Progress
Sitting next to Meg alone in the overly opulent dining room, Charlie couldn’t help but smile. Even though the voices still clung to him, he had a feeling Dr. Morgan could actually help. For the first time since he’d arrived back in New York City, he felt hopeful that he could return to his former self.
“You look awfully chipper this evening,” Meg said, as she took a sip of her soup. “I suppose that means Dr. Morgan was helpful?”
“It does,” Charlie admitted, noting how lovely she looked in the light blue gown she wore. It made her eyes sparkle. “He really does know precisely what to ask and how to ask it.”
“Are you studying him as much as he’s studying you?” she asked, amusement pulling at the corners of her exquisite lips.
He looked at her for a moment, his head tipped to the side a bit, seeing if she would break into a giggle. She did. “And what if I am?”
“No, that’s fine,” she replied. “So long as you feel he’s helping you.”
“I feel he’s helping me or he is actually helping me?”
“Either.” She shrugged and carefully raised a spoonful of broth to her mouth. “Wouldn’t he argue that perception is reality?”
“I believe you’re mistaking him for a philosopher,” Charlie noted.
“Two very similar fields.”
“I suppose so, but I’m not sure Dr. Morgan would agree that thinking one is being helped is the same as actually being helped. And I’m sure he would say he is actually capable of helping me.”
Meg nodded, though Charlie didn’t know if that meant she was truly convinced. “I hope so. I’d love to see you jovial all the time, the way that you used to be.”
“That was you, Meg. Believe me, I didn’t walk around the streets of New York City with a sappy grin on my face all of the time before we met.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean I don’t make you happy anymore?”
“Of course not,” he said with a sly smile. “It only means that I’ve lost a bit of myself. Now that I’m seeing Dr. Morgan, I think he shall help me find it.”
She wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I hope so.”
“You know, I’m sure he could help you, too. If you’d let him.”
Setting the napkin back on her lap, she asked, “What is it, exactly, that you feel I need help with?”
“You’ve been through quite a bit, Meg. Perhaps it isn’t healthy to push everything down inside.” He knew he was walking a thin line between offering a suggestion and upsetting her, so he attempted to be nonchalant.
“I’m fine, Charlie. In fact, knowing that my uncle is gone for good has renewed my energy. I feel much more content than I have in years.”
He nodded, not sure he believed her but certain she believed herself. “That’s wonderful to hear.”
“With the wedding approaching, and the knowledge that we will soon be man and wife, I haven’t the time to be upset about anything. I’m just fine, Charlie. I assure you.”
“I’m glad, Meg,” he said, deciding to let it go. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps she had found a way to deal with all of the horrific experiences of her short life. “Tell me how it went today. Did you decide on a pattern for your dress?”
“I did,” she said, her face lighting up. “More importantly, Grace and I have reached an understanding.”
“Really?” Charlie asked, perking up a bit. “That’s great.”
“Yes, she cares so much for you. It’s no surprise she wanted to protect you.”
“And control everything,” Charlie muttered, returning his attention to the bowl in front of him.
“That may be true,” Meg shrugged, “but I don’t mind. I’ve never been one for throwing parties or events. I’m certain the wedding ceremony will be lovely.”
“And you’re sure you don’t mind postponing the honeymoon?” She’d already agreed the first time he’d mentioned it, on their way back from Southampton, but he felt guilty asking her to put it off.
“Not at all,” she replied. “In fact, I’m relieved that I’ll have the chance to move in here and get settled into the role of being your wife straight away.”
Charlie smiled and let go of a deep breath. “Good. I feel I must return to work and get things straightened out with the textile factory as well.”
“It will be nice to see Westmoreland Textiles up and running properly again,” Meg noted.
“And once we are ready, I shall take you wherever you’d like to go. France, Egypt, China—anywhere.”
A grin broke out on Meg’s face. “I think I should like to see America,” she replied.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “America? Why is that?”
“Why not? I’ve always dreamt of visiting, and now here I am. When you first awoke, you asked if we could take a slow train. Let’s do that instead. Let’s go to St. Louis, and then on to the Grand Canyon. We’ll go to California and see the Pacific Ocean. We’ll stick our toes in the water but won’t get in. What do you think?”
“I think…that sounds lovely,” Charlie replied, smiling widely at her. “As long as you are there, I’m sure it will be wonderful.”
“You know I’ll be there, Charlie. You can’t get away from me. Surely you must know that by now.”
“Luckily, I don’t want to,” Charlie said with a wink, and he wished the next two weeks would fly by so he could finally make Meg his wife at long last.
Meg stood in a room crowded with over four hundred people, approximately a dozen of whom she knew, and that was being generous with the definition of the word “knew.” Wearing her long white gown, which poofed out around her in just the fashion that would’ve made her absent mother beside herself, she shook hands with faceless, nameless well-wishers and smiled until her cheeks began to ache.
Charlie seemed every bit the carefree soul he’d been the night they’d fallen in love at the Third Class dance. That was the Charlie she pictured most times when she thought of the man she loved. He’d been there, too, at dinner that night in the First Class dining hall—at least until she’d shouted at Mrs. Appleton and run out, leading Madeline Astor to reveal Meg’s true identity.
But that Charlie was here now, or at least he appeared to be, though she thought his expression showed from time to time that he was still battling the voices. Perhaps Dr. Morgan’s tactics were helping him win the fight.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
