OLIVIA
Chapter Twenty-Three

July, 1914

As the days wore on, June turned into July and with it came the summer heat. Every window in the room was open and both ceiling fans were on, stirring the air. Still, it was warmer than was comfortable, but the man who sat in the corner of the room looking over at his sleeping wife barely noticed. His clothes were disheveled, his hair mussed from the many times he had run his fingers through it, his face dark with five o’clock shadow and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He didn’t look anything like the cocky, arrogant man he had been days ago.

Cal stood and walked over to the bed where she lay. She looked so pale and fragile, lying there in their bed. His eyes scanned over her, taking in her appearance for the hundredth time since the night it had happened. A broken leg, two broken ribs, the left side of her face badly bruised from the landing she made on the hard tile floor. Not to mention all of the smaller bruises covering her here and there from her trip down the staircase. Guilt gripped him hotly…if not for him, she wouldn’t be lying there like this.

Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her small hand in his own, recalling the conversation with Dr. Covington a few days before.

*****

"Is she all right, doctor? Is the baby?" Cal asked anxiously. "Please, I have to know."

Dr. Covington shook his head sadly. "I’m sorry, Caledon. She’s lost the baby. The bleeding was extremely heavy; there was nothing I could do. If she can have anymore children remains to be seen. She’s young and strong and we can only hope for the best."

"But…" he started, then stopped. Words seemed inadequate for what he was feeling. The doctor patted him comfortingly on the back before leaving the room.

*****

Since then, Olivia had been in and out of consciousness, but not completely alert and awake for any length of time. He wanted to tell her…what? What could he say that would be enough?

He hadn’t even been able to pick her up and carry her up the stairs, such was his guilt. His valet had had to step in and do it. Rubbing his face, he tried to forget the sight of her lying bloodied and hurt on the ground, but he knew he never would. It would haunt him for the remainder of his days.

*****

Olivia stirred, feeling the dull ache of pain in her body. Through the haze of the grogginess, she immediately knew someone was beside her. When her hand was lifted, she slowly opened her eyes to see who it was.

Cal.

Grimacing, she closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to see him, at least not right now. Compared to the pain in her body, the pain in her heart was even greater. Seeing him only brought back unpleasant memories, memories she didn’t want to think of. He must have sensed her coming to, because he moved closer to her.

"Olivia, you’re awake. Thank God. I’ve been waiting for days to talk to you."

She turned her head away from him, wanting him to just go away.

"I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but please hear me out."

"Don’t," she whispered. "Just go away."

He frowned, seemingly hurt at her request. "Please don’t say that. You have to listen to me."

"No." She shook her head. "I can’t. Leave me alone."

Contrary to her words, he moved closer, bringing her hand to his lips. "I have to tell you something…something regrettable. This is very hard for me to say, but it’s the baby…it’s gone. I’m sorry."

A part of her reacted grievously to the news while another part of her felt nothing. Her baby was gone and she placed the blame squarely on Cal’s shoulders. Her eyes hardened, cool and icy upon him. "How unfortunate that you’ve lost the chance to collect your money."

Cal’s eyes widened at her statement. "Olivia." He shook his head in astonishment. "Surely you don’t mean that."

"Don’t I?" she responded stonily. "Money and your love of it cost our child its life. I can’t imagine anything more detestable than that."

"Don’t say that, please, Olivia…" He bent his head low, still gripping her hand in his own. "You don’t understand what I’ve been going through."

Olivia would have laughed at the irony of his words, but the pain was increasing while her patience was waning. She was simply in no position or frame of mind to take Cal’s self-pity right now. "Please leave," was all she could say to him. She meant it with every fiber of her being.

He stared at her for a moment, his face crestfallen. She hardened her heart against him. She honestly didn’t care what he thought or was feeling. She only wanted him gone. Maybe after a while she could face him, but for now the hurt was too raw, too fresh.

"Very well," he conceded dejectedly. "I’ll leave. Perhaps later, when you’re stronger and feeling better, we can talk."

When she didn’t answer, he laid her hand down slowly and stood. He paused for a moment, as if he were going to say something else, but he didn’t. He left her, closing the door quietly behind him. As soon as she was alone, she let her sorrow for her lost child come forth. She cried and cried until she had no more tears left. Finally empty and exhausted, she fell back into a deep sleep.

*****

Cal flung the door to the parlor open and stalked over to the bar. He grabbed the decanter of brandy, threw the glass lid aside, and sloshed the amber liquid into a tumbler. In one gulp, he tossed it back, letting the fiery taste of it slide down his throat. He reached for the decanter again, but stopped momentarily when his father entered the room.

"Caledon, I need to speak with you," Nathan said, closing the door behind him.

Glancing up at his father, he smirked and sloshed another drink into the tumbler. "Now’s not a good time, Father."

"It’s as good a time as any," the older man told him as he sat down and faced him. Cool, composed, unflappable…that was Nathan Hockley. He was still a handsome man, even at this stage of his life. He was dressed impeccably, as usual, nothing out of place, not even his dark hair, which was peppered with gray now. He crossed his legs and stared at his son in a no-nonsense manner.

"How is Olivia?"

Cal laughed sardonically and threw back the brandy, grimacing as it made its way down. He set the tumbler aside and ran his hands through his hair again.

"How is your wife, Caledon?" Nathan asked again, impatience lining his voice.

"She’s going to be fine, Father. It will be sometime until she’s completely mended, but Dr. Covington doesn’t foresee any serious problems," he answered perfunctorily.

"And what of children? Can she have more children?"

"I don’t know," Cal admitted. "Apparently there’s no way to tell about these things."

"Hmm…" Nathan grunted. "She’s young and strong. I’m sure this won’t hinder your efforts to try again when the time is right, of course."

"I wouldn’t be so sure of that," Cal muttered, reaching for the brandy again.

"I think you’ve had quite enough, Caledon. Gentlemen drink, they don’t get drunk. And what did you mean by your statement? Has something happened that I’m not aware of?"

Cal set the decanter down and looked at his father. All of his life, he had lived in the shadow of the great Nathan Hockley, always wanting to be just like him. He strove to do any and everything to make his father proud. Whatever it took, he was willing to do it. Marrying Olivia had been one of those things.

He came around to the front of the bar and leaned back against it, crossing his arms in the process. "My wife isn’t very fond of me at the moment. She practically ordered me out of our room a while ago. I don’t think she’s going to allow me the chance to try again."

Nathan leaned forward in his chair, his brows furrowed together. "What is this nonsense you’re babbling about? You’re her husband. It’s your place to be at her side at a time like this--"

"She knows," he cut him off. "She knows about the money."

"What are you saying? She knows? How could she know?" he thundered at him.

"We had a fight and she confronted me about it. She was nearly hysterical, and the next thing I knew, she was running out of the room. I ran after her, of course, but I couldn’t catch her before…" He paused. "…before she fell."

"This is preposterous." Nathan rose to his feet. "She couldn’t possibly know. And even if she did, there was no reason for her to be so reckless in her behavior. She put not only herself at risk, but the life of her unborn child as well."

"She was upset, Father. Understandably so." He defended his wife, although his actions may have been too little, too late. "She accused me of not caring for her…of marrying her only for money."

"There is little comfort in that now, Caledon. Whether you care for her or not is not the issue at the moment. That young woman upstairs is your wife, for better or worse. It’s your job to make sure that she is content in the marriage. It’s quite obvious you have failed miserably in that regard if that is the reason for her recklessness."

Stung by his father’s reproach, Cal stepped away from him. "Don’t lecture me about my marriage!" he snapped. "She’s my wife and my concern, not yours."

"You always were a stubborn fool," Nathan scoffed at him. "Need I remind you of another situation in which you didn’t listen to my lecture and lived to regret it?"

Cal spun around to glare at his father. "Don’t, Father. Just don’t," he warned.

"You were determined to have Rose, weren’t you? Even though I told you it would come to no good. I knew from the moment I met her that she would never conform to being the kind of wife you needed."

"I don’t wish to discuss this," Cal gritted through his teeth, but his father ignored him and continued on with his perusal.

"She was like a butterfly in a cage, always looking for the slightest opening to escape. And yet, it was because of that that you had to have her, wasn’t it? But did you listen to me? No. Of course not."

"That has nothing to do with what’s happening now, Father." Cal pointed at him. "What happened with Rose is said and done and over. I don’t need you reminding me of it every time you’re displeased with me."

"Then listen to me now, by God! You will do whatever needs to be done to make this right. I don’t care what you have to do. Just do it. Take her on a trip when she’s recovered. She hasn’t gotten away from here since the twins were born."

He needed a drink. Cal stalked over to the bar and poured another shot of brandy. As he lifted the tumbler to his mouth, his father stepped over to him, scowling. "Drinking yourself into a stupor won’t change what’s happened. For God’s sake, look at you. Your appearance is appalling."

"Disappointing, am I?" Cal snarled. "But, then, I have always been, haven’t I? Nothing I did ever pleased you, even though God knows I tried."

"Stop sniveling and feeling sorry for yourself," Nathan chided him harshly. "I want this matter taken care of, and I don’t care what you have to do to make it right. Whatever Olivia thinks she knows doesn’t matter. I doubt she has any proof. But hear me, and hear me well, Caledon. I made the offer to you as an opportunity to show me what you’re made of. Before I hand everything over to you, I want to know you can run my money and Hockley Steel the way it was meant to be run."

"I have done everything you’ve asked of me," Cal replied grittily. "When is it enough? When do I become trustworthy?"

"That remains to be seen. I suggest you get your personal life in order first." He straightened his tie and coat. "I will be leaving now. Your mother is expecting me home at seven."

Cal didn’t say anything, but still held the drink in his hand.

"Summon McBride and get yourself cleaned up. You’re a Hockley, not a common wino on the street. And one more thing," he said as he stopped at the door. "Speaking of McBride, I’d keep my eye on him, if I were you. Something in his demeanor this evening didn’t seem right."

"In what way?" Cal asked, setting the tumbler down.

"It may or may not be anything, but it seemed to me he was more than a little concerned with your wife’s well-being."

"Don’t be ridiculous." Cal dismissed him with a derisive laugh. "In fact, I have never heard of anything so ridiculous. The man works for me. He and Olivia have barely spoken two words to each other the entire time he’s been here."

"All the same, just be aware. I haven’t raised you to be a fool."

Before Cal could respond, his father opened the door and was gone. Left alone, Cal looked around the emptiness of the parlor and saw touches of Olivia everywhere. Thoughts of her in her condition upstairs came back to him, and so did his guilt. Looking down at the brandy, he lifted and threw it back in one swift motion. As he swallowed it, he didn’t think one more would hurt anything, and in spite of what his father said, he wasn’t feeling very much like a gentleman at the moment. In fact, he felt anything but.

He lifted the decanter again, dispensing with the tumbler altogether. Tonight he wanted to be in a drunken stupor--he wanted to be completely stinking, rotten drunk…he’d worry about being a gentleman tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty-Four
Stories