Page 17 of The Ones Left Behind
“Not, I trust, to feed me false hope and pity. I have had large doses of that ad nauseum.”
“I think I know you better than to offer you falsehoods.”
“Just so. Then what do you want?”
“I want you to send Mrs. Harlow away. She was hoping to retire when you returned.”
“Then she may go with my blessing. But you will not replace her.”
“I have never known you to be cruel, Matthias.” Hurtful, but not deliberately cruel. It had to be the drink making him this way.
“People change. You, of all people, should understand that. They change and they disappoint you.” There was so much history behind those sentences, she thought.
“That is an understatement,” she snapped and indignantly turned away, beginning to stride back to the house. He needed her, why could he not see that?
“Kitty!” he called.
She stopped but did not turn around. “You know I cannot stay here otherwise,” she protested.
“Then leave. I will see you have what you need.”
“I cannot be kept by you, can you not see that?”
“Only if you care for the opinion of others. What is the difference in your being here or somewhere else? I have several relatives who have no compunction whatsoever in accepting my funds.”
“You know very well why,” she grumbled. Was he so cruel that he would make her say the words aloud?
His tone softened a little. “And do you think, by wearing that ugly uniform, it will make people talk less?”
“It will at least give me justification.”
“I do not want you as my housekeeper, Kitty.” He took another draw on his drink.
“Why are you being so stubborn? You need someone and I need a position, Matthias.” She could hear the pleading and desperation in her voice. The thought of going back on her own and leaving him like this was unbearable.
“Temptation.” The word was slurred.
She turned around and he was watching her.
“I beg your pardon?” Had she heard him correctly? He would never speak to her like this sober.
He barked a laugh. “You had better give me a wide berth, then,” he warned. “I cannot vouch for my actions.”
Matthias had always been the most honourable man she had ever known. “I am not afraid of you.”
“You should be. War changes people. Neither of us are the same as we were five years ago.”
“No, indeed. But your character doesn’t change,” she argued. “Or are you going to allow spirits to turn you into a monster?”
“Shall I shoot your leg and horse out from under you? How would you feel, having watched two of your best friends fall right before your eyes?”
She winced at the reminder as though it were a physical blow. Tears were streaming down her face before she could tell herself not to react. She turned and ran, ignoring him when he called after her. He had gone too far and he knew it, but he could not come after her, could he?
Perhaps returning here had been a mistake. She had had her doubts and that was why it had taken her two years and destitution to make the decision. But would it be bearable to see Matthias like this? She could not allow him to ruin himself in such a way. She ran all the way to the old stone bridge and leaned over the edge, her sides burning with pain and her breaths stertorous.
Watching the sun gleaming on the rocks and the water trickle by helped her to calm and her breathing to slow. A decision had to be made. She either stayed to help Matthias and face the consequences, or she left and ended back on the streets, starving. Neither was appealing.
She let all of the tears fall: the ones for what the three of them had used to be; the ones for Peter’s death and their short marriage; and the ones for the friendship that they had pledged would be eternal. She owed it to Matthias to help him, whether he fully healed or not.
