Return From Darkness

By Steph

Inez walked alongside him, Sara behind, and two of her nephews in front. Each time Luis took a step down the stone stairs, the entire group moved with him, though no one touched him, allowing him to rely on the cane.

He rested then took another step, refusing to let them see how his legs quivered with exhaustion. He had only left the first landing.

"I think that is enough, Don Luis," said Inez.

"Mario, get the chair," said Sara and one of the nephews rushed past them.

"Don't patronize me," huffed Luis.

Inez sighed. "Don Luis, there are a lot of stairs."

"I'll do it," he insisted, glancing at her, but only for a moment before focusing on the next stair. She was smiling, reveling in his weakness, no doubt. She seemed to enjoy her power over him. Well, enough was enough.

Three steps later, his legs began to quake. He leaned against the stone railing and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, ignoring the worried looks of those surrounding him. Still, they did not touch him. Inez had lost her smile and now held her lips in a tight line. He couldn't tell if she was worried or trying not to harangue him. Below, the chair waited for him, nine steps away, and he would gladly take it, but not until he reached it on his own.

"Could I have a glass of water?" he asked with as much aplomb as he could muster.

Sara called and, in moments, a boy appeared with the water.

"Drink it slowly," Inez cautioned.

He had the urge to drain the glass in one gulp, but fought it. She was a nurse after all. She did seem to know a few things about health. Instead, he sipped it and handed it back to Inez, then stood straight and concentrated on the next step.

"I think, Inez," he said through labored breath as he leaned heavily on the cane, "that you will need to give me another bath before long." Another step and a glance her way. This time, she kept her gaze on his legs. Did he detect a slight blush? "Of course," he panted, "I have noticed lately," another step, "that this is a chore," one more and he'd rest, "that you seem to enjoy." He leaned against the railing, smiled and huffed and saw that Inez's face had turned scarlet. "Water, please."

She handed him the water, her eyes cast down, apparently unable to speak. Luis sipped the water, handed it back and started to laugh. Then he caught Sara's harsh glare and checked himself. He felt a twinge of guilt and shoved it aside. Why should he feel guilt? Did she think him a gentleman? He continued his descent.

So what, he thought, angry now. So what if I was once a gentleman? I have been the lowest of creatures. Who would dare call me a gentleman now? Julia wouldn't care. She would laugh and answer with some equally uncivil witticism. We would laugh. And kiss.

"Don Luis," came Inez's warning.

He stopped, shaking all over, only two steps away from the chair. His heart pounded, his breath came out in gasps. He leaned and took the water. Droplets of perspiration ran down his face and neck.

He wasn't going to make it, he thought. He felt as if he couldn't move, as if he might slip any moment, down the stone rail and onto the stair. He was going to fail. He could see that now. It was foolish to attempt so much at once. No surprise, because he was a fool, after all.

"Only two more steps," Inez said. "I think you will make it."

He rested a few more moments then stood straight, still breathing hard. His legs could hardly hold him. He locked his knees and took a breath, lowered a foot, concentrated on control, leaned heavily on the cane.

"Last one," said Inez.

The last one was the easiest, for he seemed to slide right into the chair, as if it was natural, as if his body wasn't screaming at him to stop the abuse.

Inez placed a towel around his neck and handed him what was left of the water. "My mother once told me that a man's pride was a powerful thing. You have just proven her point, Don Luis."

He looked up, still breathing heavily. She looked at him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It startled him. Her smile always reached her eyes.

"Shall we go into the garden for tea?" she said.

He grasped her hand as she moved to grip the chair's handles in back. Without looking at her, he said, "Please, forgive my foolishness. I had no right to mock you so."

"No, Don Luis, you had no right, and a lady does not easily forgive such vulgarity, at least not that shown in public." She pulled her hand gently from his and began to push the chair slowly through the inner courtyard, toward the path that led to the garden. "But I will forgive you, this time, if you will try to remember how it is to behave like a gentleman."

"I'll make the effort," he said, and then wondered what she meant by "at least not that shown in public". To ask would only worsen the situation. Not that he needed her anymore. He was more than capable of dressing and bathing himself now. He ate at a table in his room, or on the veranda. He had even begun reviewing the accounts with Alan each week.

So why did they all still think he needed supervision?

Sara brought out tea and cakes, then rushed off when she heard some argument from the outer patio. Inez stood by the chair.

"Sit down and drink with me," Luis said. "I have some questions."

Inez sat and poured herself a cup.

"Does the doctor still think I will hurt myself?"

"He has said nothing either way, Don Luis," said Inez.

"Have you read the newspaper stories?" he asked. He watched her carefully and saw that she understood his question, and that the question made her uncomfortable.

"Yes," she said, looking at her tea.

"I would like to see them," he said. Inez glanced at him then dropped her gaze again.

"I suggest you tell Doctor Xavier your wishes."

"I am telling you," he said and she shifted uncomfortably. He waited a few moments and asked, "Do you think I will try to hurt myself?"

Now she looked up and smiled. This time the smile reached her eyes and he felt relief at the sight. "No, Don Luis. I think you have passed that stage. Not because you are doing all the right things, but because you have a great deal of pride still left in you, as we just witnessed. And I do not think you are a coward."

What could he say to that? It sounded like female foolishness to him. He cocked his head and gave her a small smile. "What do you know about me? About my life before," he hesitated, before what? Before he became a cheat, a thief and an accomplice to murder? "Before I married," he said.

She suddenly became shy, her cheeks flushing like a dilettante.

"Well?" he asked.

"I met you, actually. My husband and I met you in New Orleans."

Her husband?

"You came to our home for dinner. The two of you talked of nothing but coffee and tobacco. My husband was an agent for Louisiana Coffee Imports, one of the firms you dealt with."

And then he remembered her, a slight thing, tiny waist, perfectly noble in her bearing. She wore her hair in a soft bun atop her head, with soft curls that framed her gentle face. How could he not remember her, except that he only saw her once, and she was right, he spent most of the time talking to her husband. Still, he had noticed her, had thought how lovely she was and how proper. Their home was simple yet clean and tastefully furnished. The husband seemed content and, more than once, Luis noticed how the man watched his wife with proud yet wanting eyes. It was then that he decided he must have a proper wife of his own.

A proper wife.

"Don Luis?"

Luis shook himself out of the daze and nodded. "You are Inez Wetherby. What happened to your husband, Tom?" How could he not have noticed, except that, until now, that face had been little more than a blur.

"He died of scarlet fever that same year," she said, "three years gone now." Her eyes glazed over and seemed to see through Luis. "I was very much in love with him. He was a gentleman and quite attentive. But he had only begun his career, so, when he died, I returned to nursing, which I had begun before I met Tom."

"Did you ever lie to your husband?" He cursed the question as soon as it escaped him, shook his head and began to apologize.

But before he spoke, Inez said, "yes." She smiled. "I always told him that I was fine. That I had no worries, even when he was sick."

Oh God, thought Luis. Could she say anything else to make him feel worse?

She smiled again. "But then again, no, I did not lie to my husband when it mattered. I told you, I loved him."

Luis frowned. That made him feel worse. "Julia lied to me."

Inez nodded. "I know."

"But she loved me," he said. She did. He knew she did.

Inez said nothing.

The silence grew awkward. Luis looked at his tea and reached for a cake. He had begun to gain weight, but his muscles were like an old man's. This sitting about all the time drove him to tears. Yet after the stairs, his physical exhaustion reminded him how far he had to go.

For what? To hide in his home and torture himself with memories? He was a coward. Sometimes he still longed for the peace that death offered, yet…

Alan had done so much for him, sacrificed so much for him. Could he disappoint his friend and partner any further? And when had he accepted this sentence, confined to this house, locked in with her ghost?

"Did she suffer?" he asked.

Inez looked up, her eyes questioning.

"Julia, did she suffer?"

The nurse's eyes narrowed in anger. Her mouth opened then snapped shut. She took another sip of tea, as if she suddenly needed to slake her thirst.

"Answer me," Luis said, his own anger rising. "Stop trying to protect me, dammit. I need to know if she died quickly or if they tortured her. I need to know this."

Inez's mouth dropped open. She visibly calmed herself and placed the cup back on its saucer.

Luis felt his stomach clench as he watched Inez straighten. He tried preparing himself for the worst and thought maybe he should just let it go. He didn't want to know. He couldn't bear it if Julia had suffered.

"Don Luis," Inez said, her voice calm, that voice she used whenever he was upset. "I must tell you that I can give you no information on that woman. No, that is not right. I "will" give you no information on that woman. Such information that you will twist into some fictional proof of her love for you." She stood. "I will not be a party to furthering your degradation."

Luis gaped at her, shocked by her words. "Julia loved me," he said. The noise that he thought had finally left him began to rise again in his ears, the noise of poison rushing through his veins. The noise of her telling him, "I love you."

Inez gripped the back of her chair and leaned forward, her eyes flashing in fury. "Her name was not Julia! Her name was Agnes Dovecote. William Dovecote was her first cousin and their parents were miners. They are believed to have committed their first act of murder before Agnes was fifteen."

Luis was shaking now, his heart pounding, the noise growing louder. How dare she shout these lies at him! How dare she! His stomach clenched and bile began to rise into his throat. He gripped his teacup then threw it at Inez, missing her. "Get out! Get away from me! I don't want you in my house! I don't want to ever see you again! Get out!"

Inez straightened, her face red. She nodded and turned away. He didn't see her go. The tears blurred his vision until he closed his eyes.