer, she saw the outline of Sam’s red Dodge pickup. Her expression hardened to something less attractive and she turned the horse away as Sam parked he car next to hers in the carport, looking at her through the window as he passed. He offered her a warm, friendly smile that she immediately dismissed.

Before she could hear the sound of his truck’s door opening, she urged the massive draft horse into a thundering trot away into her father’s grazing pastures, leaving Sam Elrod standing in a swirl of dust and cold wind with a confused and vexed expression. The great beast huffed and puffed and Charly held tightly to the reins, forcing the stagnant beast to maintain speed. She was very used to his jerky, uneven gate and had learned when to post to keep from being bounced right out of the saddle. But she did not make him hold the uncomfortable gate for long, conceding at last to let him walk, head low, across the sweeping valley that spanned her father’s land. They owned a great many acres and now and again she saw the dark figures of her father’s cows grazing lazily far in the distance.

Seated astride her majestic horse, she looked as small as a child and her wild eyes of jade panned the horizon. Away across the valley, the windows of Dervyshire house glowed against the coming night and she stopped, looking there and wondering at that massive dark place only a few miles away. The sensation of solitude was not surprising or unfamiliar, but it was unexpected as she sat and looked, the wind in her hair and the sunset in her eyes. Not a soul was around them for miles, apart from that ominous house, and despite the signs of life that now lit its windows, she felt as though she must be the only living person in all the world.

Above, the stars pressed eagerly through the veil of deep purple as the night sky drew over the horizon like a cold, dark blanket. She would have to go home soon and face Sam Elrod, her mother, and her father. She had behaved in a rude and horribly unsociable way to Sam just now; an apology would be in order. Her mind reeled at the idea and Charly could hardly remember any of the good reasons she’d presented to Kim for resolving to like him or to at least be satisfied with him. Perhaps seeing him again had jarred her from any delusion of that nonsense.

Turning around, she tugged at the reins to move Henry back in the direction of her own house, now a small speck of light in the distance. Normally, Henry would have been delighted to go in his favorite direction, that being towards the feed barn, but his sudden reluctance concerned her as he locked his legs and puffed his nostrils loudly. His ears perked forward and swiveled, huffing in deep breaths as his flanks shivered. With nothing but starlight and the weak, lingering light of the setting sun to see by, Charly couldn’t make out what it was that had spooked him. But as she nudged him, urging him forward, the great horse snorted and stirred but refused to move.

Nuances of panic and concern about what she might not detect in the gloom made Charly’s heartbeat hasten and she whispered to Henry, trying to soothe him and coax him on. But the draft horse was resolved and all her efforts only succeeded in making him toss his head, whinny sharply, and turn excitedly in a circle. He smelled something, by the way his eyes searched and his nose heaved with deep breaths. Mountain lions weren’t uncommon enough to escape her dread and she insisted on the direction of her house, planting her heels into his shuddering flanks. The horse shrieked once more, his mouth beginning to froth, and rose up to paw the air and sling his head against the reins.

The chaotic motion of her panicking horse slung Charly from the saddle where she landed on the square of her back, coughing for breath and stunned. She sat up hurriedly, able to catch only a fleeting glimpse of Henry’s dark figure thundering away across the open prairie land. And then he was gone.

Charly sat alone in the darkness, fear probing cold fingers against her mind that sent chills over her skin. Through her panic and the force of falling from so high she was hardly able to catch her breath, sucking in only sharp little gasps as she took to her hands and knees on the dry, cold earth, looking for whatever it was that might have caused him to turn so suddenly. There was nothing but the darkness, the light of the stars, and the touch of the cold night wind in her long gold hair. At least nothing that her eyes could see. But her mind told her otherwise and she clutched a hand to the center of her chest, trying to hold in the frantic beating of her heart that made her ribs feel sore.

Minutes passed without a sound or the sight of anything strange and at last Charly resolved that whatever it was that had startled Henry, mountain lion or otherwise, she was not doing herself any favors by sitting on the ground waiting for it to come and find her. She stumbled up to her feet, dusting the dead grass off her shirt and pants and spinning around towards where the light of her house would be on the horizon.

            A dark shape had eclipsed that light, however, and Charly sucked in a sudden sharp gasp, frozen where she stood with the wind wild in her hair and her eyes as wide as milky green moons. The shape moved, making he gestures of what seemed to be a person, and she staggered back a step, mouth opening as if she might speak or scream, but she couldn’t find the thought to do either.

            “Are you all right?” A voice came from the figure and as soon as it spoke, she knew to whom it belonged. The tone of it was deep and masculine, skewed with a foreign flavor that might have been German. But from the way he spoke, he sounded as breathless and surprised as she felt.

            “I am,” She answered, finding her quiet voice amidst a riot of relief and suspicious fear. “Dr. Fuerst.”

            The shape of the man had been approaching but at the mention of that name, his name, it showed paused and seemed to falter. “You know me?”

            Charly nearly cried for the relief that made her legs feel unsteady and her head swoon. “I believe a lot of people might say they know you; a new neighbor doesn’t go unnoticed in a town this small.” She managed to speak despite how faint she felt, “But I will admit, I know only your name.”

             He didn’t move, not at first, but after a moment of consideration the shape of Dr. Fuerst came close enough that she could make him out through the dim starlight.

He was tall, far taller than she, with an angular and toned sort of frame. His face carried a grave sense of seriousness about it and was sharply featured with dark defined brows and a stern mouth. But Kim had not exaggerated his appeal and Charly doubted there were any women in Westcliffe that wouldn’t find him extremely handsome. Kim had been wrong on one account, however. Upon looking into his face and meeting the gaze of the man she’d heart so much about, she noticed his eyes were not dark. Not as Kim had described them. They were an eerie shade of silver, as colorless as the moon’s surface, and she shuttered at them and glanced quickly away. It was not so much their color that disturbed her, but rather the expression they held. It was a look of recognition, of knowing mixed with something as intense as obsession that made her uneasy. It was made all the more apparent by just how young he looked. Kim had not been exaggerating that fact and Charly felt she could agree that he couldn’t have passed for more than 24.

            “I offer my apologies if I frightened you.” He said, seeming sincere and keeping a careful distance of a few feet between them, which Charly appreciated immensely. “I was out for a walk and I heard the noise of your horse.”

            Charly swallowed, feeling the frayed ends of her nerves begin to smooth as he did not impose to touch her or make any threatening gesture towards her. In fact, his presence felt rather soothing and she glanced up again to meet his sterling gaze with more surety. It surprised him and his dark brows lifted slightly.

 “Thank you. You did scare me, a little.” She answered finally and slid one of her wool gloves off to offer him a hand to shake, “I’m Charlotte Montgomery. It’s good to meet you and finally put a face with a name.”

            He glanced down at her hand and back to her face, puzzled at first but finally accepting the gesture. He closed his own large hand around hers with a blazing sort of warmth that she didn’t expect. It was almost an unnatural heat.

“Dr. Randolf Fuerst.” He introduced himself, “But you may call me Randolf if you like.”

            “Randolf.” She said his name, finding it a little strange. It was definitely German. As she said it aloud, her eyes caught a twinge of what seemed like almost a fleeting hint of pain on his face. It made his jaw tense and the corners of his silver eyes become strained.

            He was quick to speak after that and Charly colored slightly, wondering if she had offended him with a crude attempt at pronouncing his name. Her voice was not so practiced at the foreign inflections. “I see your horse as left you.” He remarked and cleared his throat a little, looking away back over his shoulder to where the light of her house was like a warm yellow star in the distance.

            “I don’t know what got into him.” She resolved aloud, “I thought he might have smelled a mountain lion. He’s never acted like that before. But there’s nothing I can do about it tonight. I hope he has enough sense to go back home tonight or else I’ll have to find him out here tomorrow morning.”

            Randolf’s fierce expression dissipated as swiftly and faintly as it had arrived and he smiled slightly, brushing a hand through his lengthy dark hair to push it away from his eyes. “I don’t think you’d do well in finding him tonight.”

He sounded amused and put his large hands away into the pockets of the dress pants he wore. He did dress formally and it was a little strange. With only the white collar of a button down shirt peeking out from under a dark knit sweater, he wasn’t wearing much that might keep him warm. And yet his hand had felt so utterly warm. He was unaffected by all of the cold gusts of wind that blew through his dark hair, but Charly felt each one send pangs of cold like needle pricks to her bones even through all the layers she wore.

“I’d like to walk you home, if that would be all right?” He asked suddenly, his staggeringly beautiful face still showing faint traces of a distant smile, “I can’t very well let you walk all that way in the dark like this, if you believe there might be mountain lions about.”

Charly’s face flushed with color and she fidgeted with putting her wool glove back onto her bare hand. “Okay.” Was all she could manage to say.

“Good.” He sounded satisfied and turned towards the house, beginning a casual stroll across the sweeping grazing land. “I have heard the name Montgomery quite a bit since I came here. You’re father is quite the farmer, as I understand it.”

She followed him at first, gathering up the courage to walk beside him without stumbling or tripping. “Yes. Well, he wasn’t always a farmer but he has kept up what was my mother’s family farm since they were married. Bellamy Farms has been passed down in her family for generations.”

Randolf nodded, keeping a steady pace with his strange silver eyes fixed on the light of the farmhouse on the horizon. “I see. Do you have any siblings, then?”

Charly glanced up at him, eager to catch a glimpse of his face as he peppered her with questions. “No. It’s just me.”

“And you’re how old?” He probed further.

“I’m 21.”

He paused a little at that, seeming a little perplexed by the slight crinkle of one of his dark brows. “Shouldn’t you be in college?”

She smiled at herself, embarrassed at her own antics and let out a heavy sigh in an effort to purge her mind of nerves and anxiety.  “I have a hard time believing that I’m interesting enough for you to ask so many questions about me.”

He looked down at her then, obviously taken a little aback. “Why shouldn’t you be? You’re the first person here that I’ve gotten to talk to.” It seemed a good enough reason but his strange colorless eyes betrayed him. There was something else about her that held his interest. Something she doubted he would mention.

“I guess.” She conceded and slid her gloved hands into the back pockets of her jeans while she walked beside him, “Okay, then. I just didn’t want to go college.”

“Why not?” He pressed further, looking back at the horizon.

Charly was silent for several moments, nothing but the crunching of the dead, frozen grass beneath their shoes to fill the void. “I just didn’t want to.” She said at last, lacking a level of certainty that might have been more convincing.

“You’re married then? Or soon to be?” he was quick to ask.

She nearly laughed out loud, managing to constrain herself to a small chuckle, “No. Absolutely not.”

His eyes narrowed and his jaw shifted, obviously a little vexed. “You have a job in the town, then? Or you work on your family’s farm?”

“No.” She admitted, beginning to sense his realization at what a vague, pointless life she led. At least it must have seemed that why to an onlooker. “My father doesn’t let me work on the farm. Not since I was in high school.”

His questions subsided then for several minutes and Charly tilted her head back into the oncoming wind, feeling the cold against her cheeks and neck. The stars were innumerable overhead, scattered across a flawlessly clear sky by the thousands. Here there was no smog, no city lights to deter them.

“What do you do then?” He asked at last, sounding a little exasperated and taking a quick look down at her with flustered curiosity.

Unable to produce a convincing lie or clever deterrent, Charly looked up at him and shrugged her slender shoulders. “I don’t know. Nothing terribly interesting. I think about leaving, a lot.”

“Where would you go?” He was interested now, or even more so rather, and continued to look down at her to meet her gaze with a puzzled one of his own.

“Somewhere else.” She answered as truthfully as she knew how, holding the eye contact with him effortlessly, “I’ve never been anywhere. I’ve never seen anything or been any place else, so it doesn’t really matter where. I think I’d like to see the ocean. To lie in the sand.”

He smiled strangely, “Somewhere warmer, then?”

“Not necessarily.” She insisted, a certain tone of desperation coming into her voice. It made his expression skew once more into something slightly stricken and pained. “Just somewhere else. Somewhere different.” Charly offered him a tentative, embarrassed smile and looked back to where they were drawing nearer to her house. “I’m sure you’ve seen lots of places. You’re from Germany, aren’t you?”

Randolf was still looking at her and she could feel the burning pressure of his eyes on her. It broke only after she’d asked him a question of her own and he cleared his throat a little, “Yes, well, that was a long time ago.”

“The accent stuck, though.” She grinned, feeling easy enough to make a small playful jab at him.

He laughed a little, to her surprise, and she found it to be a very pleasing sound. “Old habits.” He said in a meager excuse.

“It’s my turn to ask you a barrage of questions.” Already her mind was working over a few she might get him to answer, so long as she had his attention entirely to herself.

He smirked slightly at that, “Please do.”

“What kind of doctor are you?” She decided to ask.

“Hm.” Randolf seemed a little surprised that that should be her first choice, “Well, one of many trades I suppose. I specialize both in general practice and in trauma-based surgery for the ER.”

            It was odd, she thought, even with as little as she knew about medical practices. “That’s a pretty big difference.”

            “It gives me a wide client base,” He explained, “And I enjoy the predictability and stability of general practice. But working in trauma is stimulating and challenging. I’d like to think I get the best of both worlds.”

            Satisfied with that, she asked him her next question. “I’ve heard you’re working Canon City. So why not live there? It’s a really long drive from here.”

            He quirked his mouth a little, his expression reading that he hadn’t really considered it in that way before. “Well, I inherited Dervyshire Park from a relative several months ago and when I came to see it, I found I rather liked it. I decided to stay and was fortunate enough to find a place to work nearby. I will only work a few days out of the week so the drive won’t be bothersome.”

            It made sense and Charly nodded slightly, “It’s a pretty house. People here used to think it was haunted, but it looks like those rumors will have to die down now that someone is living there.”

            Randolf laughed again, “I haven’t seen any sign of spirits in it so far. But I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”

            Their conversation flowed so easily and readily that Charly felt they’d crossed the long distance to her house in only a few minutes. She’d been so captivated that she hadn’t even noticed the cold or the growling hunger in her stomach. His presence was enchanting and comfortable and Charly felt herself becoming very fond of it almost immediately.

“It’s an awfully big place for one person.” She suggested carefully, wondering if Kim had been right about him living there with only his niece. It was hard to believe that someone like him could have been single still.

            “I won’t be entirely alone there. My niece has been living with me for several years and she moved here with me as well. She’s quite a bit younger than you, though, so I’m not sure how much you’ll see of her. I intend on seeing to it that she goes to the high school.” He answered readily, as if he’d been anticipating that turn of conversation, “Her name is Katia. Katia Vaughn.”

            At the back of their house, Charly began to feel the impending pressure that befell her whenever Sam was here. The knowledge that he was inside her house made her reluctant to go anywhere near it, but as they approached the front door, she became increasingly filled with dread. Arriving on their broad front porch, she stopped at the door and turned slightly to look back up at Randolf who had followed her and was standing readily behind her.

Under the revealing light of their porch, she was able to see more of his face and the details of him. His skin was a dark, pleasing bronze color and his eyes were framed in dark lashes. His feathery dark hair was as black as obsidian and there was not a single blemish or scar that she could see. His sweater fit his leanly muscled frame well and gave subtle attention to the definition in his chest. He was muscled well enough and his clothes, while a little formal and monotone, were not without a sense of casual style.

            It made her utterly self-conscious of her own windswept look. Dressed in her old ratty riding clothes, her curly dark gold hair wild from being teased in the night air, and her faintly freckled skin, she felt deliciously inadequate and immediately unworthy that he should be seen with her even by her own family.

            “Thank you.” She spoke at last, her voice hushed with the onset of humility. “It was nice of you to walk me here, really do I appreciate it.”

            He shrugged lightly, standing before her with his hands still deep in the pockets of his black dress pants. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad to have met you, Miss Charlotte.” By the way he lingered in awkward, shifting silence, she could sense that he was reluctant to leave just yet. As if there was something else he wanted to say.

            “I’d invite you in for coffee, but I realize it’s late and you probably want to go back home.” She didn’t want to shove him off her porch, but the idea of him coming in to see her humble dwellings and, god forbid, her mother was altogether horrifying.

            “I don’t mind.” He answered and Charly tried desperately not to let her mortification show, “Katia gets along well enough without me. I’d like some coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble. I don’t want to impose on you, though, if you should like to be rid of me.”

With as much courage as she could muster, Charly smiled and nodded as convincingly as she knew how and opened the door to let him in. The house was in no less of a wreck than it had been when she left. Her mother’s quilting mess was still scattered across the den floor and there were a collection of familiar duffle bags next to the staircase that belonged to Sam. Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen and neither was her father.

Mrs. Montgomery, however, stuck her head in from the kitchen with her shoulder cocked to press the phone to her ear. Charly felt all the color drain from her face as her mother’s expression went from annoyed to stunned and then to completely enthralled. She darted away into the kitchen without comment, barked a goodbye to whoever had been on the phone, and was hurrying across the den to meet the dark handsome stranger who followed her daughter into their house.

“Mom, this is Dr. Randolf Fuerst,” Charly said, visibly tense, “he and his niece are the ones who’ve moved into Dervyshire. I ran into him while I was riding.”

Randolf put on an irresistibly charming smile and nodded to her, displaying perfect white teeth. “A pleasure.”

Mrs. Montgomery was beside herself and seized his hand even before he’d finished offering it to shake it earnestly, “What a pleasure to finally meet you! You should have come to meet us sooner! It’s rude to be so conspicuous in such a small town.”

Charly’s mortification was instantly justified and her green eyes closed slowly; hoping that she’d somehow misheard what her mother had said.

“My apologies, Mrs. Montgomery,” He didn’t seem affected by it and continued to smile. At least he was a good sport. “It’s been quite a mess getting everything moved and the house ready to be lived in, but you’re right. There’s no excuse for my not making myself known sooner. I hope I’ll afford everyone less mystery from now on.”

Her mother was charmed immediately and batted her eyes like a fool, beginning into senseless chatter about the people in Westcliffe he’d have to be sure to meet and where the best restaurants were. All the while Charly stood by, silent and unmoving like a picture on the wall, and waited in breathless horror for the conversation to end.

Randolf was gracious beyond reason and indulged her mother to answer anything she asked and to assure her he’d make a point to follow her instructions about whom he should meet and where he should eat. He smiled and stood straight, keeping his hands in his pockets and seeming completely at ease until at last he offered his apologies again and announced he needed to return home. They had never even come close to having coffee.

Mrs. Montgomery was unstoppably intense until Charly shut the front door behind them, closing her mother off and leaving herself and Randolf alone on the front doorstep again.

She could hardly look up to see him for how embarrassed she was and instead studied the top of her riding boots. “I…am so sorry about that, Randolf.” She said at last, fully expecting that her mother’s nonsense had probably forever maimed his good opinion of her.

“She doesn’t get out very much, does she?” He chuckled softly.

“None of us do.” Charly mumbled, her face burning with humiliation. “But that’s still not an excuse.”

“It will do for me.” He was smiling, she could hear it in his voice even before she blinked, eyes wide, and looked up to see his face again. She caught only the tail end of that smile and suddenly there was something quite different written in the lines and handsome features of his visage. “I realize this is awkward, Miss Charlotte. Maybe it is entirely too soon. You may feel entirely certain that it won’t offend me if you say no. But I’d like to have your phone number, if that’s all right. I’d like to see you again once things have calmed down and my time is my own.”

Charly blinked once, twice, and was unable to speak for her surprise. She could hardly recover herself enough to speak and watched in silent, slack-jawed shock as he took a sleek black cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open, his silver eyes illumed by the screen as they stared at her expectantly.

“I…Uh.” She stumbled over her words, her throat dry and her mind entirely blank. Caught between confusion, surprise, and utter disbelief, she couldn’t remember her own phone number. In that moment, something popped into her head that made her pause and she was finally able to close her mouth and think coherently. “Randolf, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Now it was his turn to look stunned and his dark brows furrowed a bit, “What do you mean?”

Charly took a step back from him, towards her own front door, but never took her eyes off of his. “I’m not trying to be cruel. In fact, I’m doing you a favor.”

“I don’t understand.” He began to look upset, maybe even a little angry.

“I have every reason to believe that there is no way I could keep your interest, Randolf. I’m very aware of my social standing and how different it is from yours. Getting involved beyond being acquaintances or casual friends would only cause unnecessary complications.”

He was completely silent, his gray eyes full of churning thoughts that she was thankful she couldn’t hear. How insulted and angry he must have been.

“I’m not trying to offend you.” She added quickly, “Whatever it is about me that you could find interesting would never been enough to justify being more than friends. I’m just not that caliber of woman. If you want to see me again, I’m easily found. There aren’t enough people here for me to disappear completely.” The words came with surprising ease and she paused a moment to swallow and breathe before she continued. “I think we can agree that any attraction you might feel for me here is simply from the lack of options. At the risk of sounding blunt; I’m not interested in being led into dreams of things that can never be.”

“Charlotte,” He started, his hand slowly closing his phone and holding it tightly at his side. He started but he never finished and fell silent again, obviously thinking it over before he finally spoke again. His expression was something she had no title for. It was complex and profound beyond her ability to understand it and it made her uneasy. “I will ask for your friendship, then, and be satisfied with it.”

A lump situated itself in her throat and prevented her from responding right away. A mixture of relief, nervous anxiety, and intense regret made it difficult to say anything else. “Okay.” She finally answered, attempting a smile that was only half hearted. “See you later, then.”

He nodded sharply, nothing smiling or even slightly pleased on his fiercely handsome face, “Goodnight, Miss Charlotte.”

As soon as Charly was safely behind the door, the lock thrown, and enough time had lapsed that she was certain he must be gone, she made an insistent dash towards her bedroom. Halfway across the den and almost to the stairs, the opening of the back door and an excited noise from her mother made her pause long enough to see Sam and her father coming in. They had most likely been in the barn and the excitement in her mother’s voice explained that this was the first time she’d gotten to really welcome him back into their house.

 Sam hadn’t changed at all and was still sandy-haired and blue eyed. He was still only a little taller than her and had dimples in his cheeks and styling gel in his hair.

He looked up at her and smiled broadly, open admiration written all over him. His face was staggeringly different from Randolf’s, having a rounded babyish appeal to it like one of the boy-band singers on TV. He dressed like a city boy too; nice blue jeans with a polo, and Charly felt herself go rigid at his approach.

“Hi Charly.” He greeted her, coming through the kitchen towards her and stopping when he seemed to sense that he wasn’t welcome to come much closer. She was like a cornered rattlesnake with her tail vibrating, warning of her tongue’s eminent venom.

“Hi Sam.” She managed, though she couldn’t smile back at him. Her talent at lying wasn’t practiced enough to fool him that she was glad to see him.

“Did you have a good ride?” He asked innocently.

Charly barely heard him, her attention drawn to the whispering of her parents who were openly pleased to see that Sam still seemed to like their daughter. It made her feel sick and she turned away, hand keeping a firm grip on the stair railing, “It was fine.” She said and paused, glancing past Sam to her father. “Dad, Henry bucked me. He ran off and I couldn’t catch him.”

Her father was surprised and shook his head, “Well, I’m not going to look for him tonight. I’ll deal with it in the morning. Why did he buck you?”
            Charly pressed her lips together, hardly able to form a cohesive sentence or hear herself over Sam’s puppy-eyed infatuation as he stared at her relentlessly. Her attempts to openly ignore him were made difficult by his noisy stares of concern and adamant interest. “I don’t know.” She mumbled, teeth pressed together against the desire to scream at Sam and demand to know what he was staring at. “I think he smelled something. Maybe a mountain lion.”

Her father made a grumbling noise and she didn’t tarry to hear him say anything else. She could stand no more of it. Without comment or second glance, Charly darted up the stairs and to the privacy of her bedroom and locked the door, finally able to exhale deeply and stagger to her bed. On the way she peeled off the layers of her riding clothes down to her camisole and underwear, leaving a trail of clothing from the door to the bed before she flopped down and dug herself into the sheets.

There she was finally able to think, to process, and stared at her empty walls for what felt like hours. Any other young woman might have gone into the throws of teary regret for having turned down Randolf’s attempt at starting some sort of casual pretence to a relationship with her. But Charly was confident in her decision and after a few shaky breaths, was able to feel good about what she’d said to him. A man of his status would never be satisfied with someone like her. To even entertain that idea was utterly foolish and Charly applauded herself for having been wise enough not to be stolen away by his charm and the idea that she might be enough for him.

Finally resolved enough to tell the story, she slipped from her bed quickly and rummaged through her clothes on the floor to find her cell phone and return to her nest of quilts with it.

            Her fingers punched in Kim’s number eagerly, sending her a text message that read simply, “Need to talk asap tomorrow.”

            She stared at the glowing screen, waiting for a response. The phone buzzed in her hand several minutes later with Kim’s reply. “OK, U ALL RIGHT?”

            Her fingers tapped at the buttons, hurrying through another message, “Yes. Met Dr. Fuerst. Long story.”

            It didn’t take Kim even a minute to answer and it made Charly smile widely. “WAT?? COME TO PT TOMORROW MORNING!”

            “Ok. See you then.” Charly answered one last time, not so quick as her friend in replying but she wasn’t nearly as practiced as Kim was at texting. She shut her phone and set it on the nightstand, plugging it into the charger and flicking off her light. Instantly her room became dark. Nothing but the moon and glittering stars cast their faint silver light through her window and drew vague shadows across the floor and she lay, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling.

Sleep did not come easily, unfortunately, but she wasn’t kept away by the mumblings of her parents from their room below. It was Randolf’s strange silvery eyes that stirred her, made her toss and turn and entangle herself in her sheets. At some late hour, those memories bled into restless dreams and her weary mind surrendered to sleep, easily taken captive by the sterling depths of his smile.

Author's Note

(Content not edited)

Reviews

[WhiteWolf]

Your character developments are impressive, as is your storytelling prowess. Most entertaining indeed, which is a key asset lacking in most.