by Leen Elle
"Err . . !" Nathaniel slammed his fists upon the bed, frustrated beyond belief but unable to express his fury in such a pathetically weak body, "It's true! You wouldn't care if I died! I know you wouldn't! I don't fit into your silly, idealistic plans so you'd rather I was just wiped out this very instant! And frankly, I wouldn't mind either. What am I living for? Honestly! I'm not living to yell at foolish doctors or to be taken care of by frivolous, worrying nurses! And I'm sure as hell not living for my family! Honestly! What am I living for anymore?"
"Nathaniel . . ."
"I might as well just overdose, swallow a handful of those pills, and kill myself right now! Suicide is a most appealing option when you consider . . ."
"You're talking like a lunatic! You could never kill yourself, you know that!"
"No, Gail! No, actually I don't! I don't see why I couldn't! It'd all be over in a matter of minutes and it couldn't be any more painful then all the misery I've gone through in the past!"
"Nathaniel!"
"Although I do like this constant game of 'How Long Till Nathaniel West Croaks?'! We've gotten through nineteen years so far, let's see if I can make another five!"
"Who's to say you shan't live till you're eighty?"
"I'm not daft enough to even consider a life beyond thirty!"
"You can't just give up so easily! You can't just let all this go to waste!"
"Why should you care? You don't give a damn about me!"
"But I do!"
"Gail!" Nathaniel shouted her name at the top of his lungs, his voice growing hoarse by this time. Letting out a huge breath and lowering his voice a bit, he said as calmly and rationally as he could manage, "I hope you have a goddam merry Christmas and a happy New Year too, Gail St. James. But I'm not staying. I can't be here anymore."
"But I want you to stay!"
Nathanel's fury returned, "No you don't, Gail! Stop lying!"
"I'm not lying!"
"You are! You feel sorry for me! You think I'm poor and pitiful and you feel bad letting . . ."
"I want you to stay and that's the truth!" Gail shouted, "I'm sorry if you don't believe it but it's true! And if you'd rather go back to the hospital than stay here then that's your choice! But I've asked you to stay and you needn't let your pride get in the way of accepting the offer! Why would you spend your holidays in a desolate hospital room when the Lindseys would be happy to let you stay here for as long as you like? I'm not in love with you, Nathaniel, and you know that! I wouldn't lie to you! But I do care for you, despite what you may think, and I do wish you would stay!"
"Jesus Christ! Stop feeling sorry for me, Gail! I've spent my holidays alone for years so this one would be no different!"
"But if you had the chance, wouldn't you rather . . ."
"I'd rather not feel as if I was invading on the privacy of this family because everyone in it looks at me with pity in their eyes!"
"What do you expect? What do you want us to do? It's a natural, human reaction to feel sorry for someone who's sick, especially someone as sick as you! I'm sorry if you don't like it but that's life! You should be used to it by now after all these years!"
"That doesn't mean I have to like it!"
"Why can't you just accept our kindness and be happy!"
"Because you don't know what it's like! You don't know what it's like when everyone feels sorry for you!"
"Nathaniel, please!"
"I'm sick and tired of this! I'll hire a hack in the morning and be out of your way once and for all! Tell the Lindseys I appreciate all they've done but I can't stay here any longer. I'm ruining everyone's holiday, despite what they assure me, and I'm leaving!"
"My God, Nathaniel!"
Gail, her fists clenched, kicked the frame of the doorway and began to walk the length of the room breathing quickly. But then all at once a sudden thought hit her, and she froze in place, nearly choked by it.
As Nathaniel continued to rant, his voice was lost on her. Her mind was running so quickly it wasn't able to take in his words anymore. For she'd realized, in that very instant, that she'd been lying earlier. And the overwhelming shock of this realization struck her senseless.
"For Christ's sake," Nathaniel groaned, seeing her look of surprise, "What the hell's wrong now?"
"I was lying."
"I know you were lying! You wouldn't care if I . . ."
"No, no, not about that! I know you'll think I'm lying when I say it but it has to be true! It just has to be!" she threw up her hands, as though defeated, "I'm in love with you, Nathaniel!"
Instead of smiling or looking even slightly elated, as one would expect him to after he's just been told that a lovely young girl fancied him, Nathaniel's eyebrows slanted inward and he looked positively indignant. Then, bringing his knees forward and resting his head upon them, he murmured bitterly, "Oh, for the love of God!"
But Gail, expecting this reaction, continued with fervor, "But it's true! It has to be!"
"I told you I hate liars, Gail!"
"No! Let me explain first, at least," said Gail, wringing her hands, "If I hadn't, in fact, fallen for you then why in the world would I have ever put up with you for this long? Why would I have sat by your bedside for the past few months when I could have easily joined the sailors or my sisters instead? Why would I have nearly died myself those last few days aboard the ship when you were so dreadfully ill and were taken away from me? Why would I have constantly worried, every moment of everyday, those next few weeks when we were parted? I could think of nothing else for I was so scared that you'd already died! And as soon as I heard you were in Wickensville I packed my bags and was on my way! I didn't even think on it a moment! Why would I have invited you to come to the here with me? Why would I have sat dutifully by your side when you knew I was yearning with all my heart to join the snowball fight yesterday? And, most importantly, the most unbelievable fact of it all, why in my right mind would I have ever put up with you, you contentious, rude, screaming . . . ," she stared at him, his face still buried in the blanket covering his knees and only his bed head, matted, light brown hair visible, and continued slowly, "Inconceivably evil . . . ungrateful . . . disbelieving . . . wicked invalid . . ." Gail's voice trailed and she bit her lip, unsure of where to continue. But she managed to say, with the air of a successful student who has just solved some difficult arithmetic, "So you see, Nathaniel, I have to be in love with you. Otherwise, there's no way I would still be talking to you nor would you be sitting in this room and . . ."
Nathaniel lifted his head to reveal eyes blazing with fury and spat, "You're lying! Have you ever considered that perhaps it's all just because we're friends? We could be friends and that would account for everything! You don't have to pretend you're in love with me just so that I'll stay here for the holidays and I won't feel so pitiful!"
"That's part of it, of course, because we are friends but I know what I'm saying and I know that I . . ."
"Don't say it again! I can't bear to hear you lying and . . ."
"I've told you a million times! I'm not lying!"
"How do you know? All the sudden, out of nowhere, you have this silly revelation that comes in nearly perfect timing as an extra reason why I shouldn't go back to Wickensville! It's ridiculous! You told me before that you would never lie to me!"
"But I . . ."
"And I know all about your childish fantasies about how your life's supposed to turn out and how I don't fit into them! You want to marry some smiling, athletic, attractive man and I don't fit one of those traits! Go ahead and say it! Go ahead and say that I don't fit into your plans!"
"You don't, but that doesn't mean . . ."
"There you go! So stop faking your silly little speech and admit that I'm nothing more than a . . ."
"No, you're not what I ever imagined my husband would be like or look like or act like! But that doesn't mean I could never fall for you! Perhaps I was just a naïve, idealistic little girl when I thought up what might life would end up like! Y
ou can never predict those sorts of things and I . . . Well," her voice dropped, "I was wrong."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Nathaniel screamed, "Why do you have to make this so goddam sentimental?"
Gail shook her head but continued, "I was wrong because if I had to choose, of all the men in the world, who I should like to spend the rest of my life with, I'd choose you! Hell, you might even die a year after the wedding and I'd still choose you over everyone else!"
As she said it, she came close to his bed and slammed her hand down upon the mattress, her hair falling around her face.
Nathaniel, with an unbelievable quickness, just as her fingers were leaving the bed, grabbed her around the wrist. And just as he had before, he pulled her onto the bed beside him. But this time, he wasn't going to let her get away. He held her face in both his pale, bony hands; his eyes sparkling.
He murmured, his voice still cold, "You're a fool, Gail St. James."
Forcibly, almost angrily, he pulled her face towards him as he leaned forward and their lips met. One could scarcely describe how different this kiss could be from the sweet, soft one Brook had given Emy the week before. Although Nathaniel was weak, in that moment his strength all returned to him as he held Gail close and planted his lips upon her in such a way that she feared they may leave her bruised. But she wouldn't have it any other way. This was the way she'd longed to be kissed, the way she needed to be kissed. It left her head spinning and her fingers trembling and her heart beating like mad.
"You're a fool, Gail St. James," Nathaniel repeated, "But I love you anyway."
CHAPTER 39
Great Expectations
With only a week left until Christmas, all eight young people occupying the Lindsey's home, including, surprisingly, a certain invalid, headed to town for some last minute shopping.
Soft snowflakes were drifting from the sky as the two carriages entered the busy, harbor town. As they headed into the center of the city, one could see redbrick buildings adorned with wreaths, flickering candles resting on the window ledges, and merry shoppers carrying bags full of gifts. Little children, with their noses pressed against the store windows, gazed inside with eyes full of wonder at shiny rocking horses, toy trains, and beautiful china dolls. Not wanting to leave the wonderful toys, the children would soon have to be dragged away by their parents and headed back down the street with their eyes aglow, dreaming of what would sit under their tree on Christmas morning.
As soon as the two carriages stopped, the four oldest girls stepped out quickly, followed by Gail, dragging out the wheelchair, and finally Ethan and Brook emerged carrying Nathaniel and set him down gently in the chair.
"Shall we split up then?" asked Mary. Although she wore a furry white cap, several raven black curls had fallen out to frame her delicate face in a most becoming fashion. She brushed one away with a sly smile directed toward Ethan, "For although you know I'd love to shop with you today, dearest, I can't possibly or you shall see your present!"
"Of course," he nodded, "But who shall I walk with then?"
"I'll join you," Brook quickly volunteered. He glanced to Emy, feeling guilty for leaving her, but then his eyes alit and he offered, "But perhaps we should all join up for something to eat in a few hours."
Emy agreed, though blushing, "That sounds like a lovely idea."
"Does three o'clock sound good?" Mary asked. She pointed to a café across the street, "We could meet just there, if you like."
There were motions of agreement across the group and the suggestion was affirmed.
"Well, Nathaniel and I will be off then," said Gail, stepping behind his wheelchair and pushing him off, though it was rather more difficult in several inches of snow, "We'll see you all later!"
Ethan gave Mary a swift kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you in a few hours, my love." And then he and Brook walked off in the opposite direction.
Mary offered her arm to Sara, "Shall we?" And the two sisters strolled towards down the lane towards a little fabric store, leaving Nora and Emy, who quickly scurried off and entered a candy shop just down the way.
*****
Ethan held up a beaded bracelet, "Do you think she'd like this?" He rummaged through a basket and produced a simple, yet elegant necklace, "Or is this better?"
Brook shrugged, "How should I know? I'm not a woman."
The two men had already searched through near five shops already and still both were clueless as to what Ethan should purchase for Mary. Gift-giving is always difficult, especially when it concerns a member of the opposite sex. Although both Ethan and Brook were quite certain any sort of jewelry, trinket, perfume, hair ribbon, or any other feminine item would be sure to please their receivers, they still could not decide which would be best. Brook had already decided he would make Emy a little art kit- with pencils, brushes, paints, and parchment- and would paint her a small picture of the countryside in winter, for she seemed to like it so immensely. But Ethan was having far more difficulty, finding it even more intimidating than he had in the past now that he and Mary were betrothed. As a fiancé, he felt it was expected that he ought to know his soon-to-be bride well enough to find her the perfect gift, but now his anxiety was mounting as he could find nothing that was particularly special; and he would buy nothing but the best for his Mary.
Ethan set down both the bracelet and necklace with a sigh and headed towards the opposite side of the shop with his head held low. Brook looked up and shook his head.
"Why not one of those?" he asked, desperate to end this ongoing search; for how often do you find men fond of shopping?
"They just . . . They just weren't right . . . I don't know how to explain it," said Ethan, now looking through the scarves, "She wouldn't have liked them."
"Sure she would have! Sure!" Brook brought the jewelry basket over to Ethan and began sifting through it, holding up various pieces, "Look at all this! There's a beautiful pair of earrings or a jeweled bracelet . . ."
"It's not in her taste."
"Here's a lovely bracelet or . . . Or how about this? What a pretty brooch! I'm sure she'll love it," he held it to his chest, "Really, Ethan! I don't know why you're getting so worked up over this. It's only a Christmas present. I'm sure she'd like anything here. Women love just about any sort of sparkly thing you set in front of them! And besides, they're always saying it's the thought that counts! And I'm sure that no matter what you decide on Mary will know you had your best intentions behind it."
"Yes, but I don't want only the meaning to count. I want the gift to count too. I ought to be able to find her the perfect gift. She's going to be my wife, after all. I ought to know her better than anybody."
"No man truly knows what a woman will like. You just have to guess and hope it's alright."
"Well what about you, with your 'perfect little art set' for Emy?"
"It's not perfect."
"You've been talking all day about how you know she'll love it."
"That doesn't mean it's perfect," Brook turned away and began trying on some of the women's hats jokingly, "And I haven't been talking about it all day."
Ethan laughed, "That's the understatement of the century."
Brook began looking in the mirror, trying to act dainty and feminine in an effort to make Ethan laugh and, thus, change the subject of the conversation. He lowered the brim over one eye and pursed his lips together in his best mock-lady.
But Ethan only chuckled and shook his head, "Nice try, but you're not changing the subject, Brook. I've been wanting to talk more about Emy for a long while now."
"There's really not much to talk of."
"To the contrary, my friend. In fact," he swept the hat off Brook's head and set it on his own, "I'm not the only one finding interest in you two. Mary came to me this morning, on part of all her sisters- besides Emy, of course- and asked if I would talk to you about it today if I had the chance."
"Why don't they just ask Emy?"
"Ask Emy!" Ethan asked in shock, "Never! How horrible w
ould it be to question that poor girl and make her suffer in embarrassment by associating her with the likes of a repulsive young man like yourself?"
"I understand your concern," Brook joked.
"So . . ." Ethan said slowly, unsure of how to go about the subject, "What's the story?"
"It hasn't been written."
"Not a page?"
"Perhaps a page."
"Does that mean . . . ?"
"It doesn't mean anything."