Read All The King's Horses: A Tale Of Eternal Love Online
Authors: Alethea Downs
Christy could sympathize with that. When the specialist had told her she couldn’t have a baby she had felt like her whole world was caving in.
“I have always wanted a daughter,” Jocelyn continued, “so I envy you. Talitha is every mother’s dream come true. So I am sorry if you were offended by me staring at her.”
Christy shook her head. “I wasn’t offended. It was merely an observation.”
“I think I would make a good mother,” Jocelyn said sadly. “But I’m thirty-two years old now and so I don’t think I’m ever going to be given that opportunity.”
She was right. A single woman would never be given approval to adopt. Even if Jocelyn met a man and got married within the next two years the waiting list was so long that she would probably be considered too old by the time her name made it to the top of that list. Christy knew Jocelyn had left her run too late.
“I would like us to exchange phone numbers,” Christy said tentatively.
Jocelyn looked at her in bewilderment. “Why?”
“For Kent’s sake as well as yours I would like to keep you up to date with what’s happening in his life.”
“Asking her husband’s ex lover for her phone number so she can keep her informed about his comings and goings is a strange thing for a wife to request.”
“There is method to my madness, Jocelyn,” Christy said, casting an eye in the direction of the open door to make sure Kent wasn’t on his way back yet. “But you don’t need to know about that yet. So, do you want to be kept informed?”
“I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t. There hasn’t been a day gone by since we broke up that I didn’t want to know how he was or what he was doing.”
“Then you’d better give me your cell phone number quickly before Kent comes back. Because although it’s me asking for it, if Kent finds out I’m contacting you he’s too honorable a man to allow our arrangement to continue.”
“I would like to see the Taj Mahal,” Christy said, as she handed a chocolate flake ice cream to Talitha. “I’ve been doing a bit of reading on it recently and it intrigues me.”
Kent abandoned his newspaper and placing it on the park bench beside him gave his wife’s comment some consideration. “It’s very hot in India at this time of the year. Do you think you’d be up to that?”
“I think so.”
“What about the plane flight over?”
“It’s not that far, Kent, and I’m not so ill that I can’t sit on a plane for a few hours.”
“What’s the appeal with the Taj Mahal?”
“A husband’s love for his wife.”
He looked intently at her for a moment. “I’ll take you if that’s where you really want to go.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “You spoil me, and I love you for it.”
“I’ll get down to the travel agents and book the trip this afternoon.”
♥
It was hot and steamy when they arrived in Agra. Kent wondered how Christy could bear the heat. She had lost several pounds over the last few weeks and had been looking a lot more tired than usual. He decided he would have to watch her very closely to see she didn’t overdo things, as she had a propensity for pushing herself a little too hard.
The dust, the dirt, the flies, and the noise, it was almost enough for him to turn around and take his small family home. But Christy had her heart set on seeing the ancient monument and he could never deny her anything that was within his power to grant.
They spent a day walking around the markets and Kent marveled at how adept Christy was at haggling with the venders over their merchandise. Sick she may be but she was a tiger when it came to negotiating a bargain. Kent suspected the vendors were glad when this foreign woman moved on to the next stall.
“I wouldn’t buy Talitha an ice cream from any of the vendors here,” Kent said to Christy as they slowly made their way through a crowded section of the food market. “There’s no telling what they’ve put in their ice cream.”
“We’ll have to feed her something sooner or later,” Christy answered, looking down at her tired and hungry little girl. “She’s been such a good girl too.”
“Maybe some fruit would be alright,” Kent suggested.”Would be a lot safer than any of the milk products they’ve got on offer.” Walking over to a stall and picking up a mango he held it up for Christy to see, “how about this?”
“Oh, Kent,” Christy said disbelievingly, “do you really think a little girl is going to be happy with that when she’s used to eating ice cream?”
He looked around in desperation at what was on offer. “Well what can we give her?”
“I’m hungry, Daddy,” Talitha said suddenly.
“Daddy’s working on it, Darling.”
“If we leave it to you Talitha will fade away, Kent.” Christy wandered over to a stall and after haggling for a few seconds came back with a brown paper bag and handed it to the little girl.
“What did you get her?”
“Dried apricots.”
“They taste good, Daddy,” Talitha said, holding out the bag for him to take one as she munched happily away.
“I hope she’s not going to eat all those in one go,” Kent said with concern. “Dried fruit has extremely high sugar content.”
“Lighten up, Kent. We’re on holiday. A small bag of dried fruit isn’t going to hurt her any.”
“I’m just thinking of her welfare,” he grumped. “You can’t be too careful with children you know.”
“The dried fruit is a better alternative to the ice cream don’t you think?”
He scuffed the ground with his foot. “I suppose so.”
“Then let’s concentrate on having some fun and forget about all this safety first stuff, it’s guaranteed to put a dampener on the holiday.”
“It’s easy to see I’m not going to be any use to anybody on this holiday,” he muttered away to himself. “I may as well go home and leave you to it.”
“Oh come here you sour-pus,” Christy said, putting an arm around him and giving his hair a playful ruffle. “No one wants you to go home. We need our leading man here.”
He allowed the faintest smile to flicker across his face. “A little more attention like that and I might stick around for a while longer.”
She gave him a light kiss on the lips. “There’ll be plenty of attention coming your way tonight, so you just hang in there.”
♥
“Wow…it’s even more magnificent than it looks in the photos I’ve seen of it,” Christy said. She stared transfixed by the white marble monument as it sat gleaming in the mid-morning sun. “Almost five hundred years it’s been here, a testament to a man’s love for his wife.”
“To a man’s love for ‘one’ of his wives,” Kent said sarcastically.
“His favorite wife,” Christy was quick to point out. “Stop being so cynical, Kent.”
“It’s hard not to be when you know how women were treated back then. They were considered to be a dime a dozen. This fellow…what’s his name?”
“Shah Jahan.”
“Yeah, well I bet old Shah Jahan had plenty of wives and didn’t have any qualms about replacing them if they didn’t please him.”
She ignored his comment. “It took twenty thousand workman twenty-two years to build this beautiful monument.”
“I wonder how many of those workmen died building their Shah’s folly for him.”
“It’s not a folly, Kent. It is a labor of love.”
“A labor of love is when a man builds something for his wife with his own hands,” Kent insisted. “He wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help build this.”
“It’s the thought that counts, and he must have thought very highly of her to go to all this trouble.” Her eyes were still feasting on the beauty of the structure. “And five hundred years later the depth of his love for her is still here for all to see.”
Kent slipped his arm around her. “This has really made an impression on you hasn’t it?”
Her eyes misted up slightly. “I understand how he felt about her because it’s the same way I feel about you.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “If you died and I was wealthy I would want to build you a memorial to let the world know of my love for you.”
“I guess that’s what we poor people have headstones for,” Kent said.
She looked into his face. “What will you put on my headstone?”
“This conversation is starting to become morbid. I think we’d best change the subject.”
“We have to accept I’m going to die, Kent. I need to talk about these sorts of things so I can prepare myself for when the time comes.”
“I’m not giving up hope yet,” he insisted. “You’re young and you’re strong. There’s a good chance you’ll fight this thing off.”
She looked at him with pity. “I am not many months away from getting much worse. I hope you have come to terms with the situation by then or it is going to be very hard for you.”
He wouldn’t look at her, just continued to stare silently off in the direction of the monument.
“It is only you who can give me the strength to die well. So I need you to be strong for me so I can get through this when the time comes.”
He didn’t answer. She could see he couldn’t answer. The fear of accepting the inevitable was still too much for him. He could conquer his fear of flying but not his fear of losing her.
“She was a Persian princess,” she said, deciding to change the subject to spare him any more pain. “Arjumand Bano Begum was her name. Her husband changed her name to Mumtaz Mahal.” She slipped her hand into his as they looked at the Taj Mahal together. “Do you know what the name he gave her means?”
He shook his head.
“It means…‘Jewel of the Palace’. That is how he viewed her.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. “She died giving birth to their fourteenth child. So you can have your Romeo and Juliet, and your Mark Antony and Cleopatra. The love story between Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal is much more inspiring.”
“I enjoyed that movie,” Christy said, as she and Kent watched the final credits roll. “Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn are perfect for the parts.”
“So how many times have you seen it now?”
“I have seen ‘Roman Holiday’ sixteen times now.”
“Sixteen times,” he said in amazement. “Now there’s a glutton for punishment if ever I’ve seen one.”
“It’s a beautiful love story, Kent. They knew how to make movies back then.”
“There wasn’t too much love being spread around in that Jimmy Cagney movie you had us watching last night,” Kent said cheekily. “The only thing he was spreading around was bullets.”
“Jimmy’s great isn’t he? Did you know he was a very good dancer?”
Kent shook his head. “I can’t picture the little gangster tripping the light fantastic somehow.”
“He was considered one of the best dancers of his day,” Christy insisted. “You must watch ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ with me. The final scene where he dances down the stairway is a classic.”
“Maybe we’ll watch that one tomorrow night.” He shifted closer to her on the couch. “So how about getting a little bit friendly with me then?”
She looked at him out the corner of her eye. “I thought I did that for you last night.”
“Yeah, you did, and it was great. So I’m back for some more.”
“You don’t think you’re being just a tad greedy there, Cowboy?”
“You can’t get too much of a good thing little lady.”
“What if Talitha or Daddy comes in?”
He started unbuttoning her blouse. “They went to bed hours ago. They won’t wake up till morning.”
Kent had wanted her almost every night for the past three weeks, and she knew why. He had always said that when they made love he felt closer to her than at any other time; he said it was as if they melted into each other, almost becoming one another. He had put it in such a beautifully poetic way one night that she found herself surrendering to him immediately, even though she hadn’t felt up to it.
She had grown steadily sicker over the last six weeks, and she noticed that Kent finally seemed to accept that she wasn’t going to make the miraculous recovery he had been praying for. It had taken a long time for him to reach this conclusion, and not without a lot of soul searching. So when they made love together, and he felt a part of her, it was the only time that the pain in his heart went away.
Last night after they had made love, and she had rolled over and closed her eyes waiting for sleep to claim her, she had heard him softly sobbing on his side of the bed, his brave exterior crumbling in the face of the realization that he wouldn’t have her for much longer. She had wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that everything would be alright, but it would have been a lie, and so although her heart ached to comfort him, she stayed awake until the sobs were replaced by the sound of his steady breathing.
Her thoughts came back to the present moment. He was working on her bra strap now, his shaking hands fumbling like a schoolboy’s, and then he was crying, his face drooping almost to her lap, his dark head bobbing ever so slightly up and down as each agonizing sob wracked his torso.
“Hush…hush,” she whispered gently, stroking his dark hair lovingly, as the façade that he had put up for so long came crashing down.
“I,” and he sobbed, “don’t,” and he sobbed some more, “want you to die.”
“I should have been dead a long time ago, My Darling, but I’ve been living on love.”
“I can’t…” he struggled to pull himself together, “live without you.”
“Yes you can,” she said softly. “You need to for Talitha’s sake. She is still so little, and she will need you to be there for her.” She had taken his head onto her lap to comfort him as best she could. “We have had five wonderful years together. We have loved each other like no other lovers ever have and I wouldn’t trade those years for any number with another man. Let me be Kent London’s woman for five years and die contented than be someone else’s wife for fifty and live a life of mediocrity.”
“How will I get up each morning and carry on as if you are still here? How can I be strong for Talitha when I have no strength for myself?”
“You will find the strength to go on. I may not be here beside you, but you will always carry my love in your heart. That way we will never be separated.”
“I can’t bear it, Christy; I can’t bear the thought of living another forty years without you.”
“In time it will get easier for you. You are still young, and you will meet someone one day who will help you to get over me.”
He sat up and placed his face into his hands. “How can you believe that? How can you believe I could ever love again after what we have had together?”
“They say time heals all wounds, Kent, no matter how deep and painful those wounds may be.”
She finished the job he had started, peeling her bra off and discarding it on the floor, and then she made love to him, gently and tenderly, as if it was their first time.
♥
Christy’s condition deteriorated rapidly from that point on. She rarely ventured out of the house now, and when she did Kent made sure she was wrapped up warm. She had lost so much weight to the ravages of the leukemia that she seemed to feel the cold even on the warmest of days.
Talitha understood what was happening. She knew she would not have her mummy for too much longer, and Christy was amazed that the little girl seemed to handle that knowledge much better than her daddy did. Perhaps it was her strong belief that her mummy would be in heaven waiting for her that pulled her through it, or maybe it was a case of her not really understanding that when mummy went she would never be coming back.
Jack had retreated within himself, reverting to the man he had become after the death of his wife. The aging blue eyes watched her sadly across the dining table at meal times as she struggled to find an appetite to eat the meals he cooked for her. She worried about what would happen to him when she was gone. He had always been a man who thrived on few but close relationships. He had already lost the person he had loved the most, and now he was about to lose the next in line. She hoped that he would have the good sense to put all his energies into building up his relationship with his granddaughter.
Summer wasn’t too far away, she was pleased about that. She didn’t want to die on one of these dreary spring days. She wanted to go out with the kiss of the sun on her face, and the song of the birds in her ears.
She would talk Kent into taking her out to Mark’s farmlet when the warmer weather started. He could set her up a chair under the shade of the old oak tree and she could watch Talitha ride her pony around the little paddock. Afterwards they could all sit down and enjoy a leisurely picnic together. They would have ham sandwiches’ with the English mustard that Kent liked so much, and the rock cakes that were Jack’s favorite, and of course ice cream for Talitha. Then they would wash it all down with ice cold ginger beer.
Afterwards, as they relaxed beneath the ancient trees branches Jack could entertain them with tales from his youth, and Talitha would play in the low slung branches as Kent held his wife’s hand and whispered in her ear how much he loved her. That was living. That was what life was meant to be about, and she looked forward to it with an eagerness that defied her true condition.
She would like Kent to take her out in the Bonnie Lass one last time too. Just the two of them alone out there on the water, with the summer breeze brushing past her face and the taste of sea salt on her lips, and if God willed it a pod of dolphins for her to marvel at like she had on their first date over five years ago. If she had to die then she wished to go out with a bang and not a whimper. When her mother had died from meningitis she had succumbed to it so quickly that she had not had the chance to say her goodbyes. She had missed out on telling her dearest how much she loved them. But unlike her mother Christy had been given fair warning of her fate, and she was determined to use the time she had left wisely. Each of her three loved ones would experience what she held in her heart for them before her time on earth was through, and so when she was called to join her ancestors she would depart in the knowledge that she was leaving behind a legacy of love.
By the time early summer arrived Christy’s weight had plummeted to a shade over seven stone. Her body was weak, but her indomitable spirit kept her strong.
She had her picnic at the farm. In fact, she enjoyed it so much that she insisted upon several. She even got her day out on the water with Kent, and he had gently lowered her complete with life jacket into the water when eight dolphins turned up to play alongside the boat. She had laughed so much that day as they danced and frolicked around her that her ribs had ached for days afterwards. But what a summer she had given to her family. A summer they would all remember for the rest of their lives.
Kent and Jack had planned a party for her thirty-third birthday which was four weeks after Christmas, and Christy was looking forward to it, just themselves and a few close friends. Kent had decided he would organize a big screen to be set up in the lounge, and a few of Christy’s favorite gangster movies would be shown.
As Christmas drew near her condition deteriorated further, and she sensed she didn’t have long to go.
“Kent…” she said one evening as she lay in his arms listening to the crickets outside her bedroom window, “when I’m buried I want you to promise me you’ll visit my grave every year on my birthday.”
He didn’t answer just continued to stare at a spot on the ceiling.
“I know you don’t want to think about that yet,” she said softly, “but I would rest a lot easier if you would promise me that you will.”
He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “I promise,” he said quietly.
“And will you promise me you will be there at exactly six o’clock on the evening of my birthday?”
“Yes,” he said, but his eyes betrayed his puzzlement at the specific request.
“And will you bring me one red rose and place it on my headstone?”
“Yes,” he promised again.