A Man to Call My Own

Chapter 24

MARIAN WAS SITTING IN one of several rocking chairs on the wide porch, gazing in amazement at one of the most extraordinary sunsets she'd ever seen. She'd witnessed some nice ones on the trip there, but nothing to compare with today's spectacular display. What had started pink and turned to orange had turned nearly blood red, and it completely covered the horizon. Even the size of the sun, before it sank completely, had been bigger than anything she'd ever seen before.

She knew that her aunt was home and she should go in the house to find her, but she was loath to miss even a moment of that sunset. So she was glad when the door opened and she turned to see that her aunt had found her instead.

"There you are," Kathleen said, and sat down in the rocking chair next to her.

"Is it okay if I call you Aunt Kathleen?" Marian asked hesitantly. "I know your friends call you Red, but Aunt Red just seems—odd."

"Sweetie, you can call me anything you like. We aren't formal out here."

"I've noticed that. I rather like it, actually. I'm not late for dinner, am I?"

"No, not at all. If anything, dinner will probably be late tonight," Kathleen said with a sigh.

She had been frowning when she opened the door, and looked very weary. She had shaken that off momentarily when she saw Marian there and had smiled in greeting, but she was back to looking weary again.

Marian was almost afraid to ask, knowing what her sister had been up to that day.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Kathleen started to deny, but then sighed again. "Well, yes. I just got my ear chewed off by Consuela. She's taken a dislike to your sister, I'm afraid. And my maid refuses to clean her room, refuses to go anywhere near her for that matter. It just took me thirty minutes to get her calmed down, and nearly that long to convince Consuela to send a plate up to Amanda as she requested, since she apparently doesn't want to eat with us tonight. That's why dinner will be late."

Marian leaned back in her chair, sighed a little herself. "I don't usually offer explanations, but you're family, as well as our guardian, so you have a right to know certain things about us. First off, Amanda and I don't like each other. We never have, never will. You may have gathered that from overhearing that fight yesterday. She's made my life miserable from as far back as I can remember."

"Because she was Mortimer's favorite."

"Yes, and has rubbed that in my face continuously for most of my life. How did you—?" Marian started to ask, then amended, "Never mind. Of course, you were there when we were young and probably saw it firsthand."

"Sweetie, that's the main reason I got the hell out of there as soon as I could. I didn't want to watch you two grow up with the same bitter feelings my sister and I shared."

"You have a sister?" Marian asked in surprise.

"Had," Kathleen corrected. "She died when we were fourteen. She was my twin—and Mortimer's favorite. He was only two years older than us. All three of us should have been close. But neither of them seemed to be able to share their feelings with more than one person at a time. They bonded early, were inseparable, did everything together, and excluded me from all of it. And like you, my face got rubbed in it. Neither of them was very nice."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, because I was afraid you'd experience the exact same thing with Mortimer, except in a father-daughter relationship, and it looks like you did. It certainly wasn't your fault. I hope you never thought that it was."

"No—well, maybe for a year or two when I was young," Marian admitted. "My mother helped me to get past that. She was always there for me, until she died. I remember she told me once, about big hearts and small hearts, and that not everyone could be blessed with a big one that had room to care for a lot of people. She promised me that mine was big, and that I was the lucky one for it."

Kathleen smiled. "I liked your mother. She was a good woman. I pitied her, too, for marrying a man who didn't love her."

"Why did he marry her then?"

Kathleen shrugged. "I never asked. Probably for the same reason most men of means marry, to have children so they can ensure they have someone to leave their wealth to. She was only a little disappointed that he didn't turn out to be an ideal husband, and she got along well enough with him, from what I could tell. I don't think she was raised to expect a grand love. Many women think a good provider is more important, and he was that at least."

"Were you raised to expect a grand love?"

Kathleen chuckled. "Sweetie, I wasn't raised to expect anything. My father was all business. It was a rare day that he spent any time with his family. He left the raising of his children completely in his wife's hands, and to be frank, those weren't capable hands. If anyone is to blame for the way Mortimer turned out, it was our mother. She taught him that he needed no one but himself to be successful, and maybe one other to share his triumphs with. I think she hoped to be that 'one other.' She really adored him. But he disappointed her in that."

"But isn't that what most boys are taught? That they can be successful at anything if they work at it hard enough?"

"Indeed," Kathleen agreed. "And if that was all she'd stressed, then he might have turned out much differently. But she also coddled him, she babied him, she made him believe that he could do no wrong."

"Like he did with my sister."

"And mine." Kathleen nodded.

"I'm still a bit amazed that I never heard about her. Not one mention in all these years."

"Actually, that doesn't surprise me at all. Once she died, Mortimer put her out of his mind. I thought he and I might grow close after that. But no, once excluded from his affections, always excluded."

"I think Amanda did something like that when our father died. I thought she might be in shock, but it was more like she'd removed all memories of him, so it simply didn't bother her that he was gone."

"Don't let that sadden you."

Marian blinked. "Did I look sad?"

"For a moment. But don't be. The person Mortimer loved most was himself. People like that don't get mourned. It may have seemed like he loved my sister, and yours, but after many years of reflection, I've come to doubt that he really did. They were more like pets to him, things that needed to be nurtured so they'd be there to amuse him. Of course, I could be completely wrong." She ended in another shrug.

"You never noticed a similarity?" Marian asked curiously.

"In what?"

"Both sets of twins. You and your sister. Me and mine. Maybe he just didn't want to divide his affection between two people who looked exactly alike?"

"I hate to break this to you, sweetie, but you don't exactly look like your sister."

Marian stared at her aunt, watching Kathleen wince for having been so unflatteringly frank, then started to chuckle.

Kathleen sighed in relief. "I'm glad you find that funny. I'm sorry. Let me just pull this foot out of my mouth."

"It's all right, really." Marian grinned. "I was going to tell you anyway, before we got sidetracked on the subject of my father. You see, I don't need to wear these," she said, shoving the spectacles up her nose by habit.

Kathleen frowned. "You don't? Then why do you?"

"To make my life at least somewhat bearable. You see, Amanda is very jealous. She won't tolerate competition of any sort, especially not where men are concerned. So I've found it necessary to hide the fact that we look alike."

"But that's silly. So she'd lose a few suitors to you. She can't expect to have every man y'all cross paths with eating from her hand. Her hand just isn't big enough."

Marian chuckled again, amazing herself that she could find anything amusing about this. But then her aunt's perspective was refreshing. And it was nice to be able to talk about her problem with someone other than Ella Mae.

"Well, that's just the thing. She does—"

"Dang," Chad cut in, coming around the corner and seeing them there on the porch. "Don't tell me I missed dinner."

Kathleen stood up. "No, not at all. Goodness, I didn't realize it was getting so late. I was having a nice chat with my niece and let the time escape me. Come on in, children. Consuela isn't in a mood today to have her food getting cold."

Marian didn't follow her aunt inside immediately. She needed a moment to compose herself, since all of her senses had leapt with excitement—and alarm—at the first sound of Chad's voice. Had he heard what they were discussing before he came around the corner?

Surely not. They had been talking quietly. And although he was standing there at the door waiting for her to go inside before him, his expression was normal. Then it wasn't...

He grinned and said, "Where's the hat?"