CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL

by Marcher   (gama39@austarmetro.com.au)

PG13


Chapter 9 ~  THE SPOKEN WORD ~ THE SPED ARROW ~ AND THE NEGLECTED OPPORTUNITY


Evelyn opened her eyes, but just slightly.  The room was dark, save for the gentle glow of the bedside lamp, but harsh enough to make her squeeze her eyelids shut then flutter them to adjust to the light. 

Everything was quiet.  No murmured voices.  No sound of Alex skittering his route between furniture, or footsteps of any kind.  Not even the clinking of crockery.  Nothing to suggest that another soul was awake or even present.

An overwhelming exhaustion hung over her and her body felt unusually heavy, even in this prone state.   Staring up at the drab cornice, she set her mind to remembering events prior to her loss of  consciousness.  It seemed a wasted effort in any case as her recollection was really nothing more than a patchwork of bits and pieces.   The one thing which did stand out in memory was was Alex's distress, but in the current silence there was no way of telling how long ago that was or if  Rick had been able to calm him.  The rest was just a blur of words, movement and pain.   There was something else too.  A feeling of blame; a belief that she had engineered the whole sorry episode herself through sheer obstinacy.  Still, things appeared to be better now and she promised herself, that in future, she would  heed the requests of her husband and Doctor Campbell.

Sleep was creeping over her eyes, her body totally unconcerned with her short span of wakefulness or her mind's desire to remember.  Turning her head into the pillow after a slight battle to keep herself awake,  Evelyn closed her eyes.  Instantly, the scent of clean linen against her cheek renewed her fight and her eyes shot open through curiosity.  By now her vision had adjusted to the light and she saw the shadowed form of her husband apparently sleeping in the chair beside her.  The room was still peaceful and  Evelyn smiled warmly at the man relaxed  before here.   'Things are well now, Darling.'  she thought and placed a hand to belly, expecting to rub the bulge of her baby. 

Nothing!  

Hastily lifting her head, she stared at herself in shock and  incredulity "I've had the baby!"   The sudden impulse to sit up and look for her child was sharply thwarted by a savage sting of pain, so severe and unexpected it made her yelp loudly into the silence. Within moments, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another about her chest, gently lowering her back onto the bed.  The pain subsided somewhat, but remained, and the hushed blather pressed against her ear soon began filtering through clearly as Rick's voice urging her to lie still. 

"There you go."  His hand slipped away from her back to push a stray curl from her eye.  His voice quiet and gravelled;  and although she could smell the whisky on his breath, it was plain he wasn't drunk.  "Nothing too frisky for a few weeks yet, okay.  You've had a pretty rough time."    Looking  into her eyes, he attempted a smile but knew it must have appeared more like a grimace and he mentally kicked himself at only being able to curl one corner of his mouth.

Trying to turn her shoulders towards him only resulted in another surge of pain and she gasped, holding her breath until it passed.  She groaned in frustration and regret at having moved so suddenly when she realized the baby had been born.  Now it was clear this discomfort  was going to continue for some time yet.  Rick squeezed her fingers gently, again insisting that she not try to move again.  "Best to be still for as long as you can, Honey."

Running her tongue across her dry lips, she let her head rest in the palm of his hand and gladly sipped from the glass he offered, before easing herself back down.    "What happened?  Where's the baby?"   Still unaware of  Rick's struggle to spare her the news as long as possible,  perhaps even mistaking his sombre mood for fatigue, a mischevious sparkle flickered in her eyes right before she teased him triumphantly.  "I  was right, wasn't I?  We've got another little boy."  

Rick nodded, barely.  She frowned and looked properly into his eyes, searching for what she immediately suspected, yet feared too much to discover.  Those blue eyes seemed too full of concern;  ailed as she had never known them to be.

Evelyn's smile faltered with her voice, "Where is he?"  Her eyes darted about the room and spied the crib adjacent to Rick's back.   He still hadn't answered and when she spoke a second time her question was laced in fear.  "Rick?  Where is he?!"

"Evie..."

Her impulse was natural and ignorant of the stabbing pain.  Evelyn forced herself to sit all the way up and crane her head over his shoulder to see into the crib, but her resolve was quickly defeated by the sharp pangs and she started to tremble in Rick's steadying hold.

"Please Evie, lay back.  It's...it's not..." 

The fear gripping her heart was all consuming.  His eyes were saying more than his words ever could and once more Evelyn struggled in vain to free herself from his arms, and lost. Tears were beginning their bitter journey down her cheeks and Rick knew she would refuse to hear that which she probably already knew. 

"Sweetheart, please.  Just lie down and...."

"No."  It was a rueful whisper, all she could manage.  She hung her head, shaking it in defiance.  "Don't tell me this, Rick.  Not this!"

Still keeping himself between his wife and the crib, the ex-Legionnaire slowly lifted her face and broke the tragic news as carefully as he knew how.  "It didn't go well, Honey..."  The words stuck in his throat and he lowered his eyes, "...you were bleeding so much and..."  Looking at her now; seeing the silent distress streaming down her face made his task even harder, it was impossible to watch her any longer!   He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms about her, as if cocooning her would somehow lessen the blow.  "....we couldn't save him, Evie.  I'm just so, so sorry." The room was so silent he could hear the both of them breathing yet he could do little more than stroke her back ,  "I'm lucky I've still got you." 

Her body began to quake with silent sobs until her lungs heaved for air!  Her voice returned  with such a mournful cry, Rick had to swallow repeatedly to force down his own anguish, his voice completely lost.  His wife was collapsing in his arms through grief and at last he was able to gently guide her down onto her back.   He couldn't tell how much of her agony was caused by sorrow and how much by pain!  One was probably fusing with the other anyway and she was still vulnerable to infection in her weakened state. 
Keeping Evelyn well and calm had now become his main concern, but once again this day, Rick felt completely useless and out of his depth.  At best all he could offer her were his arms and a shoulder to weep on. 

She cried for longer he cared to remember.

~~~

It had been weeks since all the baby paraphernalia had been bundled into a chest and hidden beneath a white lace tablecloth and never mentioned since.  It was cleared away on Evelyn's request the day after her stillborn son was placed in her arms. 

Nor was Evelyn  present at the burial, only Rick and Jonathan.  She had been absolutely forbidden to venture from the confines of her bed under the warning that she would be risking her own life!  A sentence dutifully overseen by a kindly but stern nurse.  Part of  her soul weeped at not being there to see the tiny coffin lowered into the ground, yet somewhere deep down she was grateful at being spared a memory that would haunt the rest of her days.   Rick's face when he returned that day was ashen...almost beaten. 
However, not once had he reproached her in any way.  He delivered no blame, nor took it.  He simply never spoke of it.   If he had cried, well,  she wasn't witness to it.   Jonathan too was shaken by this whole accursed affair and Evelyn was forced to admit, at least for the time being, that he was better company than her husband.  Even though Rick had never actually accused her, she felt an underlying resentment from him and was more comfortable with her brother's company.

Evelyn herself, had become withdrawn and moody.  Occassionaly she would beam a genuine smile at Alex, but mostly it was a struggle to feign the good humour she was sometimes able to muster.  And, it was none too soon when she was finally given a bill of health from Ross Campbell and permitted to get on with her life and move about unquestioned.  In fact, it was nothing short of relief!  Lying about in bed being completely reliant on her husband and brother was only marginally less troublesome than the pain which nagged at her constantly.  As far as Evelyn was concerned, she had been given far too much time to stare at the ceiling and grieve.  Yet, even now with her renewed independence, she discovered she had little interest in moving any further than her closeted Fort Brydon quarters and tend to Alex's needs.  Deep down there lurked an awful guilt which she was not ready to face.  For now, at least, avoiding it seemed a gentler course for her heart to take.

These days, Rick would usually spend a few hours each morning just sitting with her, mostly in silence save for pleasantries here and there.  Whatever he was feeling, he wasn't saying.  Their time together usually ended when he left to 'sort out business' as he put it.  He never said exactly where he was going, or what business needed so much attention.  A point in matter Evelyn intended on taking up with him...perhaps tomorrow.  She shook her head and banished the notion, feeling that it would only initiate an explosion of suppressed emotions and each day when he closed the door behind him it was becoming routine for her to brush aside the tears and pretend that everything was fine.  

Today was no better than yesterday.  Jonathan had been absent all morning and she missed the nonsense of his chatter.   Rick had left their quarters almost an hour ago, leaving Evelyn  to potter aimlessly between the furniture and watch Alex sleep.  She hated the empty hours.   It was now she would think on Ethan and try to imagine him sleeping alongside his older brother instead of lying deep in the cold grave he shared with her parents.  The solitude was where she grieved and cried.  It was where she was haunted by guilt and blame.

It was now as she was lost in her sorrow, than the door swung open surprising her.  She quickly stood and rushed to the window making a vain attempt to hide her distress by pretending to rearrange a vase of flowers.  Her hands shook no matter how she tried to control them and concealing her tears required an absurd act of running the back of her hand over her face in a long swoop that would catch her hair and fling it over her shoulders.  Quickly glancing behind, she saw Rick standing just inside the room, his hand still clutching the doorknob.  On seeing her poorly disguised state he had stopped mid-step, suddenly unsure of what he should do.  He knew what she needed, it was exactly what he needed himself, but these recent weeks had seen him struggling with a pain he was ill equiped to handle.  It was of little consequence that Ross, even Jonathan, had assured him that his son's death was a blamless turn of events, he simply could not shake the guilt of having failed in saving him.   Or that Evelyn could have layed her work aside when the signs began pointing to trouble.  It was a double anger which had been burning in his heart and now when he watched her dealing with her own pain he was hard pushed to acknowledge it.  It was obvious she was trying not to let him see, so he released the door and stepped inside to retrieve his wallet from the desk.

"Those flowers look almost dead."  The tone of his voice barely disguised his disinterest in the floral arrangement, but at least it was something to say which would break the ice and play into her charade.

"They're not so bad.  There's at least a day left in them."

"Alex alseep?"

'Yes.  For about half an hour now."

He slipped the wallet into his hip pocket and walked slowly to the door.  Evelyn still hadn't turned around and he sighed softly, bemoaning the fact that their strained silences were becomming longer with each passing day.  "Good.  Gives you time to yourself to relax or whatever."  He reached for the door and was halted by his wife's choking call.

"Rick!"

He stopped and looked over at her.  Her cheeks were damp and her eyes red from crying.  She stood nervously wringing her hands and continually swapped her glance from the floor to him.

"Yeah?"

"I've had more than enough time on my own to relax." 

His mind quickly recalled from the time he first met her to right now.  It wasn't so long, but he couldn't name a single time when he had seen her as timid as how she stood before him now.

"I'm not sure I can handle much more."  This time when she met his eyes, hers were full of wishing and need, "It would be nice if you stayed rather than rushing off to wherever it is you're going."

He hesitated for only a moment then uttered the opposite of what he really knew he should do.  "I can't.  But I'll be back later."

Evelyn found her courage and tinged her voice with anger, "Well later won't do!  I'd like you to stay now!"

His eyes narrowed somewhat as his voice deepend., "What you'd like and what you get are two different things, Evelyn!  I'll be back later."  He turned away from her and opened the door.

"We can't avoid this any longer, Rick!  We simply must speak!"

Evelyn hadn't even realized she'd shouted until he responded in kind.  For the first time since their child's death his eyes and voice overflowed with a mix of pain and anger.  His voice boomed in her ears and stabbed at her heart.  "SPEAK?!"  Rick let go the door and took a step towards her.  "I've done nothing but speak for the last three months...and it's never done a damn bit of good!  Now all of a sudden you think it's a good idea?!"   Evelyn remained motionless, staring.  Stunned by an outburst which she knew full well was simmering quietly but was never really prepared for.  "Not this time, Evelyn.  Not now!"

"Why?"

"WHY!  Because I know I can't do this without saying a hell of a lot of things that I'm gonna regret later!  That's why!  I'm just notready to sit and listen to you cry without wanting to shake some sense into you!"  He drew a sharp breath and lifted his head towards the ceiling, desperately trying to hold back the worst of his accusations.  His  hands were level with his shoulder in a show of frustration and clenched into fists.  His next words were strained and angry, but it seemed to him they fell from his lips of their own accord,  "Without wanting to grab you by the hand, take you out there and make you stare down at his grave like I did!"

Her face went pale and she said nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  She just looked at him, hurt and guilty at the same time.  He knew he'd gone too far and stammered while he thought desperately of how to quash the spent rage which had been pent up for so long.  He couldn't.  Nor could he stand there a moment longer and look at what he'd just done to her.  He simply turned and walked out the
door.

~~~

The 3rd Regiment of the French Foreign Legion had began the process of bundling supplies and equipment in preparation for their impending departure from Cairo.   The camp was being disassembled piece by piece and anything which could be spared was being sold off to the locals with the profits going directly into the pockets of those quick enough to pawn the goods.  This was a common practice amongst the Legionnaires and one which went purposely unnoticed by the ranking Officers. 

Haris Furborough rolled his full pack, secured the leather belts on either side and fixed it firmly beneath the saddle of his horse.  All was in order save for one loose string.  He looked at his watch and smiled at the good time he'd made in packing.  Nothing but time until the Regiment pulled out.   Nothing but time to see an end to this O'Connell matter.  The perfect opportunity to take his revenge and disappear before the local authority was any the wiser.  He tapped the young Private Waters on the shoulder who responded with a nod and followed his Corporal into the Cairo alleyways.

~~~

The bar was almost empty, unusual for the time of day.  Apart from O'Connell and Carnahan, the other patrons were just a scattering of  locals immersed in topics of the day and one comotose upper-class Englishman slumped in his chair in the furthest alcove.  Earlier, as Jonathan had entered the bar, he had recognized the drunkard as the driver of the vehicle which had knocked him down and was tempted to whack the tippler over the head with his now omnipresent cane.  However the Lord of the Manor, as Jonathan had derided him, was too inebriated for any effective satisfaction, so as compensation, Jonathan stole the half full whisky bottle from his table and settled himself next to his brother-in-law at the bar.

Swallowing his third shot, Jonathan groaned in frustration and spun around on his stool to face O'Connell.  "You know, it's damn near impossible to get any sort of decent conversation from either you or my sister these days!" 

Rick let the bitter liquid slide over his tongue and silently placed his glass on the counter before turning to face Evelyn's brother.   "What would you like to talk about?"

On seeing the look in O'Connell's eye, Jonathan decided it was best to begin on mundane topics.  "How's your leg?"

"Better."

"I see you're still limping somewhat.  Must be still nagging at you, hey?"

"It's better than yours, then."

"Aaah."  Jonathan nodded and re-filled both empty shot glasses.  Raising his, Jonathan offered a light hearted toast.  "To better days ahead!" and O'Connell snapped.

"Better than this, you mean?  That wouldn't be too hard, would it?"  From the corner of his eye, he caught the image of Evelyn standing just outside the door.  Alex stood next to her clutching her hand, trying to pull his mother forward into the male bastion but was unable to make her budge.  Jonathan turned around as well, then flicked his eyes between the two O'Connell's hoping at least one of them would say something sensible.  But if wishes were fishes, he could have dragged the whole sea and come up empty handed.  The only words to pass between them was Evelyn's curt announcement that she was taking Alex for a walk.  Jonathan wasn't even sure if Rick had responded with little more than a nod before he turned back to the bar.

Evelyn vanished as quickly as she had appeared and Jonathan ventured a word of advice to Rick.  Most likely it wouldn't have helped much, but this was a discovery to be left unknown.  The raised finger and silent glare from the American was enough for Jonathan to merely lift the whisky bottle and top up his drink.