She stared at me to be sure I had finished.
“How wonderful,” she said finally. “And generous.”
“It’s God’s will,” I said. Corinne nodded quickly. “I expect you to act properly when he arrives. Make him feel at home. Remember that despite the fact that there are only three years between you, he is your half uncle and should be thought of in that manner.”
“It will be good to have someone in the house to talk to,” she said. “I mean someone who is not an adult yet,” she added quickly.
I knew what she really meant—someone who spoke of things other than God and gloom. “Nevertheless, he is practically an adult. Don’t distract him from his purpose.” Then I smiled. “Christopher was such a wonderful boy. I’m sure he’s grown into a delightful young man. I think the two of you will get along wonderfully,” I kissed her on the forehead. I didn’t blame her for her excitement. Foxworth Hall had become a large, empty house for her since the deaths of Mal and Joel. Christopher’s arrival brought the promise of new light and life, not only for her, but for me as well. I couldn’t help recalling the sweet child that he was, how polite and affectionate and thoughtful he was. Like Corinne, I was filled with happy anticipation.
Christopher arrived on a bright summer day, and it seemed as if the sun had followed him into the house. Alicia had passed away only a month before. John Amos had gone as our emissary and had handled the funeral arrangements, and after a proper mourning period, brought Christopher back with him.
I could remember Christopher only as a child along-side Mal and Joel, but the moment he entered Foxworth Hall, I saw that those handsome qualities he had inherited from Garland and those beautiful qualities he had inherited from Alicia had been developed and embellished. I saw something of Mal and something of Joel in him as well, and those characteristics endeared him to me.
He had grown into a tall, handsome man. When I saw him standing there in the sunlight, it was as if his golden hair were haloed by an aura of light. I sensed a gentle, beautiful temperament in him. He radiated an inner peace that warmed my heart.
He stood there wide-eyed, obviously not remembering much of Foxworth Hall. From what John Amos told me, I knew he came from a four-room cottage into this huge, grand house that dazzled him. He looked at Malcolm and me with such an expression of gratitude that I was actually embarrassed. He didn’t understand that half of this entire estate, indeed, half of Malcolm’s businesses, rightfully belonged to him.
Then I felt sorry for him, standing there, holding his two suitcases and gaping about. He wore shabby shoes and clothing that looked worn. I was about to direct John to take his things up to his room, when Corinne appeared on the staircase.
She had come running down the first half and then stopped abruptly in the middle. Christopher looked up at her. She had dressed in her prettiest light blue cotton dress. Her golden hair was washed and curled so that it gleamed richly.
I saw Christopher’s eyes sparkle with surprise and interest. My heart skipped a beat. Would they sense who they were to each other? Was there something in their blood that would signal their relationship? They both had that thick, flaxen blond hair and those cerulean blue eyes and that peaches-and-cream complexion. I looked at Malcolm quickly to note his reaction to his stepbrother. I saw the pleasure in his face as he read his own and Alicia’s lineage in Christopher’s face. He obviously approved of the young man before him.
I hesitated no longer.
“Christopher, welcome,” I said, stepping forward to him. “It is sadness and tragedy that brings you here, but hopefully you will find happiness and joy here with us in Foxworth Hall.” I wanted to embrace him, as I had when he was a child. But I stopped myself. After all, he was now a grown man, and practically a stranger to me.
“Thank you. …” I could see he was struggling for a way to address me. I was, after all, in his mind, his sister-in-law. “Olivia,” he finally said, and looked up at Corinne again.
“This is Corinne, our daughter. Corinne, come down and properly greet your uncle,” I said, stressing the word “uncle.” She brushed back a lock of her golden hair, rested her hand on her bosom, and drifted down the staircase with a radiant smile lighting her face.
“How do you do,” Christopher said, and extended his hand. Corinne took it and then looked at me quickly. I nodded as she greeted him and quickly released her hold on his fingers. Then we all looked to Malcolm.
“Christopher,” he began, “John Amos will take your things to your room and show you where you will reside. After you are finished unpacking, I would like you down in the library, where you and I will discuss your residence here and your college education,” Malcolm said in a most formal, cool tone.
It didn’t seem to discourage Christopher, however. He smiled that gentle, beautiful, trusting smile and thanked Malcolm. Then he allowed John Amos to lead him forward and up to his room in the north wing.
He paused at the center of the staircase as though just remembering something important, and turned back to look at Corinne, who stood there staring up at him. He smiled at her and continued on. Malcolm had already gone to the library.
I waited a moment and then turned to Corinne.
“Remember our discussion,” I said, hiding my own nervousness behind a mask of sternness. “He is your uncle,” I added, feeling the need to underline that deception strongly. “Don’t forget that.”
She looked at me with the oddest expression on her face.
“Why, of course I won’t forget it. Look how much we look alike,” she added in a happy voice, and hurried up the stairs after them.
17
Christopher Garland Foxworth
CHRISTOPHER BROUGHT A BURST OF LIGHT INTO OUR LIVES again. Corinne, John Amos, Malcolm, and I were drawn to him like moths, to the brightness of his golden hair, to his brilliant, radiant smile.
“Good morning, Olivia,” he would say upon joining me for breakfast, “don’t you look lovely this morning.”
“Don’t tease and flatter an old woman,” I would insist.
“Tease and flatter?” he would say, and his blue eyes filled with the purest light, a blue light found in the freshest mountain lakes. “I meant it from the bottom of my heart.” Then, with a boyish smile and a healthy appetite he would butter his blueberry pancakes and say, “Even as a little boy, Olivia, I remember you were the best cook. You always made cookies, the kind with raisins in them. You were always so kind to me.”
My heart would fill with a joy I’d forgotten could exist in this earthly life.
With Malcolm, Christopher could discuss the most intricate of business plans. “I’m not sure investment in public railroads is going to be the thing of the future,” Christopher would say. “I think it’s time to look to the heavens, sir. I think aviation will be the transportation of the future.”
“You mean to tell me that the common man will go flying around this great land of ours. I find that hard to believe, young man.”
“It’s already happening, sir. Why, look at how many companies are opening public stock options.” And Christopher would open The Wall Street Journal and I would see their blond heads bow over the paper as they read over the stocks.
“Why, son, I believe you might be right,” Malcolm would finally agree. “You have quite a business head on you. Are you sure you want to waste it on medicine?”
“Sir,” Christopher would say, “I want to help people, like my stepfather did.”
Even John Amos was impressed with the boy’s understanding of the scriptures. Far into the night they would go over passages, and discuss various interpretations. Christopher always saw the Lord as forgiving, while John insisted that He was vengeful as well.
But it was Corinne who was most mesmerized by this beautiful young man. She sought every opportunity to be with him. Only when I walked into the room and saw them sitting together on the sofa, whispering and laughing, did Corinne remember to pull away, drop Christopher’s hand, and heed my warning to tre
at him as she would treat an uncle. But it warmed me to see these two radiant children, children who brought such joy into gloomy Foxworth Hall, and I would fix them a pot of tea and bake them cookies, always remembering to put raisins in. I thought that Christopher had interminable patience when it came to Corinne’s constant questions about his past, even when she asked him things that might bring back painful memories. He seemed incapable of losing his temper. He was full of forgiveness and understanding, warmth and sympathy.
At one dinner Corinne asked Christopher about Alicia. Malcolm was at his usual seat at the head of the table, and I was at mine at the other end. Corinne now sat directly across from Christopher, who sat in what had been Mal’s seat. She had almost been late to dinner, taking so long deciding what to wear and how to fix her hair.
It was one of our warmest evenings of the summer, but Malcolm still wore his jacket and tie, as did Christopher. Malcolm would never admit to any discomfort. He maintained a cool, relaxed appearance, almost willing his body to behave. Although Christopher was uncomfortable, he did not say a word. There was absolutely no breeze outside, so nothing passed through our opened windows. All our ventilation came from the ceiling fans.
Corinne began by teasing Malcolm about his tightly knotted tie.
“Why don’t the two of you loosen your ties and take off your jackets,” she said. “I think it would be romantic.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. I had told Malcolm that she was spending too much time reading the fashion magazines and following the lives of the movie stars. More and more she behaved as if Foxworth Hall were a Hollywood set.
“We are not performing on some stage,” Malcolm retorted, recalling my complaints. I nodded in approval. “This is our dinner. I suggest you concern yourself with other matters than how the men in this house dress, Corinne.”
“Daddy can be so stuffy,” she said, smiling at Christopher, undaunted. He did not smile back, knowing well how Malcolm would have reacted. I knew she was showing off for Christopher. Although there was a look of pleasure in his eyes, he maintained his decorum. “Was it stuffy for you at dinner at your house, Chris?”
I raised my eyebrows. Chris? She caught my look of reprimand. You don’t shorten the Christian names of people older than yourself, I had told her.
“My father wanted us to dress properly for dinner,” he said. “I wouldn’t say he was stuffy, nor would I say your father is either,” Christopher replied diplomatically. Malcolm did not show his reaction, but I knew he was pleased.
“What about your mother? I know so little about her. She left with you shortly after I was born,” Corinne asked. Whenever Alicia’s name was mentioned, both Malcolm and I involuntarily stiffened. Oh, I worried so that somehow the truth would come out, that I would lose forever the love and affection of these two young people, who would never forgive us for the lie we had forced Corinne to live in. But it was for the best, I consoled myself, and there was no way they would ever guess; for indeed, who could ever guess such a deception?
“I don’t think we should be talking about Christopher’s mother over dinner,” I said quickly. “It can’t be very pleasant for him, considering the tragedy,” I added.
Corinne blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s all right. But Olivia is right,” Christopher said. He quickly asked Malcolm a question about one of his mills and the subject was dropped, but the tension lingered in the air between Corinne and myself for the remainder of our meal. She hated how I had made her look cruel to Christopher, but it was the quickest way I could think of to end the topic. I was just as reluctant to discuss Alicia in front of Corinne as was Malcolm. Later I overheard Christopher assure her that she had not offended him. They were walking in the hallway toward the east patio. She did not know that I was close enough to hear their conversation.
“My mother can be very cold at times,” she told him. “She is so exasperating,” she added, fluttering her eyelashes. Christopher laughed.
“You must not judge your mother so harshly, Corinne,” he told her. “What she said, she said only to protect me. She was concerned for my feelings,” he added in a tone of voice that suggested a teacher-student relationship. I thought he was doing well in his effort to keep Corinne in her place, and I was proud of him for it.
The next morning Christopher came to me on that same east patio. I was enjoying the humid, overcast day because there was a comfortable breeze. As he walked toward me, I saw a look of seriousness furrow his brow, though he smiled and greeted me warmly. “Good morning, Olivia, may I sit down?” I put down my needlepoint as he sat beside me. I knew he had something on his mind, and for a moment I froze in fear, so afraid he would ask me endless questions about Alicia and why she had left here. I hated lying to Christopher, it seemed so unfair; yet what would he think of me, of Malcolm, of Alicia, even of himself if he knew the truth?
“You look like you have something on your mind, Christopher,” I said warily. “What is it?”
“Olivia,” Christopher began, a look of sweetness crossing his face. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what you and Malcolm are doing for me. It’s so wonderful here. I feel as if I’ve found a second home—and so quickly after I lost my mother. And thank you for understanding that it’s difficult for me to talk about her. Last night at dinner, I felt you understood me so well, and then, when I was thinking about it later, I realized why. For you’ve suffered a loss, perhaps even greater than mine. I know children expect their parents to die; but I can’t imagine how horrible it is to lose both your sons.” He reached over and took my hand.
“I have hesitated speaking about Mal and Joel because I know how painful it is for you. But I feel that we can share that pain. Oh, I remember Mal, so serious and so adult. I remember when I was here with them, and they treated me like a brother. And really, when my mom was away all those months, you were a mother to me, and I loved you so. I never forgot that. And now I have lost my mother and you have lost your sons. But we can have each other now, can’t we? I mean, isn’t it as if I have found a mother and you have found another son? Can we be like that, Olivia? I always wanted brothers and sisters and used to complain to Mom about that. But whenever I asked for one, she’d look so upset, and start twisting her fingers. I don’t know why, she’d never explain to me. But I feel as if I’ve truly found a second family. And I adore Corinne, she sure is going to be a beautiful woman! You’ve raised her so well—she’s so sweet and charming, and really fun to be with. You know, I really don’t mind at all the way she seeks me out. It’s very flattering. And nothing would honor me more than to be a real brother to Corinne, and if you’ll let me, to be a son to you.”
“Thank you, Christopher,” I said. I felt the warmth and respect in his eyes. Oh, this young man touched me more than I could ever tell him. How strange it was, strange and odd that I’d lost my own two children but had been given Alicia’s. And I vowed I would take care of them, and protect them. Even though they were almost adults, we truly were a family, the sort of family I’d dreamed of—beautiful, loving children with the world at their feet. “There is nothing I’d like more, Christopher, than for you to consider yourself my son. I’m honored, really I am.”
Christopher smiled, his handsome face filled with love and interest.
“I wish my mother had never left Foxworth Hall. I wish I had thousands more memories of Mal and Joel. I wish that I had had the opportunity to know them as we all grew up, but I realize all that is in the past and there is no point to resurrect it. My mother told me so little about our life here. But we can make new memories now, can’t we, Olivia?”
Christopher looked down and then up at me with those blue Foxworth eyes, his warmer, deeper, richer. “I’m going to make you so proud of me, Olivia.”
His sweetness, his love, was so moving, it brought tears to my eyes. I had known so little love in my life, but I believed Christopher really did love me, love me as if I were his mother. A lump was lodged in my throat, and I could t
ell Christopher knew how sincerely he had moved me. I smiled and patted his soft hand.
“Christopher,” I began, “if you achieve what you have set out to achieve, you will bring me the kind of pride and happiness only a mother can have for a son. I feel honored that you have these feelings now.” I looked away quickly because my heart was beating fast and I felt my tears about to flow.
I couldn’t help but think of Mal and Joel and the mother-son talks we used to have. All that had been taken away from me, and now, suddenly, some of it was returned. As if to comfort me, the warm breeze caressed my face and the long, billowy cloud that had covered the sun moved on. There was warmth all about me, but most important, there was warmth in my heart.
“I will do my best,” Christopher said. He leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek. The warmth of his lips on my cheek remained after he got up. I swallowed my urge to cry and turned back to him only when he started away. I watched him go to the house and then I looked up and saw John Amos standing by a second story window, looking down at us. He had his hands behind his back and his body seemed to cast a deep, heavy shadow.
I began to notice how John Amos kept watching Christopher. He would appear out of nowhere, hovering in a doorway, emerging from a shadow. He seemed to be observing him, looking for something in Christopher. With his eyes like inquisitive, probing scalpels, he sought to slice out a hint, a sign, a clue. Whenever Malcolm and Christopher did have a conversation and John Amos was nearby, he scrutinized Christopher like a spy sent from some distant land filled with suspicion. For a while he said nothing about him, and then one day about a week after my conversation with Christopher on the patio, he came to the door of the front salon while I was reading.
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