Gold Raven (60 page)

Tears rushed her eyes as her screaming released a sledgehammer
within her head. She fell back in her seat and pressed her fingers to
her throbbing temples. Rory sat with wide eyes shocked by her
outburst, angry and hurting; he leaned back on his seat and kicked the
moving coach door open launching himself from it, just as Rollo
was pulling it to a stop to see what he'd said to her to make her
scream so. Rory landed and rolled to his feet as if all
in one motion,
sprinting off,

Lena was holding onto her head, unable to move as the pain
increased to unbearable. She was on the verge of sobbing, it
was all too much; never ending... nothing in her life ever seemed to
go right.

It was starting again, crazy zig zagging images and faces, darting
forward and backward in her mind. She bit into her tongue, wanting
to scream in madness, but the pain in her head commanded that she
had better not. Leaning back on the cushion, tears streamed as Rollo looked in on her.

"Ms Lena, Ms Lena, lord, just wait Ms Lena, I get you
home, hold tight, I get you home."

"Please, please Rollo—please—please...its.. .its..."

"Hold tight, Ms Lena...hold tight." He tried to calm her,
nervous and worried, he closed the door back, but the latch was
broken. She would have to endure it opening and closing all the way
home.

Chapter Twenty-Four

As soon as they pulled into the long driveway, curving up to the
colonial mansion, Rollo brought the landau to a stop before the wide sweeping stairs leading to the front door. Leaping from his seat, he went to the door, swinging it out of his way to find Lena writhing in
agony. He reached inside and gathered her in his arms. She could only
whimper, from the pain the abrupt rise into his arms gave her.

Sheldon, Sandra's indentured British butler, who was always alert
to arrivals stood with the door open as Rollo raced up the stairs and
in with her. "Oh Rollo, my head." She whimpered.

"I know Ms Lena, I know." He sympathized. Sheldon stood
aside shaking his head, "Oh my, is it another?" He asked as Rollo
took to the stairs, helpless as to the pain it would cause her but also
knowing little could be done to prevent it

"Yeah, she got to arguin' wit' that boy of hers, he jump out the
coach, damn fool!" Rollo informed him over his shoulder, heading for Lena's rooms.

"How dreadful." Sheldon muttered.

At the bottom of the stairs, Sandra appeared. "Was that Lena and
Rollo, Sheldon?" She asked, climbing the steps. "Yes madam. I fear
she is suffering from one of those headaches again. It seems young Rory has argued with her and took off in a huff."

Sandra wilted, picking up her skirts she raced up the rest of the
stairs. "Get her medicine Sheldon, hurry, the pain gets furious after a
while."

"Right away madam."

"I'm okay now, really I am."

"Are you sure Lena? Maybe I should call Dr. Milliot? I worry so about you and these dreadful headaches. There are times I fear they're
getting worse." She worried.

"Sandra, there's no need. I'm okay now, the medicine is already
taking the pain away, I'm fine." She assured her employer as Sandra
pulled the wet cloth from her head, staring down at the white streak
of hair from Lena's hairline.
She hated that white streak, every time she stared at it - it was sure
to bring her down, making her shiver to know how it came to be
there,
"I think I'm going to call on him anyway, just to be sure. It can't
hurt."

"Sandra! Enough...I'm fine." Lena lay with her hand over her
forehead, trying to decide if she would get up now, or later.

"All right, all right." She sighed. "I take it Rory didn't like you
meeting him again."

Lena gently shook her head, then leaned up and pushed back
against her headboard. "I don't know what's happening with him,
Sandra. He's getting worse I fear."

"He needs you to love him Lena, that's what he needs. Why do
you act as if you hate him, he's your son."

"I don't hate him!"

"Then why do you resent him?"

"I just went through this with him...I don't feel like going
through it with you as well."

"Lena... your son needs you to hug him, he needs-…”

"Sandra, you don't understand. An-n-nd, its too late anyway.
Even if I tried now, he would reject me."

"I don't believe that. He loves you; it’s just buried under his anger
and resentment. I don't understand why you refuse him affection.
You pretend to be so cold and uncaring, but I know better."

"Well, since my heads better now, I should get up. I have a lot to do today with the books." Lena cut in to change the subject.

"The books can wait. Why do you always do this...close up when
it comes to the subject of loving your son, as if you fear talking
about it."

Lena ignored her as she climbed from the bed and went to her
vanity, where she sat and went about brushing her hair to place it
back in the bun Sandra had loosened to help relieve her headache.

Sandra conceded as she sat watching Lena.

This lost and wandering woman had become her best friend,
confidant and employee. Yet, she remained after all the years of living
with her, a mystery. Never had she met anyone like her, brave, honorable, honest, hard working, intelligent, beautiful and … cold.
Not at first, not when she had first arrived. It started after she’d lived at
Sinclair House a while.
When her sister and brother-in-
law brought her there, passed out cold from an obvious breakdown,
whether it had been from hunger, or emotional anguish, or escaping
slave captivity, it had not mattered to her. She had been crying out for
someone by the name of, Hope. Babbling through her tears and
delirium about a child, as well as someone called Manny.

Sandra blushed feeling awful that she gave no aid to helping her trace the person, Manny. She couldn't at the time; her own life was in such turmoil that there was little she could do to assist her. Besides, at the
time... she didn't wish to give her up. Lena had been all there was for
her. Coming into her husband’s home, none of his servants offered
her the tiniest bit of consideration, help or care. Where as Lena seemed
to be someone she could talk to, turn to when she needed to escape. At the time of her arrival, the Sinclair home was one where each person
dwelling there needed to tread carefully. She had needed someone
urgently then. Lena had been a blessed escape for her, a brief
escape … but her stronghold in the storm. Yet, as time went by, and
Lena stayed, she realized that she
was
suffering from a breakdown of
some sort. Slowly, over the stretch of weeks, she had come out of it.
Never mentioning either of the names again, all they knew about her
then was that her name was Lena, just Lena. It also came to her
attention that men were out looking for Lena, asking about a Negro
woman fitting her description. With every visitor, Lena would run and
hide so Sandra and the servants always said the same; that they had never seen or heard of any such person.

Whoever they were, they frightened her. Sandra, as well her
servants always figured she had been an escaped slave being sought
out by her master; nevertheless, time spent with her had placed doubt
to that.
There was a mystery to her that ran deep, the question was, who was she really?

As Sandra sat staring at her re-pinning her hair
, she knew
in her heart, to someone — she was precious and missing; she was also
willing to bet that whomever searched for her, wanted her back at any
cost. For the time being, she was there and Sandra would do all to keep her there, where, for now, she was safe and hidden. Watching
Lena smooth her hair into place, Sandra could not resist broaching
the one subject that stirred her conscience.

"You know." She started hesitantly. "Madam Joaquin, I hear
umm, rather … that she has fashioned, the widest range of
colors ... for ... the hair and well-..."

"No." Lena knew where that was going, and gave her firm answer
holding a pin open with her teeth and fingers, while holding a
stubborn spot with the other hand.

"Oh Lena! Why will you not tint it? I'm sure she could match up
your color."

"Nooo!"

"You know how seeing that upsets me." Sandra complained,
trying to keep control of her emotions. Lena turned on the bench to
face her. "I don't mean to upset you Sandra, but I don't wish to cover it up. It reminds me of who I am and my life... my real life. It keeps
me from slipping into silly dreams and beliefs. It helps me keep in
mind what is real. The way things really are for someone like me." She tried to explain.

"Well it only reminds me of my weakness! And - that nightmare!
That horrible - horrible nightmare! The way I let you - oh Lena!
Please! Do it for me! Please! How can you be so cruel as to continue
to remind me of that!" Sandra stood shaking, tears falling from her
eyes. Continuing, she cried dramatically, "I'll tell you why you won't! Because you've never forgiven me! That’s why you won't color it! You
want me to suffer! You want me to remember! You don't want me
free from that hell! I said I was sorry! How many times must I say it!-
“

"Sandra-..."

".. .-How many ways must I prove how sorry I am!"

"Sandra stop-..."

"No! I won't stop! I'm sorry! I'm sooo sorry!" Tears were
streaming from her eyes.

"Sandra, it's not true, what you're saying, I know you're sorry."

"If that were true you would do it for me! I've done everything in
my power to make it up to you - but you
want
to keep on punishing
me!”

“
What more can I do?! How else can I prove it?! I'm sorry! Do you hear
!!! So sor - reee!" She screamed hysterically,
wishing to pull her hair out, she ran from the room sobbing. Lena
inhaled deeply, releasing her breath as she heard Sandra running
down the hall, bawling as she went. Turning back to her mirror, she
sat and stared at the white streak. Regardless of what Sandra believed,
she had never really blamed her for what had happened. "Precious God
up in heaven, will my life ever be anything more than misery and
turmoil? Will there ever, be an end to this?"

Staring at her own reflection, her heart picked up speed beating.
Finally, after years of forbidding herself to ever speak his name, something then made her do it.

"Manny, oh Manny; will I ever see you again?" She
shook her head thinking out loud, "... after all this time, do you
know, that I still ... love you? How — can that be possible? It's true,
no matter how I try, I can't forget you; nor will your son let me. Oh
Manny ... I've made a fine mess of him. Want to hear something
strange, something ironically strange? Two I loved with all my heart
and soul, yet...they were taken away from me. And ... I thought I
would die. Yet, I was not blessed with death; perhaps because in my
womb, I carried another. I was so scared ... so scared ... don't you
see, I had to push him away. I had to - before it was too late and he
was taken from me as well. So I, prepared myself ... I - I ... Manny -I rejected him." She quieted looking through the mirror, seeing a
nother time, and another place. "Look at him now. He's still
here, why? I don't understand. Don't you see ... I had to get myself
ready to lose him as well ... I had to."

Lena sat gazing at herself, seeing Manny — and the truth of what
she had done hit her. She covered her mouth as it dawned on her, and swallowed the outcry. "Oh my God! What have I done?! What have - I done? Oh Rory, what have I done to you?" She ended with a moan.
Shaking her head, she needed time to sort things out; time to get
herself back to the woman she had once been. Taking several deep
breaths to steady the runaway beating of her heart, she thought about her son. "How do I make this right?" Having no immediate answers,
she looked to the door. With a sigh, she rose and went out and down
the hall to Sandra's room, where the sobbing would continue until
Lena went and comforted her; telling her that it was okay... that
everything was going to be just fine.

* * *