Breathless Read online

  Charlotte nodded quietly. "Yeah. That makes two of us."

  Topher sighed and smiled at Charlotte. His smile was so sweet, she noted. She suddenly remembered why she had thought he was so handsome the day they met at the train station, which seemed like months ago, and blushed.

  "I don't really feel like going home just yet," he told Charlotte. "What do you say we have a walk around town?"

  Charlotte grinned. "That sounds wonderful."

  Topher drove to a part of town that Charlotte had never seen before. Topher bought some bread from a vendor nearby and they ate it with their hands as they walked down the cobblestone streets, talking all the way, about just about anything.

  "I can't wait to see it someday," Topher mused, after Charlotte had spoken about France. "I mean, I hope I can see it someday. I've looked at the photographs of it in Lewis' library since I could walk in there."

  "It's beautiful, really," Charlotte told him truthfully. "But London is beautiful, too...I never imagined it being so wonderful..."

  "It's definitely got character," Topher smiled at her.

  Charlotte smiled back. She looked down the street where boys were lining up in a queue. She squinted in confusion. "Is that Jack?" she asked.

  Topher looked over to where Charlotte pointed and his smile immediately disappeared. The boys were lining up to a booth with a banner hanging over it, spelling out Military Enlistment. Topher briskly walked over to the line, and before Jack even realized it, grabbed his arm and wrenched him from the line.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Topher asked Jack as he pulled him away.

  "What the hell!" Jack exclaimed as he struggled against Topher. But even though Topher had a bad leg, he was still bigger than Jack and easily pulled him to the car, shoving him in the backseat. Charlotte followed along, confusedly, but got into the passenger seat and stared straight ahead at the street.

  "What do you think you were doing, Jack?" Topher yelled as he got into the driver's seat and pulled away in a hurry.

  "It really isn't any of your business, Topher!" Jack spat.

  "It is my business, Jack! It's anyone's business who cares about your family!" Topher yelled at him. "Helen already lost her brother to a war! What good do you think it would do her for her own son to go off and get himself killed in another one!"

  Charlotte tried to take a quick glance at Jack in the backseat. He had stopped arguing, but was staring angrily out the window of the car, looking ready to kill Topher. As they pulled up to the house, Jack threw open the door and slammed it behind him, storming into the house.

  Charlotte sighed uncomfortably and looked at Topher. "Thank you for the lovely afternoon," she said softly. "It was really nice...until that happened."

  Topher shook his head. "He's just so stupid sometimes. He doesn't think about anyone but himself. I think that's why I always preferred Wes over him."

  Charlotte frowned. "Who's Wes?"

  "You haven't met him? Well you will soon enough," Topher told her. "I should go park the car. I'll see you later, Charlotte. Thanks for spending the afternoon with me."

  Charlotte smiled at him and got out of the car, walking through the doors of the Careys' house.

  "Did you have a nice time this morning?" Mrs. Gates asked her with a smile as she passed in the hallway.

  "Yes, thank you," Charlotte said rather tiredly, rubbing her forehead. "I'm kind of tired now, though. I think I'll go upstairs and read for a while before dinner, if that's all right."

  "Yes, dear. Of course."

  Charlotte smiled gratefully and climbed the stairs to the second floor. As she neared her bedroom, she could hear Jack slamming things around in his own room across the hall, and calling profanities while he did it. Charlotte shook her head in disappointment, wondering how she could have ever for one moment have thought that he could have been a nice person. He was just so selfish! All people did was care about him, and he took it for granted. Finally, she couldn't restrain herself any longer.

  She threw open the door to Jack's room angrily. "What is wrong with you?" she cried, throwing out her arms. "You should be thankful that you have parents who actually care about what you do, who don't want you going off to get yourself killed in a stupid war! You should be grateful for that! Not acting like a spoiled brat!"

  Jack, who had been sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, looked up at Charlotte. And for the first time, he looked angry. His eyes were blazing and his cheeks red, but not with embarrassment. This time he was furious.

  "Do you really think you know me?" Jack asked incredulously. "You're a little girl from France," he spat. "You don't know anything about me. And stop pretending you know my family, too. You've been here for three days. And they sure seem to have you fooled."

  "Are you sure you're not the one who's fooled?" Charlotte retorted harshly. "Everyone else knows what you're really like. But are you sure you haven't fooled yourself into thinking you're not that bad of a person?" Jack laughed at this, but it was a cruel laugh. "You make everyone miserable all the time with your stupid attitude! Can't you think of other people for just one moment? No, because only Jack is important in your world."

  Jack suddenly stood and walked over to Charlotte. He looked deep into her eyes with his stone cold blue ones and glared at her. "Get out," he said through his clenched teeth. Hpushed Charlotte out of his room, slamming the door after her. She ran across the hall to her own room, throwing herself onto her bed angrily and cracking open Lewis' copy of Hamlet. But there were some things that even Shakespeare couldn't shake from her mind.

  Charlotte opened her eyes sleepily as there was a knock on her bedroom door. She had fallen asleep reading that afternoon, her finger still holding her place in the book. As the knock came once again, Charlotte groggily called, "Come in."

  To her surprise, it was Jack who quietly walked through the door, his blue eyes once again calm and void of showing emotion, as they had been when she met him in the dining room. "Hi," he said quietly, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. "I just wanted to apologize for earlier. Shoving you out like that was really rude of me and I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

  Charlotte could tell that Jack was not the type of person to apologize easily. And somehow, that made her more appreciative for it. "It's okay," she told him.

  Jack nodded in thanks and looked down at his shoes. Charlotte wondered what else he could be in her room for if he didn't have anything else left to say. But then he looked at her and asked, "Would you like to come out on my balcony? It's a really day outside today."

  Charlotte was surprised by his offer, especially after how they had acted toward each other only hours earlier, but she nodded and set her book aside, following Jack across the hall through his bedroom and out onto the large balcony, overlooking the park below. The pair sat side by side, their legs dangling between the banister rungs, looking down at the people below.

  "I didn't mean to be so angry earlier," Jack commented without looking at Charlotte. He ran his hands through his unruly hair and it stood on end. "I've just felt so frustrated lately," he said exasperatedly. Charlotte didn't say anything and just waited for him to continue, looking at him imploringly. "I feel like all of my friends have gone off to war," Jack told her. "One moment we were all just having a good time together, playing cricket and seeing films...and then next thing I knew, the war had begun and everyone wanted to fight. And they did. And they all left me behind to make friends with the other boys who stayed behind-the ones who drink and smoke incessantly; the ones who I'd sworn I'd never be seen around.

  "I think it might have all been different if my parents were around more," Jack said thoughtfully as he leaned his head against the banister. "They forbade me from joining the military, but what was the point of that? It wasn't as if they were seeing me, anyway. It just makes me so mad. All I want to do is be able to go off and fight for my country...for my friends, for my family...but it's just so maddening that I didn't even
really have a choice in the matter."

  Charlotte nodded and looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. "I think I understand you, Jack. I guess...I suppose in a way, we're similar in that regard." Jack looked up at Charlotte. "When my parents told me that I must leave France, I was devastated. But when I learned that Luc had been able to make his own decision to stay behind, I was even more heartbroken. I know that they thought they were doing the best for me...but I'm sixteen years old. I should be able to make a decision like that for myself. They shouldn't have treated me like such a child."

  "They were trying to keep you safe-"

  "They were trying to get me out of their hair," Charlotte interrupted fiercely. "I know my parents. My mother wanted what was best for her, not for me."

  Jack was silent for a moment. Charlotte wondered if she had finally convinced him that things weren't perfect in France, like he seemed to imagine. She wondered if he finally realized that things were terrible everywhere. But then he turned to Charlotte and she could see his blue eyes turn to ice once again.

  "I had thought that maybe I had judged you wrongly," he said coldly. "I had thought that maybe you weren't who I had presumed you were. But I can see I was wrong." He stood before adding, "We aren't anything alike, Charlotte. And you don't understand me."

  Charlotte looked back down at her hands as Jack turned and walked from his room. But he was right-she didn't understand him. She didn't understand how one moment he could be such a sweet boy and the next he could be a cold monster. There was a slam of the door as Jack left the house, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, no doubt. She put her head in her hands and watched the neighbors in the courtyard below, walking their pets or strolling with their families, hand in hand. Charlotte felt a sudden pain for Luc.

  "Charlotte? Are you upstairs?" she heard a call.

  Charlotte got to her feet and went out to the hallway. "Yes?" she called back.

  "Would you come down, please?" Lewis asked her politely.

  Charlotte sighed and began to make her way down the staircase to Lewis' study, where she knew he would be. She felt dread with every footstep. What if Jack had told Lewis what she had said? What if he had made her out to be a terrible, spoiled person? What if she was a terrible person? Charlotte couldn't bear to imagine Lewis thinking badly of her. It hurt like a stab to the heart.

  "Yes, Lewis?" Charlotte asked timidly as she stood in the doorway of his study.

  Lewis stood at his desk, looking over some papers with his spectacles on. "Oh good. You're here, Charlotte. There has been something I've been meaning to speak with you about. Have a seat." He gestured to the leather armchair behind his desk. Charlotte quietly went to it and sat.

  "Is there anything wrong, Lewis?" Charlotte asked fearfully.

  "No, not at all, dear," Lewis said with a tone of surprise. He set aside his papers and sat across from Charlotte at the desk. "Don't worry, it's nothing terrible. But I've been thinking...you're a 16-year-old girl with two years of school still before you. What are your thoughts about attending school in London?"

  Fear flooded through Charlotte. "Oh, please don't make me go, Lewis! I'll do anything!"

  "It isn't that horrid, Charlotte," Lewis assured her with his kind eyes. "Why don't you want to go?"

  "The girls might make fun of my accent, or they might hate me for my personality," Charlotte said, her thoughts scrambling. She was still flustered by Jack. She couldn't even get along with her own housemate-how could she possibly make friends with the English girls at school? "Please don't make me go, Lewis!" she pleaded.

  Lewis looked long and hard at Charlotte before finally nodding. "Alright," he agreed. "For the time being, I will hire a private tutor to give you lessons at the house. But you must promise me that you will be a diligent student, Charlotte."

  Charlotte nodded. "Oh yes, Lewis. I've always been a good student. I promise you."

  "Good," Lewis said. He placed his spectacles back on his nose and began to look over his papers once more. "Now if you'll excuse me, Charlotte, I should be getting back to my work."

  "Of course, Lewis," Charlotte agreed. She stood from her chair and walked to the door, but was stopped before she could leave.

  "Oh, Charlotte. Did you happen to notice Jack leave the house?"

  Charlotte hesitated, her mouth turning dry. "I...I think I heard him leave," she managed.

  "Oh. Thank you, I was just wondering."

  Charlotte left hurriedly before Lewis could ask any more questions, and before the questions could get any more complicated.

  Charlotte had retreated to her bedroom once again, curling up with her book and immersing herself in its story. She hardly noticed the hours passing, and was only awakened from her reading when she heard a knock at the door. But it wasn't a hard, quick knock like Jack's. It was a soft, rapping little knock.

  "Come in," Charlotte said, shutting her book and setting it aside. She was surprised when Helen walked through the door with a bright smile and a plate of cookies.

  "I thought you might like a little snack," Helen said, coming to sit on the edge of Charlotte's bed and offering her the plate. "Mrs. Gates told me she had baked these with you. I tried one. They're very good."

  "Thank you, Helen," Charlotte smiled and took a cookie. Helen was right-they were light and sweet, but had a nice crunch to them. It was the first time Charlotte had baked and she was relieved nothing had gone wrong. "I had a nice time baking them with Mrs. Gates."

  Helen's smile faltered a bit and she set the plate aside. "Oh, Charlotte. I'm so sorry I've been away so often. I would have liked to spend so much more time with you. But I agreed to star in this show long before your mother even wrote her first letter to me. I couldn't back out of my contract."

  "I know, I understand," Charlotte insisted. "My mother always taught us the importance of commitments, especially in this line of work. I don't blame you at all. Besides," she hugged her knees to her chest, "you didn't even have to agree to have me in the first place."

  "Oh, but I wanted to!" Helen said urgently, sitting fully on the bed. She looked into Charlotte's eyes with insistence. "And I'm so glad you're here with us, Charlotte. Truly. I only have a son. I am so excited to be able to have a daughter, even for just a little while." She smiled sadly. "You know, Lewis and I had tried to have another child for years and years. We wanted another so badly. But after all those years, we were still unable to conceive. Maybe that's why we're so hard on Jack. He's our only child. We just want what's best for him."

  Helen took Charlotte's hand. "Charlotte, I want us to make wonderful use of this time we have together, as replacement mother and daughter, if you will. I've decided to take a break from the theatre after this show, in order to spend more time with you and Jack and Lewis."

  "Oh, no you can't!" Charlotte cried. "You love the theatre...I could never take you away from that!"

  "You won't be," Helen told her seriously. "I want my time spent with my family. I can always go back to theatre. But I can never reclaim this time with my son, with my wonderful husband, and with you, Charlotte." She smiled at Charlotte. "Come, it's late. Let's get you settled into bed so you can read quietly."

  Charlotte smiled back and nodded. She went to change into pajamas and wash her face as Helen turned back her bed, as a mother would do. Charlotte's mother would never have done such a thing-that was the maid's job-but Helen went about her work quietly and quickly. Charlotte curled up under the covers happily, feeling the warmth envelope her.

  "Is that alright?" Helen asked.

  "Yes," Charlotte nodded.

  Helen pressed her book into her hands and patted the top of her head. "Have sweet dreams, Charlotte," she told her softly, and left the room quietly. And as she did, Charlotte was left wondering about her own mother back in France, and for the first time wishing she had been more pleasant to her. If she had been, would they have had a better relationship? Would her mother have been more like Helen? Charlotte scooted further under the covers,
realizing that her questions might never be answered.

  15 March 1942

  Dear Charlotte,

  It feels so strange having to write a letter to you instead of just crossing the hall if I want to speak with you. Every day I miss our trips to the baker and the park, and every evening feels so empty without you at sitting at the dinner table. The silence at the house has become almost unbearable. I've found myself spending more and more time at the library. At least the silence is required there.

  Your friends are quite forlorn without you. Collette and Jeanine were upset when I told them you had left. They had come to the house to ask about you after you were absent from school. Apparently more and more students have left, gone to other countries or sent to safety. France isn't safe anymore. Everyone knows that. You were very lucky to have left when you did.

  In all honestly, I probably should have left when I had the chance. It would have been the smart thing to do. But honestly, Charlotte, I could not have left Mother and Papa behind. But I promise you, the very minute all of us have the opportunity to leave, I will be with you in England.

  All my love,

  Luc Martin

  PS How is the bear cat?

  16 April 1942

  Dear Luc,

  I hope you and the rest of the family are doing well! I'm sorry I haven't written in a week or so. My tutor has kept me so busy with schoolwork for the past few weeks that I scarcely have time for anything else! On weekdays I have my lessons with Mr. Barry from eight o' clock in the morning to noon. In the afternoons I have lunch either with Mrs. Gates and Topher or with Lewis if he's home, and then I study and do my schoolwork for a few hours. We then have a late dinner with Helen after she returns home from rehearsals, and I then read and go to sleep.

  Mr. Barry is terribly dull. I can hardly concentrate on my work, for his monotonous voice puts me to sleep! Right now I am studying trigonometry, physical science, Shakespeare (which of course I love), and Spanish. Spanish, of all languages! I would rather learn Italian or Russian, honestly! Anyway, I hate my tutor but I promised Lewis I would do well in my studies, so I try and do the best I can. I miss school and my friends, though.