Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 40

Charlotte’s enforced bed-rest isn’t well received. She doesn’t cope well with inactivity. After another two

days, I’m beginning to think I’ll have to tie her to the bed. Not that I haven’t done that often enough, but

the circumstances were different.

I aim a finger at her. “You chose to get pregnant. You have to live with the consequences. If the doctor’s

say you belong in bed, that’s where you’re staying. No argument.”

Head drooping, she submits, but then her eyes rise to mine. “Where’s Michael?”

And I don’t know how to answer her.

*****

After a week, the doctor’s pronounce Charlotte is well enough recovered to come home, albeit with

much wagging of fingers and warnings to ‘Don’t overdo it’.

As I drive up the mountain road, Charlotte sits beside me, very quiet. I lay a hand on her thigh. “You

alright?”

She silent for a moment. “Is Michael at home?”

“He is, yes.”

In a small voice, “Does he want to see me?”

“I’m sure he does. But I think he’s worrying that you might not want to see him.”

“I do want to see him. I’ve missed him. So much.”

I squeeze the thigh. “I know. It’s going to take all of us time to get past what happened. Your priority is

to look after this one.” I pat her stomach.

She’s smiles up at me, but the smile is a bit watery.

When we’re five minutes from the house, I tap my phone, sending the message I pre-prepared.

As I pull up at the front, Michael is there, surrounded by bricks and sawdust where he’s been repairing

the door. He’s put on a clean tee-shirt and the dressing on his arm is the only physical sign of his injury

and the subsequent removal of the bullet. But his expression is uncertain.

As Charlotte gets out of the car, still a little stiff on her bruised knees, he moves, holding out a hand,

then semi-withdraws it, blinking hard. “Hi, Babe. You okay?”

“Michael?” She stands, stares at him, then bursts into tears. “You didn’t come to see me. Not once.

After everything that happened. Why not?”

"Oh, God." He throws his arms around her. "Oh, God. Charlotte. I didn’t know… I thought you might

not…"

“I wanted you. I wanted you there, and you didn’t come.”

“I’m sorry, Babe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He presses his face against hers, holding her, swaying with

her as the two weep and shudder. I pace a little, hands in pockets, waiting for catharsis to run its

course.

At length, she breaks off, stands back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Michael, what

happened wasn’t your fault. You’re my husband…. My… my Golden Lover… I want you with me.” She

looks to me. “I want both of you with me. You understand?”

“I understand,” I say, “Yes.”

“Yes,” repeats Michael. “I understand.”

*****

“Master?”

“Yes, Charlotte?”

“Michael’s not here.”

It’s the wee small hours and beside me, my Jade-Eyes props herself up on an arm. Beyond her, sheets

thrown back; an empty space.

“I know. He left a couple of hours ago.”

“Where?”

“He’s in the next room, Charlotte. He was tossing and turning. He didn’t want to disturb us.”

“He shouldn’t be sleeping by himself, Master. I’ll go…”

She begins to rise, but I drop my arm on hers. “I think he wants to sleep alone just now. Give him some

space.”

*****

Dawn comes. Not even dawn really, just that pre-light that promises the sun.

Charlotte lies beside me, warm, beautiful, but even in sleep, there is a crease of worry on her brow.

As silently as I can, I rise, pulling on a robe and padding through to the bedroom next door. Opening

the door a crack, I look inside.

The bed is disturbed but empty. I step inside, listening. But there’s no sound from the shower room.

Touching the sheets, they’re cold.

Back in the main bedroom, trying not to wake Charlotte, I dress quickly and go downstairs.

“He’s outside.” It’s Mitch, waiting in the hallway, offering me a mug that steams the fragrance of coffee.

“I heard you moving,” she says. “Michael was up as soon as it was light enough to see by. You’ll find

him at the back, in those old buildings he’s renovating.” Her face drops. “I’m so sorry to have been the

cause of…”

“You were never the cause, Mitch. There was trouble with Ben long before you arrived on the scene. It

was always going to come to a head at some point.”

“When Charlotte became pregnant?”

“Almost certainly. You were just one factor among many. It’s me he really hated.”

“I’m sorry about that, James. You don’t deserve it.”

I knock back the coffee in three gulps and pass her the mug. “Thanks.”

*****

The banging and clattering carries over the garden…

I find Michael in the old stable, hunkered down, his back to me, a screwdriver sticking out of his back

pocket as he fits skirting board to a wall.

“You’ll be waking your hotel guests making that much noise at this hour.”

His head turns a little toward me, but he doesn’t stand, instead manoeuvring the skirt into position. “The

sound doesn’t carry that far. I checked that weeks ago, when Ben was helpi….” He swallows whatever

he was going to say next, taking the screwdriver from his pocket and holding it in his teeth.

He picks up screws from the floor beside him, jamming them into holes already drilled into the wood,

bangs them with a hammer, then screws them fully in with a couple of quick twists of the wrist.

“It’s looking good,” I say, turning to see the sun, gold and rose, glinting through the windows. “You’ll

enjoy working in here.”

“It’s not for me.”

“No? I thought it was going to be your office?”

“It was. But Mitch needs a place of her own. It’ll be ideal for her until she gets her life turned around;

decides what she wants to do.”

“Oh.”

I tour the space, hands shoved in pockets.

“Charlotte missed you last night.”

He meets my eye, then looks away. He offers up another length of skirt, marking it with a stub of pencil

which he shoves back behind his ear.

“I missed her too, but… right now…”

“It wasn’t your fault what happened. Ben created the whole…”

“I know it wasn’t my fault. But at the same time it was my fault. I should have…” He falters, rubs fingers

between squeezed eyelids.

“You should have what? What could you possibly have done that would have changed the course he

was set on? You’d told him often enough. So had Kirstie. And I’m guessing that any number of women

he was involved with tried. Michael, I know he was your brother… and that family means a lot… but

you are not responsible for his actions. He did what he did, and if Klempner hadn’t done it for us, in the

end I think either you or I would have had to finish him to defend the women. It could even have been

Charlotte. She would have done it to protect the baby, I’m sure of it. Would you have held that against

her?”

“No… no, I wouldn’t but… James, I don’t know what to do.” He sits, dropping his weight onto a saw-

horse, looks up at me. His eyes are red-rimmed, swimming. “What do I do?”

“You remember that you have family and friends you love and who love you. And you remember that

Charlotte has promised that after this one is born, yours is next.”

He drops his face, shoulders shuddering, covering his eyes with a hand.

Is that going to be enough?

*****

I sit, alone in the lounge, cradling a brandy, staring into flames. She comes to me, kneels, “Master, are

you alright?”

“I’m fine, Charlotte. Just thinking. Chewing over what happened.” This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

She sighs, lays her head on my knee. “Where’s Michael?”

“Out back somewhere I think. Burning off energy and grief.”

“Looking for something to hit.”

“I’d imagine so, yes.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“He’s in a kind of shock. With what Ben did… I thought Klempner was a moral low-point, but…” I run

out of words.

She nods slowly, her face rubbing against my leg. After a while, she says, “Where do you suppose my

father is?”

“Who knows, Charlotte? Who knows?”

“Wonder if we’ll see him again?”

“I think so, yes. But I wouldn’t like to guess how it will happen.”

*****