Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
sorry,” he said. “I just…I guess I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.”
It was the truth, but he could see honesty wasn’t going to get him anywhere with Charlotte tonight.
She crossed to the stove and began shoveling chopped vegetables into a pot.
“I understand,” she said coolly.
But she didn’t, and he knew he had some heavy spadework ahead to soothe her ruffled feathers.
Dinner was tense. Charlotte apologized too many times for the soufflés, then made stiff, overly polite conversation with Maddy throughout the main course.
She resented Maddy for knowing more about his life than she did, he guessed. The age-old instinct to shoot the messenger. He was doing his best to ease the tension when a high-pitched scream echoed through the apartment.
“Eloise,” Charlotte said, standing abruptly. “She’s been having nightmares lately.”
She’d barely taken two steps before Eloise hurtled into the room, her mouth open in another earsplitting scream. Her dark hair, cut in a shorter version of Charlotte’s bob, was tangled and matted around her sweaty, tear-streaked face. Her nightgown was damp around her middle, clinging to her small frame. He guessed she’d wet the bed.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Mama is here,” Charlotte soothed in French, getting down on her knees to scoop Eloise into her arms.
Eloise was so distressed she fought against her mother’s embrace, her body bowing backward, her arms and legs thrashing around.
His three-year-old niece had been diagnosed with autism eighteen months ago, and Charlotte fought a constant battle to connect with her youngest child. Early intervention, expensive private therapies and the best nutrition money could buy were all strategies she and Richard were employing in an attempt to improve Eloise’s condition, but they could only achieve so much.
“Let her go, Charlotte,” he urged his sister quietly. It was clear Eloise could not accept comfort right now, and she would only hurt herself and Charlotte in her distress.
Charlotte reluctantly released her grip and Eloise pushed herself away so violently she staggered. Off balance, she fell onto her back and began to pound the carpet with her heels and fists, screaming all the while at a heartbreaking, stomach-clenching pitch.
He’d seen Eloise like this before, a victim to the overwhelming fear and anxiety that dogged her world, but it never failed to make him feel powerless and pointless.
“Do you have anything you can give her? Something to help calm her down?” he asked.
“She won’t keep it down in this condition,” Charlotte said wearily.
He put his hand on her shoulder. Watching a loved one in pain was tough enough, but knowing you couldn’t even convey your sympathy, love and comfort to them made the burden doubly heavy.
He caught sight of movement out of the corners of his eyes and turned to see that Maddy was quietly clearing the table.
He hadn’t told her about Eloise. He’d known the children would be in bed by the time they arrived for dinner, and his sister could be intensely private and prickly about discussing her daughter’s condition. More than anything, she hated for Eloise to be an object of pity.
“Don’t bother with that,” Charlotte said.
Maddy hesitated, then put the plates down.
“Eloise is autistic,” he explained quietly.
Maddy nodded. “Is she…Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“No. She’ll have to wear herself out. Fortunately, her body can’t sustain such a high level of anxiety for long,” he said.
As he spoke, Eloise’s screaming dropped in pitch and became a low, despairing moan. She started to rock from side to side, her arms wrapped around her torso.
Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth and blinked furiously.
“I hate it when she’s like this. Out of everything it’s the thing I hate the most,” she said, her voice low and vehement.
Max pulled his house keys from his pocket and handed them to Maddy.
“Why don’t you go on home?” he suggested. “I’ll call you a taxi.”
“No! There must be something I can do to help,” she said.
“If there was, I would be doing it,” Charlotte snapped.
Max made eye contact with Maddy. She nodded her understanding of his silent message.
“Okay. I’ll go, if that’s what you think is best,” she said quietly. She took the keys from him, but hesitated, clearly uncertain about whether she should thank her hostess before leaving.
Charlotte didn’t lift her gaze from Eloise’s rocking form and Maddy turned away. He followed her to the door and helped her on with her coat.
“I’m sorry,” he said when she faced him. “Charlotte’s under a lot of pressure.”
Maddy held up a hand. “Don’t. I’m fine. I completely understand.”
In the other room, Eloise started screaming again.
“Go,” she said, urging him back. “I’ll see you at the apartment.”
She squeezed his arm, then she was heading down the stairs, her footsteps echoing hollowly in the stairwell.
Charlotte was holding Eloise in her lap when he returned to the living room.
“I suppose we shocked Little Miss Prima Donna. Not quite what she’s used to.”
“Charlotte.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what she was thinking. That I’m a terrible mother or I can’t cope or—” Charlotte’s voice broke and she tightened her grip on her daughter.
“Will she take some hot milk now?” he asked.
He wasn’t about to defend Maddy to his sister. They both knew that Charlotte wasn’t angry with Maddy. It was simply much harder to rail at life in quite the same way.
“Maybe. We can try.”
By the time he’d returned with warm milk, Eloise had quietened. Half an hour later, Charlotte carried her to her room to tuck her into bed. Eloise was limp with exhaustion by then, her eyes puffy from crying.
Max cleaned up the kitchen while Charlotte sat by Eloise’s bedside, waiting for her to fall asleep. He was wiping down the counters when Charlotte spoke from the doorway.
“Do you still love her?”
He stilled.
“You think I didn’t notice, all those years ago? The way you talked about her, then carefully tried to make it sound as though you weren’t, in case I noticed? You think I didn’t understand that you were trying to stop me from meeting her?” Charlotte said.
“Stop it, Charlotte. Maddy is not the one you’re mad at, and you know it,” he said.
His words came out more firmly than he’d intended and Charlotte shut her jaw with a click and stared at him as though he’d slapped her. He crossed the room to draw her into his arms. Even though she remained stiff and angry, he kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry for not telling you about my plans,” he said quietly, trying to find the right words. “It wasn’t because I don’t care about what you think. I guess I just wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing.”
Some of the fight went out of her.
“You know I love your bronzes. How could you think I would be anything but supportive?”
He shrugged. “It’s not exactly a reliable career