Breathless (34 page)

"For good?" Charlotte finished for him, her voice breaking. She shook her head. "He didn't even say goodbye to me."

Lewis sighed in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. You know how Jack is. So unpredictable. And so terrible with his feelings. That's why we already said our goodbyes, even before he left for the theatre last night."

"He slept in my bed!" Charlotte cried. "He was with me all night! And he didn't even breathe a word of a goodbye. I thought we would say them in the morning, but he left before I even woke. What kind of a goodbye is that?"

"I'm so sorry, Charlotte," Lewis told her again. "But this isn't for forever-"

"How do you know?" Charlotte asked, breaking away from him. "Nothing is for certain!" She bit her lip and shook her head, her cheeks wet with hot tears and her skin clammy. "I've maybe lost him forever," she whispered. Terrified at this thought, Charlotte fell away from Lewis and ran from the room, up the staircase, forcing herself not to look at Jack's door which was so blatantly across from hers. She couldn't even bear the thought of that, having all of his things so nearby.

Shedding her pajamas and throwing a dress over her head, she left her room in a hurry, slamming the door behind her. She brushed past Lewis on her way out of the house, but she didn't say a word to him. She couldn't. All she could do was think of Jack and how she might never see him again. It was all she could think of as she slammed the front door shut behind her, just like he had done so many times when she still disliked him for being such an ungrateful, rebellious child.

He was all she could think about as she walked down the pavement, her shoes clicking against the stones, remembering how he had walked her home from school. But now there was just the sound of one set of footsteps instead of two. The London streets were full of memories, from the restaurant where the family celebrated his eighteenth birthday to the curb he pulled up to in his Aston Martin. The cemetery where they liked to be alone together. The bakery he liked his croissants from. Everywhere she turned, she saw Jack. There was no getting away from him. So Charlotte went the only place where she knew she could be herself, by herself.

Sitting on the dark stage at the new theatre, Charlotte let her legs dangle from the edge, her hands folded on her lap, her head bowed, tears still falling from her eyes, creating wet bots on the lap of her skirt. How could he have done this to her?
I never should have trusted him,
she cried.
I should have known not to.

Then, there was the sound of quiet footsteps and someone unsteadily sat beside her on the stage. The person was familiar, Charlotte knew without even looking up, and she wiped her wet face. "Wesley," she managed to whimper.

He put his hand over hers and said quietly, "What's the matter, love?"

Charlotte looked up at him through her tears. Wesley, as always, was there for her with his soft brown eyes and calming, reassuring voice. But even with him, she felt unsteady and weak. "Jack," she finally told him, her voice breaking over the name. "He's gone. I think he left earlier, while I was sleeping. He didn't even say goodbye."

Wesley's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't say anything.

Charlotte shook her head. "I just don't know what to do anymore. Helen...she was like a mother to me. I could talk to her about anything and I knew she would care to listen, even if she was busy, even if she was tired or in a bad mood. Because she cared about me. She loved me. And...," she sighed unsteadily. "Now I'm realizing that maybe if I had given my own mother a chance...and had not been so terrible and rebellious, that maybe I could have been able to talk to her too. Maybe she cared a lot more than I thought she did. Because all mothers care about their children. I can't believe I was too stupid to realize that. I can't believe I was stupid enough to think that my own mother didn't care about me."

"Charlotte, that wasn't your fault-"

"Was it my fault that I didn't appreciate Luc like I should have?" Charlotte asked. "Because I should have. I should have realized that he only wanted the best for me. I shouldn't have resented that he was the favorite child of my parents. Or maybe he wasn't even the favorite. Maybe that's just what I was telling myself in order to have an excuse to hate Mother and begrudge Papa." She laughed incredulously. "And now Papa is dead. And I can't even tell him I'm sorry." She paused and looked back down at her palms. "And so is Helen. And...I love all of you, our new cast. But every time I say lines as Emily, I can't help but think, in the very back of my mind, that I
took
this role from Helen. This should have been hers. And now I have everything that she was meant to have. But now the worst of it all," she said, the tears once again falling, "is that Jack is gone. And I didn't do anything to stop him. He's gone and I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Wes was quiet for a few moments as Charlotte wept beside him. Finally, thoughtfully, he asked Charlotte, "Did you ever tell Jack how you felt about him?"

Charlotte shook her head, remembering how intimidating she had always found Jack and how hard it had been for them both to finally begin to open up. "No," she admitted.

Wesley looked at her seriously. "You should. You need to. You need to go find him and tell him before he leaves...or else you'll always have regrets. You know you will."

"Wes..." Charlotte shook her head. "I think he's already left. He's gone."

"You don't know that," Wesley told her. "Go find out before it's too late. You're wasting time, Charlotte. You need to find him before it's too late."

Charlotte took a deep breath but nodded. She knew he was right. She got to her feet and ran to the wings of the stage where she knew there was a telephone that Mr. Olivier always used. She rang the Carey's home telephone number, but no one picked up. "Dammit!" she cried, slamming down the phone in frustration. "They're not answering!"

"Come on," Wesley said, taking his crutches from the side of the stage and leading her away. "I'll drive you back to the house. I have my car."

"Oh thank you, Wes!" Charlotte cried, following his rapid pace out to his car which was waiting by the curb. He drove her through the familiar streets of London at an alarmingly fast pace, as if he wanted her to find Jack almost as much as she did. And looking out at the streets flying past her window, Charlotte no longer tried to shove away the memories of Jack. Instead, she welcomed them, savoring every moment that they had been together. Just in case there would be no more future moments.

After casting a grateful glance at Wesley, who called at her to hurry, she wrenched open the front door of the house. "Jack!" she cried, running inside. "Jack!" But there was no answer to her call. There seemed to be no one home. Lewis wasn't even in his office. Charlotte ran throughout the house calling for Jack, looking in the kitchen, running to the parlor, darting up the stairs to his room. "Jack!" she cried, wrenching open the door. But he wasn't there. His books were still scattered across his room, his papers a mess on the desk, his bed untidy and unmade, clothes laying on the floor. She expected him to walk out of the washroom at any moment, but he didn't. He really was gone.

Charlotte let out a sob and covered her face with her hands, hoping this was all just a dream. But it wasn't just a dream. It was a nightmare. And she was living it. She let herself cry, feeling completely defeated, and walked out onto his balcony, where they had once talked a very long time ago. She dropped to the ground and threaded her legs through the columns of the balcony's banister, letting them dangle, while she rested her head against it and wept.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the open air, quiet tears still falling down her cheeks. "I should have told you everything while I had the chance." She shut her eyes tightly and hugged her arms to her chest, wishing with all of her being that she could just see him one last time. Just one last time.

Then there was a soft touch as she felt a palm against her back.

Charlotte's eyes opened in shock and she turned, not quite believing it. Although her all of her senses told her it was really true, it seemed too miraculous to really be. But there he was, with his military-short slicked hair, his ruddy cheeks, his khaki uniform, his bright blue eyes smiling at her, but his brow furrowed as he glanced over her tear-streaked face and he reached to brush them away with the tips of his fingers.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked in a sweet, quiet voice, as if it were from a dream.

"Jack," she gasped, but she could hardly breathe. And then, bursting into tears again, she threw herself into his arms, but this time with a ridiculously large grin upon her face. "Jack!" she cried. "Oh, you're really here! You haven't left me!"

Jack embraced her, pulling her to her feet. Charlotte felt so weak that she could barely stand, but it didn't matter. Jack was holding her so close and so steadily. She felt safe in his arms, as if nothing would ever hurt her. But it was not herself that she was worried about.

"Jack," she breathed, pulling back but not letting go of him. "Jack, I was so worried that you had left without saying goodbye. I was so terrified that I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to you."

"No, Char," he told her quietly, brushing her hair from her face. "I could never do that to you."

"I was so afraid," she said, piercing him with her dark-eyed gaze. "Because there was something that I needed to tell you...that I was worried I wouldn't get the chance to." Jack looked down at her, his face open and his eyes curious.

Charlotte reached up to cup his face with her palm. "I love you," she finally told him, a smile breaking across her face. "I love you so much that it almost hurts. And I love you in a way that I've never loved anyone else before. When I first came from Paris, you were right. I was selfish and spoiled and closed-minded. When I left Paris, I thought that the only person in the world who I truly loved was my brother Luc. But then I came here. And I learned, slowly, that there are so many ways to love. There's the brotherly love, the one that I feel about Luc and Topher and even Wesley. And there's the motherly love that I feel about Helen and even my own mother. And then there's the love that I had for Lewis and my Papa. There's my friendly love that I have for my castmates and Celia.

"And then there's you-the love I have for you. It's like nothing I've ever felt before. It's...painful. And sometimes frustrating and aching. But most of the time it's exciting and thrilling. And whenever I hear your name my heart leaps. And whenever I smell your cologne, my breathing comes a bit faster. And when you're around, I can feel my heartbeat speed like your Aston Martin. And I can't help it. I wish I could help it. Because you're so difficult sometimes and it's so hard to ever know what you're thinking. I wish I could fall in love with someone much easier than you. But I've learned it doesn't work that way. You don't get to choose the person you fall in love with. I didn't choose to fall in love with you.

"But," Charlotte finished, her face breaking into a smile, "if I did get to choose, I would choose you." She looked at Jack, laughing happily, glad that he finally knew. And glad that she had finally admitted it all to herself.

Jack looked down at her, his arms still around her, his eyes searching her face, as if memorizing everything about it. She looked back at him, for a moment worried that he didn't feel the same way, that he thought everything she had just told him was silly or childish. But all of her fears were swept away when he pulled her to him and kissed her.

It was like magic, like nothing Charlotte had ever felt before. She reached around his neck and pulled him closer to her, kissing him back deeply, showing him just how much she loved him. She knew could never show him just how much she loved him, but this was a perfect way to begin. As he gently combed his fingers through her hair and held her with his other arm, Charlotte realized that maybe he had been holding back the same feelings that she had. Why had they been so scared when everything was so perfect?

After those few perfect moments, Jack finally pulled back and touched his forehead to Charlotte's, quietly telling her, "I want you to wait for me. When I come back, I want to be able to know that you'll be here waiting for me."

Charlotte bit her lip, fighting back tears. "Jack, you know that I want to go back to France. You know that I want to travel." She clasped her hands around his neck and whispered to him. "But I promise...when you come back and step off that train, I'll be there standing on the platform waiting for you."

Jack's face broke into a grin and he leaned in to kiss her once again. Then he sighed heavily. "I have to go," he told her quietly.

Charlotte nodded. "I know."

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand once more before he turned back inside his room and slung a bag over his shoulder. Charlotte followed him out of his room to the staircase and stood beside the banister as he began to descend the stairs. But then, he turned around and looked back up at Charlotte with a smile on his face.

"I always loved you," he told her honestly. "I did, Charlotte. But there was something about you...that just sparked fear in me. Maybe it was your intensity. Maybe it was your passion. But...those are the things I love most about you."

Charlotte walked to him and took his face in her hands, kissing him once again. He reached up and kissed her back. And that's when she knew that it was true. He loved her back just as much as she loved him.