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“Diane, I need to talk to you — privately,” he says.
He always gets right to the point, doesn’t he?
I think this is the first time he’s asked me himself, rather than recruited the butler or a servant to fulfill his lowliest of chores. His eyes look kind, as if some valve had been released during his sojourn. His voice is sweet, soft. I missed him so much. I try to stop myself from wondering if he missed me, too.
“Yes, my lord. I would be delighted to have a private audience with you,” I say.
I give mama and James a huge hug and kiss, and I follow Carmichael out. I feel like I’m about to walk through the threshold of my destiny, and I have no idea what fate holds.
18
CARMICHAEL
My thoughts are racing. I don't want her to go. What if she never returns? I would never force her to stay with me, but I need to keep her with me. The only thing that would make me happier is for her to be happy too. She deserves the world.
I am standing in my living room, hands gripping the back of a chair, staring into space, about how things might be with her in my life.
"I want to invite your mother and brother to stay here with us. I don't want you to be alone or bored here and I know how much you miss them. It is far too dangerous out there for you to leave so it seems like the only logical conclusion. You will all be safe. They will have everything they need here. They will never have to worry about hardships again," I say, not wanting to admit my fear that if she leaves she might never return.
The silence that follows this statement makes me think that I've done the wrong thing and made an awful mistake. I don't know how else to explain it and I wonder if I have upset her. But then I see her expression change from confusion to joy.
"I'm so happy you said that. I do miss them very much. And yes, we should ask them."
Her voice is full of excitement and I can tell she's going to cry again but at least now I understand where she was coming from.
It has taken me a while to figure out what her happiness truly is, and to realize that she wasn't trying to hide it. That she did want her family around her. Now that I know that though, I do not doubt that our relationship will be stronger than ever.
I lean over and kiss her, hoping to convey all the love and support I have for her. The words dance around my tongue, but never leave my mouth, for fear that she may not feel the same. I'm thankful she stayed here with me, despite knowing what kind of person I can be. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself above someone else. To sacrifice everything for them. But that is just part of loving someone, the way I love Diane.
Diane laughs softly at first, then cries. "Oh, Carmichael," she says through tears. "They'd love that! You're right. I think they should come here. You're a good man, and I'm thankful to you for this."
She hugs me again, and I hold her tight. We kiss passionately. I feel something new inside. When I touch Diane, when I look into her eyes, I realize there is so much more than lust or passion. There's affection, caring, friendship, devotion. It's an emotion I have never felt before. This feeling is what I've been missing my whole life, and it feels wonderful.
"I am happy to hear you say that. Why don't we take a walk outside for a bit?" I suggest, grabbing her hand.
She smiles at me as if it were something that she always wanted to happen and follows me out of the house.
We step outside together and walk around for a while. I hold her close, smelling her hair and feeling the warmth of her body. I kiss her again and again, wanting to make sure she knows how I feel about her.
"Can I ask you a question, my lord?" she asks.
"Sure," I say, still holding her hand.
"Why are you so rough with me?" she asks.
"Well, Diane, when I was young, my mother was very clear about how I should act. I took great offense when she called me names, criticized everything I did. It made me angry, so I lashed out in anger. It was the anger and strength she respected. Emotions were for the weak and I was not to show them. That's why I was always angry, and why I got myself into trouble so often."
There's a long moment of silence as Diane absorbs the words. When her voice finally breaks the silence it has taken on a hard edge.
"She told you that?" Her tone is sharp as she asks the question. There is nothing soft or gentle about her voice at the moment, and her eyes glow bright with emotion. "Your mother said that to you?"
I look down at the ground before, hands wringing together nervously as I try to think how to respond.
Diane takes a deep breath. She lets it out slowly, lets herself calm down a little bit. She needs to be coolheaded, because this is going to get ugly if she doesn't. And yet, here I am, spilling all my guts over her lap.
"I guess," I say quietly "That wasn't what you wanted to hear though."
"No, that wasn't what I wanted to hear, but I'm not sure what I was expecting to hear either. That must have been very difficult for you as a child," she says. The tone in her voice changes, just slightly, and suddenly she's looking right at me. There's something there, an understanding of what I'm going through that isn't quite visible, but there nonetheless. Her face softens a little, she puts a hand to my cheek and rubs gently back and forth with her thumb.
