Page 76 of Rogue of My Heart

“Father, you really must sit down,” a young man’s voice said. “You are going to take a tumble and bump your head.”

They reached the doorway, and Edmond could see that the disturbance was in her father’s study. Her father was standing on top of his desk, waving a walking stick. He wore a dressing gown and sleep cap, and looked as if he weighed no more than a teen boy. Thin, wiry white hair stuck out from his cap and it appeared he hadn’t been successfully shaved in quite some time, as he had patches of white stubble along his jaw and chin.

Both Charlotte’s mother and younger brother were already in the room, doing their best to talk him down.

Charlotte stepped into the room. “Papa, I’m here now. Come, I want to read a new book to you.” Her voice was strong and no-nonsense.

Her mother and brother fell to the back of the room where he and Frannie stood. Charlotte continued to move forward, making her way straight to the desk. Edmond’s heart pounded relentlessly. She was going to get herself killed.

He made to move towards her, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked behind him and found Charlotte’s mother standing there, her gaze tilted to him. “Give her a minute.”

“He could hurt her,” Edmond said.

“Just a moment, and if I’m wrong, you may intercede. Please,” her mother said.

Keeping still and just watching was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. His wife was in danger of getting clubbed by a walking stick, and possibly getting toppled by her father. And Edmond was simply standing there, doing nothing. But he knew enough to recognize that to these people—this family—this wasn’t new.

Edmond knew all about protecting family secrets and managing issues that might appear frightening to an outsider. Some of his mother’s outbursts had been close calls where any one of them could have been injured.

He’d give Charlotte a chance to turn things around, but he’d step in if things looked any more dangerous.

“Papa, come,” Charlotte said again, holding her hand up to help him from his desk. He looked down at her, and something in his expression changed.

“Charlie? Is that you?”

“Yes, Papa, it’s me. Come down and I’ll read this book to you.”

There was no wavering in her voice, no pause in her words, she was steadfast and strong. Edmond couldn’t look away. His heart tightened in his chest, then double-thumped. As if it only just realized that it beat for her and for her alone.

Her father allowed her to help him down, and she gripped the older man’s hand while leading him to the settee. She grabbed a book off the occasional table beside her and patted the seat. Once he had settled onto the settee, laying his head in her lap, she opened the book and began to read.

Charlotte’s mother again touched Edmond’s arm. “It has been this way between the two of them since she was very young. Rutherford is quite a bit older than me, so he was rather mature when we had Charlotte. He had already begun to exhibit symptoms of senility. It has only gotten worse and worse as the years have progressed. He cannot go out anymore.”

“Has he ever hurt any of you? Or himself?” Edmond found himself asking.

“We’ve had a few accidents here and there. But for the most part he stays in his room. We used to have more assistance with him, but I fear the funds are not what they used to be,” her mother said. “He doesn’t usually get to this stage. Normally he’s more solemn, more grave.”

“And she...”

Her mother shook her head. “I’ve never really understood it. He’s always loved her the most. His Charlie, as he’s always called her. When she was young, she’d crawl up in his lap, pet his beard and sing him songs. She was utterly fearless of his moods. Even the times when he did not recognize her. She’d simply tell me that she’d be his new friend that day. Then she’d read. She started reading so early, loved books, stories or history or science, she didn’t care. She’d read constantly. Whenever she was missing, I’d inevitably find her hiding under a table with books surrounding her. He loved the sound of her voice, it would soothe him, still does.”

Sure enough, the older man had stopped yelling and instead was weeping, repeating, “I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m so sorry,” over and over again.

“Shh, Papa, everything will be all right,” Charlotte soothed as she ran her hand lovingly over his hair. Then she continued reading. It was the most maternal display Edmond had ever seen, and it was like an arrow to his heart.

“You know, he’s why she always said no,” her mother said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“To the proposals. All the gentleman who asked for her hand. She said no because she felt like since she and her father had this connection, she needed to here for him. It took me a long time to figure that out.” Her mother shook her head. “I wish I’d seen it sooner. I would have intervened. But then she wouldn’t have you, dear.”

A moment later and the rest of the Reed family was in motion. Her brother, mother, and sister cleaned up a broken glass, an overturned potted plant and a myriad of scattered books. He, himself, stepped forward and picked up an overturned chair.

“Who’s that?” he heard her father ask quietly.

“That’s Edmond, Papa. My husband. Remember, I told you all about him before my wedding?”

“Is he good to you, Charlie?”