Lady Gouldian

by Read, Calia

  Every weekend seemed reasonable. But it only made me wonder, would I come home every weekend?

  “What dorm are you in?”

  “Stratson Hall. Room fifteen,” I immediately answered.

  Étienne nodded. “Miles and I are there.”

  Livingston raised a finger. “I’m in Watlyn Hall with Beau.”

  I felt a bit of hope grow inside me the longer I stood with these two boys.

  Étienne began to walk. Livingston fell into step with him. When I didn’t follow, Étienne stopped and nudged his head toward the buildings. “Come with us. I will show you our dorms.”

  And so I did…

  As I came back to the present, a very faint smile pulled at the corners of my lips. Not once did they turn their backs on me. They didn’t look at me like everyone else did. Étienne and Livingston took me in, and so did their parents. My own parents didn’t care much for that. The first two months they didn’t come see me or send for me to come home. Étienne and Livingston received permission from their parents and mine that I could go home with them. My world changed after that. However, my momma’s face would contort as though she had smelled something rancid when I mentioned the Lacroixs, and my father mumbled ugly words underneath his breath about their father.

  When I was younger, I believed they didn’t like Étienne and Livingston because of the time they visited our home when I was twelve. We ran through the sitting room and the ashes of Momma’s recently departed and beloved cat tipped over. I knew she would be devastated, so Livingston suggested cigars. It seemed simple enough; we watched our own fathers do it all the time. We stole a box of my father’s cigars, snuck out into the garden and smoked as many as we could. Momma caught us halfway through the cigar box. Étienne was sick in the bushes. I wasn’t too far behind him. Livingston hovered over the cat’s urn, furiously puffing away.

  When I was older, I discovered it went much further than childhood influence. My father once confessed to me that he was almost engaged to be married to Charlotte, but before they ever had the opportunity to be together, Charlotte met Adrien.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if the name Lacroix means nouveau in French,” my father spat. “The family is nothin’ but filth.”

  Even so, I was never forbidden from seeing Étienne or Livingston, or ever visiting them.

  I approached the Lacroix House. It was still hard to reconcile that Livingston was now living here. Before, he occupied an apartment bigger than most homes in Charleston. When their grandma Lacroix recently passed away, she placed the Lacroix House in a trust for Étienne, Livingston and Nat. Now that Livingston lived in the Lacroix House, it made work for me and Étienne much easier, it was a simple walk from my home and even from my parents’. But someday, Étienne and I wouldn’t have to work from home, we would have our own office.

  Someday.

  I stepped into the Lacroix House, without stopping to look around. Almost all the furniture stayed in the house while Livingston made himself comfortable, turning the home into his own bachelor paradise. The only remnants from his past that he refused to let go of was a painting of his entire family. He and Étienne were teens, Julian was a young boy and Nat was a little girl. She was standing beside her momma, with her dark hair in ringlets and her hazel almond-shaped eyes staring straight ahead. She wore an expression of awe and wonder as though the world around her was filled with magic and perfection.

  The awe had left her eyes since the passing of her parents and brother.

  I strode down the narrow hallway, following the sound of Étienne and Livingston’s voices. Anticipation coursed through me; I was ready to shrug off my encounter I had with my parents and focus on business. It was the perfect distraction.

  When I entered the sitting room, neither Étienne nor Livingston appeared shocked by my arrival. Livingston was sitting in one of the chairs, a drink in hand. Étienne was sitting in the settee, paperwork scattered across the elegant coffee table.

  “Hello, Asa,” Étienne said, without lifting his gaze from the paper in front of him.

  “Good evenin’. Are we ready to work?”

  “Is he ready to work?” Livingston repeated with a laugh, before he shook his head. “Does tea come from China?” he asked rhetorically.

  Étienne waved away Livingston’s statement and gestured to the settee across from his. “Sit.”

  I began to make myself comfortable when I noticed a small figure beside Étienne. “Oh, hello, Nat.”

  “Hello.” Nat’s gaze quickly met mine before it darted away. She slouched in the settee beside Étienne, methodically picking at the ends of her long dark hair.

  At that moment, Étienne glanced at her. He shook his head and sighed deeply. “Sit up.”

  Nat glowered at Étienne in a way I’d never seen before from her. What happened to my sweet little Nat?

  Dropping her hair, she sat up straight, crossing her bony arms, and stared stubbornly ahead. “Can I go to the library?”

  Étienne regarded her for a long moment. “For what?”

  “Well, my guess is to read. What’s your suggestion, Asa?” Livingston chimed in.

  At that, Nat reluctantly smiled. Étienne mumbled rapid French beneath his breath and flung his hand toward the door. “Fine. Go.”

  Nat’s feet landed on the floor with a solid thud that was so loud Livingston and I jerked in unison. As for Étienne, he silently glowered at his little sister’s retreating figure.

  Rather than hearing her walk up the stairs to the library, the front door slammed shut.

  I looked between Étienne and Livingston with confusion. “Does someone care to explain Nat’s behavior?”

  “She’s twelve but believes she’s twenty-two, that’s her behavior,” Étienne muttered as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The death of Julian and our parents struck Nathalie much harder than I could have ever imagined.”

  “I would imagine so,” I said. “She’s just a child.”

  Étienne dangled his hands between his legs. His shoulders became slumped. Moments passed without him saying a word, but he didn’t need to. His defeat was palpable. Then, he lifted his head, and sighed. “I believed if she remained with me, we would be okay, but I’m beginnin’ to have doubts. Perhaps Aunt Christine was right. Maybe Nathalie should have gone back to New York to live with her.”

  At once, I shook my head. My loyalty belonged with Étienne and his siblings. Breaking them apart didn’t sit well with me, no matter the situation. “Absolutely not. She needs to stay here.”

  “I would have agreed with you a year ago. But we lost Papi last year and Mamie this summer. She’s experienced more loss than most people will their entire lives.” Abruptly, he stopped talking and stared at his hands. “Nat needs stable support surroundin’ her. Not two men in their early twenties, and I’m not a lady! I don’t know how to proceed when she’s upset. Maybe it’s best if she stays with Aunt Christine.”

  Before anyone could say a word, Nat stepped out of the doorway shadows. My God, when did the girl come back inside? “I will not go to New York!” Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. At once, Étienne sat up straight. She looked between the three of us, and then lingered on me. As though I was the one to speak the words and betrayed her.

  I had no iron in the fire. I didn’t know Étienne harbored these thoughts.

  With a groan of frustration, her eyes welled up with tears. Nat turned and stormed out of the room, leaving us utterly baffled. We looked at each other, puzzled as to what we should do next.

  “Mon Dieu, donne-moi la force,” Étienne muttered.

  “One of us should speak with her,” Livingston offered, although he looked as though he would rather face a firing squad than speak with his younger sister.

  I didn’t have siblings, and I was about as skilled with words as Étienne, but Nathalie appeared rather upset when she left. It seemed wrong not to check on her.

  “I think Asa should go,” Livingston blurted.


  Immediately, I veered back as though my name was selected to fight a bear. “Why me?”

  “Because she gets stars in her eyes when you enter a room, that’s why. She’ll listen to what you have to say,” Étienne said.

  With that reply, Livingston readily nodded. I looked between the brothers. I knew of Nat’s innocent infatuation with me. I’d known for years. Livingston, Étienne, and Miles were relentless in their badgering, saying the only woman who would ever fall in love with me was eleven years my junior.

  I took their remarks in stride. I’d much rather it be me they teased than Nathalie. Everyone has fallen prey to puppy love, and she was a sweet girl. Nat would be crushed if she knew of the teasing. Soon enough, her infatuation would lose its intensity. Those stars would dim, and soon, as she grew older, they would fade.

  I was certain of it.

  “Fine. I’ll talk to her,” I said.

  The relief in the brothers’ faces was instantaneous. My apprehension began to grow. It was only made worse when Livingston clapped me on the back. “Wonderful. Thank you. She’s likely in the garden. That’s where she’s been spendin’ most of her time as of late. If we don’t hear from you in five minutes, it was nice knowin’ you.”

  I waited for Livingston to laugh, but he didn’t, and Étienne was solemnly nodding. Slowly, I stood. I thought everyone was being quite melodramatic for no reason. Nat was unmistakably upset, but she was twelve. How bad could she be?

  I walked outside, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I looked around the garden, and just as Livingston said, I found her. She was sitting on a swing. The long ropes of the swing travelled up to a sturdy branch of a live Oak tree.

  Nat didn’t see me approach. Her gaze was fixed on the well-worn ground in front of her where several feet before her had repeatedly pushed against the ground to swing higher than the time before. Well, most kids.

  Nat had no intention of swinging her blues away, but it was clear whatever she was thinking of wasn’t helping. What could I say that would make her feel better?

  I cleared my throat and stepped off the path. “You left the room quite suddenly.”

  With a jerk, Nat lifted her head. Her wide eyes blinked rapidly before she quickly looked away. “I’m sorry. I-I was upset.”

  “Because of New York?” I asked because Nat appeared distraught before New York was mentioned. Was that all that was bothering her?

  At the mention of New York, her eyes flashed. Her feet landed on the ground with a resounding thud. “I’m not goin’ there. Did my brothers send you out here to speak with me or to change my mind? Because it won’t work.”

  “No, no. No one sent me out here,” I lied. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  A bit of her anger drained from her eyes. “Oh.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”

  With my hands linked behind my back, I approached. “No need to be sorry. You’re upset and justly so.”

  She appeared shocked by my words but didn’t reply. We stood there quietly for several seconds before I broke the silence. “Do you understand your brothers believe they’re doin’ what’s best for you, right?”

  “It’s not, though!” she protested in a fierce tone that only descendants of the Lacroix name held.

  “I love my aunt,” she confessed quietly.

  “Absolutely. No one said you didn’t.”

  “But New York City? It’s far too big.” Nat frowned, deep in thought. “And stinks!” she said as an afterthought.

  “One could argue that Charleston doesn’t smell all that pleasant when Low Tide rolls in.”

  Nat waved my words away. “No, that’s a welcomin’ scent. New York City is bad, and I would never enjoy myself there.”

  Her justifications were unsound. It was almost as though she was blindly grasping for any reason she could that would direct me away from the truth.

  My head tilted to the side. “What is the real truth?”

  She blinked those big eyes at me. “I just told you.”

  “Nat,” I persisted.

  As she turned away, her nostrils flared. Rapidly she blinked, as though she was fighting back tears, and with her thoughts before, she abruptly looked back at me. “The train will take the same route,” she let slip.

  “Same route?” I frowned, trying to process her words. “Same route as—” At once, I stopped speaking. Ever so slightly, my eyes widened.

  “I don’t want to see where they died,” she confessed, her voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear her. “And I never want to be away from what family I have left.”

  I stood there silently for several minutes, unable to find the correct words. I couldn’t say I understood Nat’s pain. Not even a tenth of it because she lost so much. I knew her parents were loving and doted upon her. And Nat had a close relationship to Julian as well. He was remarkably similar to Livingston.

  I don’t have that type of relationship with my parents. I knew my mother loved me, but not enough to protect me. And I knew my father loved the idea of a son, and what the son could give. Just not the person behind the title, Son.

  Nat had a beautiful life, and it was cruelly taken away. I didn’t know what to say to make everything better. So I said nothing.

  “Even if I’m old enough, I won’t leave Belgrave,” Nat said, her voice resolute and firm as though she had given this great thought and made up her mind.

  Tilting my head to the side, I carefully regarded her. “Never?”

  Nat shook her head. “Never. It’s my home.”

  She said the word home as though it was sacred. A holy place that was part of her and nothing else would ever compare.

  “Of course, it’s your home, but it will be here waitin’ for you.”

  Once again, Nat shook her head, and a faint frown appeared between her brows. “Everythin’ I have is here.”

  “I understand. But don’t clip your own wings.”

  Nat leaned back ever so slightly. “What?”

  “Death makes everythin’ hard, right?”

  Tentatively, she nodded, cautiously waiting to hear what I had to say next.

  “This agony is temporary. And you don’t know when you’re meant to fly, or where, but you will. All right, Birdie?”

  Her hazel eyes widened as she slowly nodded. I believed she understood what I was saying, but she wore that expression around me quite often when I spoke to her. It was the infatuation of hers that prevented her from listening.

  Finally, she shook her head, almost as though she was hearing my words for the first time. “Birdie?”

  “Yes, Birdie. That shall be my nickname for you, so you will remember there’s always somethin’ better out there.”

  For quite some time, she thought over my words before she nodded and looked up at me. “A colorful bird?”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “Absolutely.”

  “Not a toucan,” she stated firmly.

  “I agree. Perhaps the Lady Gouldian finch? It’s a colorful bird from Australia.”

  Her eyes were wide. “And they’re pretty birds?”

  “Yes, very pretty.”

  “Then Lady Gouldian it is.”

  “Excellent.” I held my hand out and waited for her to accept. I would shake any man’s hand after coming to an agreement and although she was a young girl, I wanted her to know my words weren’t said in jest.

  She reached out and slipped her hand into mine. It was pale and small, so small clasped in mine. The juxtaposition was jarring, almost bordering on intimidating. Which was preposterous. I was a grown man. Nat was a child. But right then, she seemed so breakable, and if she was left in my care long enough, she was certain to break.

  But Nat’s trust was palpable, and I vowed to myself that I would take care of what was left of her heart and childhood. Her brothers would always care for her. But I would gladly be one more person to shield her. I have always felt a connection with Nat. She was an old soul like me. And whether the circumstances of life had
made her that way, I wasn’t certain. But that’s what always bonded the two of us. This small, slip of a child seemed to understand me better than most adults. Yet Nat was wiser beyond her years, kinder than most people deserved, and it seemed to me, that even as a little girl, she had managed to become the cornerstone for the surviving Lacroix siblings.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Of course.” I let go of her hand. “I should be gettin’ back inside. I have some work to do.” I stood, and with my hands on my hips, I peered at Nat’s small frame. “You’ll be all right?”

  She nodded, and even though a sadness remained in her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifted. I knew Nat would be okay. She would be a Lady Gouldian in the end.

  I walked back to the house, and when I opened the front door, Étienne and Livingston were waiting for me in the foyer.

  “Did you talk to her?” Étienne asked. Beside him, Livingston nodded.

  They resembled two young boys who were waiting for approval from a strict parent and not their little sister who was eleven years younger than them.

  “No. I pushed her on the swing, and then she pushed me. Afterward, we played a rivetin’ game of hopscotch.” Before I could finish my sentence, Livingston shoved my shoulder. Served them right for sending me out to speak to their sister. “Yes, I spoke with her.”

  “And?” Livingston persisted. “My God, Asa. Tell us!”

  “She wants to stay here with the both of you at Belgrave. She doesn’t want to leave her home.”

  The two of them continued to stare at me expectantly, as though I had more to say, and I did. But I didn’t want to say my words wrong. I told Nat I would speak to Étienne and Livingston about staying here and I meant that.

  “Did you explain to her our intent?” Étienne asked.

  “I told her you believed that her goin’ to New York would be what’s best for her.” I paused for a moment. “She’s aware you two are the only family she has left. She doesn’t want to lose that.”

  “She won’t,” Livingston immediately replied.

  “She doesn’t know that,” I countered. “So far life has shown her how swiftly the ones we love can be taken from us and that terrifies her. Nat even mentioned how if she went to New York, the train goes the same route as where the accident occurred.”