Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

37. Concern

Kathryn and Minerva came through the kitchen into the hall, each carried a small, pink shopping bag. Their laughter went ahead of them.

“Isn't that illegal in some states?” Kathryn asked, taking the scarf off of her head.

“Well if it isn't, it certainly ought to be.” Minerva replied, shaking the snow off of her coat. It was nearly eight and she could hear Bridey mumbling in the dining room.

“What's that?” Lucien asked as he came into the hall. He took Minerva's hands, touched his cheek to hers and then took her coat.

“Bridey!” Minerva called. “Honestly, that woman would rather complain than anything else in the world.” She said to Kathryn.

He helped Kathryn out of her jacket and kissed her softly. Then he tilted her chin up and looked closely at her, turning her head slightly to the left and then to the right. Kathryn was starting to feel more than a little nervous under his appraising eye.

“The style suits you, but you changed the color.” He said finally.

“Just a few subtle highlights.” Kathryn said. She had kept her promise about the general length, but he hadn't mentioned the color. Bridey finally appeared and he shoved the two coats at her. “I thought it looked a little blah. Do you think it's too much?”

“It's different, let me get used to it.” He kissed her lightly again and Kathryn smiled up at him.

“Well, if everybody is finished looking at everybody else, dinner is going to waste.” Bridey shut the closet door firmly and stalked into the dining room in a huff.

“I guess that's told us.” Minerva looked embarrassed as she followed.

“Does that woman have any sense of her place?” He asked Kathryn softly. She could tell by the cold way he looked at Bridey that he knew exactly what he thought her place should be. Kathryn struggled to find the right words.

“Grandmother leaned on Bridey more than anyone else after Mother died. It's not like she just comes to work here and collects a paycheck, she's a companion for Grandmother too.” Kathryn knew that it sounded like a lame excuse, but she didn't know how to express to him that the formality he expected from his servants just wasn't present here. “Please don't think too harshly of her.”

He led her into the dining room with his hand in the small of her back. The table would easily seat ten as it was, more when it was expanded. Three settings were laid, one at the head of the table, and one on either side of it. Kathryn was glad that they weren't going to have to shout at each other.

“Kathryn, sit across from me.” Minerva said, leaving the head of the table for him. When Bridey came in with the plates she seemed surprised to see him sitting there but she kept silent about it.

“Now, don't cut into these until I leave the room.” Bridey set plates prepared with rare lamb chops, red potatoes and baby peas in front of each of them. “I can almost still hear those lambs crying for their mothers as it is.” She filled the glasses and left into the kitchen. Kathryn caught his narrowed eyes as he watched Bridey retreat, but didn't say anything. He put his napkin on his lap and the ladies followed suit.

“So, what was it that should be illegal?” He asked after a moment. Kathryn and Minerva looked at each other and laughed again.

“Apparently the latest trendy ingredient in upmarket moisturizer is sheep foreskins.” Kathryn said. His eyebrows rose slightly.

“You didn't-” He began.

“Oh god no.” She and Minerva both laughed again. “I think the saleswoman was a little offended that we found it so funny and then said no, but you know how I insist on being conventional.”

“Sometimes I'm quite glad that you do.” Kathryn smiled at him and savored the slightly cool meat.

“Kathryn, do you remember that spa we went to in California right after 'Unrepentant' came out?” Minerva asked.

“How could I forget? That hot stone massage was one of the most relaxing things I've ever experienced. Do they do that here? I never looked at the list of services.” Kathryn used to think it was the most relaxing thing, then she met Lucien and bathed with him for the first time. The look on Minerva's face told her that she had noticed the change in ranking, but she didn't comment.

“They do, but I've never thought any of their massage services was particularly outstanding.” Minerva said. “We should try somewhere else before you go home.”

“We say that every year and there's always some reason that we don't go.” Kathryn laughed softly.

“Speaking of things we do every year, what are you wearing for Christmas dinner?” Minerva asked. Kathryn finished one of the chops and pushed the other aside.

“I brought a green jumper, kind of like the one I wore to Thanksgiving.” She responded.

“You're not going to wear one of those dreary things are you?” Minerva looked slightly horrified and disappointed at the same time.

“I'm sorry Grandmother, I would have brought this great dress I made out of a flour sack and a piece of twine but I realized at the last minute that it was at the cleaners.” Kathryn sipped her wine as if she had just commented on the weather.

“Now you know that isn't what I meant.” Minerva said. “You're beautiful no matter what you wear but there's no reason you should dress to blend into the wallpaper.”

Kathryn could feel him watching her, taking in the conversation.

“Are Uncle Harold and Jayne bringing the twins?” Kathryn asked.

“Yes, but-”

“Then there's a perfectly good reason. The girls will start running around after dinner and Jayne will claim she simply can't handle it and she'll tell me to watch them. I'm not going to sit on the floor and play games with a couple of five year olds in something that's not suited to the task.” Kathryn said.

“What you must think of my manners.” Minerva said to Lucien, seeming to remember he was there for the first time. “Harold is my son. Jayne is his second wife and the twins are his 'second family' so to speak. Jayne likes the idea of having children as long as there is someone else there to take care of them.”

“I see. And that responsibility usually falls to Kathryn?” He said.

“Yes. Though you don't have to dress like a nun.” Minerva continued. “Let's go to Raymond's tomorrow. I'm sure we can find you something that that suits you better.”

“Alright Grandmother.” Kathryn sighed a little. “Who else is coming? Just the usual people?”

“Pretty much.” Minerva turned to Lucien again. “You'll probably be terribly bored. My sons tend to be rather dull, their wives tend to be rather vain. Several of Kathryn's cousins will be there as well and usually they bring dates. Sometimes that proves to be entertaining. Kathryn's father and Mira are in the Caribbean or Cancun or somewhere, so you'll be spared that singular pleasure for now.”

“Cozumel.” Kathryn offered.

“Yes, that's it. Mira's sons spend the holiday with their father and she insists on going to the beach. She doesn't seem to think of the fact that Kathryn might want to see her father at Christmas.”

“Now you know that isn't fair.” Kathryn said. “They invite me every year, and every year I say no.”

“You say no because after ten minutes on the beach and you're as red as a boiled lobster.” Minerva responded. “It's like inviting a mermaid to go mountain climbing.”

“I'm sure there's a mixed metaphor in there somewhere.” Kathryn repressed a small laugh. She had come to terms with the trip, her grandmother still hadn't.

“Mixed or not, I'm right.” Minerva's eyes turned to Kathryn's plate. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Fine, why?”

“Because you haven't eaten hardly anything.” Minerva said.

“I ate as much as I always do. Why all this sudden concern about my diet?” Kathryn sipped her wine, feeling a bit confused.

“I'm always concerned about you, you know that.” Minerva brushed to comment aside but Kathryn could tell there was more to it. “At least finish some more of the lamb. Bridey made it especially for you, besides it's so good for your blood.”

Kathryn caught the strange look Lucien gave her.

“What's wrong with my blood?” Kathryn would have laughed if it wasn't for that surprised glance and the way affected Minerva.

“Well, nothing,” the older woman looked flustered, something Kathryn rarely saw. “But I saw something on television the other day about how young women your age are prone to anemia. I'm just concerned for you.”

“Grandmother, you know as well as I do that I've never been anemic, but if it makes you feel any better I started taking vitamins a few months back. I really think I'm alright.” Kathryn wondered where all of this was really coming from. Her grandmother had never paid much attention to information about nutrition. She thought most of it was nonsense.

“I didn't know that, but it does make me feel better.” She smiled but Kathryn noticed that she was still fussing with the edges of her napkin. “Why don't we have our coffee in the sitting room? Go on in, I'll tell Bridey and join you.”

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LaCroix watched the two women converse and crochet baby hats for some charity or other from behind a newspaper. Even if he hadn't been focused on them, the light was entirely too bright for him to read comfortably. In times where rooms were lit by candles and oil lamps his heightened senses were a asset. This brightly lit age had its advantages but he found it distinctly uncomfortable at times.

Minerva's comment at dinner had surprised him, and it had clearly surprised Minerva as well. It was possible that she was only concerned about Kathryn's health, he was too. The vitamins had been his suggestion. It still amazed him what information could be found on the Internet, he didn't want her feeling depleted and questioning why. From Kathryn's reaction though he set grandmotherly concern aside as unlikely. That left the obvious. Uneasy as it made him, finding out more would have to wait until the right moment. No matter what she suspected she clearly liked the fact that he was close to Kathryn.

The women chatted amiably until a little after two. When Minerva said her goodnights and went to bed he thought Kathryn looked relieved. He could tell that she related to Minerva in a way that she related to few other people, but she also wasn't accustomed to spending so much time in 'light conversation'. They passed many hours together in silence. Frequently, their conversations tended to be debates about everything from current events to why she thought one historian was more biased than another. He had found debate to be a lost art, but she made a more than adequate adversary. The first thing she did when Minerva was out of the room was turn off several lamps, then she curled up next to him without a word.

“Tired, my Kathryn?” He pulled her close and silently thanked her for dimming the lights.

“A little. This feels so good though.” She sighed and relaxed against him.

“Would you like to hear a bit more of the Aeneid?” He smiled slightly at her surprise.

“I don't think Grandmother has a copy.” She said, looking dejected.

“I didn't ask that.” He laughed softly. He hadn't read to her since the evening Minerva extended her invitation. He knew she enjoyed it, and he had to admit he did too. He enjoyed the closeness with her, and he found he liked explaining things to her when she didn't understand the text.

“Yes, I would like to hear some more.” She blushed softly.

“Wait here.” He went quickly to the guest room and retrieved the book. When he returned she was wrapped in the crocheted throw from the back of the sofa. She curled up against him again.

“That's not the same one you had at the house.” She relaxed against him, but looked curiously at the book.

“No, I had another, more recent copy at the apartment.” Kathryn relaxed against him and closed her eyes.

“I thought I had ruined this.” She said softly.

“Why?” He looked down at her curiously.

“Because the last time you read to me was the night-” She stopped searching for the right words. “The night you talked to Grandmother for the first time.”

“An oversight on my part.” He kissed her forehead softly. He knew anyone who had ever run afoul of his temper would say that the way he dealt with her that night was exceptionally mild. Perhaps it was, but he didn't want her to fear him. Fear worked very well with those one wanted to hold at arm's length, but it was an exceptionally poor way to hold someone in one's heart. He credited Nicholas for teaching him that, he had simply grasped the lesson too late. Whatever the tactic, the message had been conveyed. He hadn't known how well until that moment. “Do you remember where I left off?”

She told him and then closed her eyes again, a contented little smile on her lips.