Charlotte's Search - The Complete Series

Her Master’s Wedding-1

Her Master’s Wedding Chapter One - James – The Dream

Pain….

Blinding, shrieking, unholy agony….

Screaming….

My Jade-Eyes screaming….

Blood….

Pain….

Screaming.

My Jade, weeping….

With a gasp, I rear up, blinking into darkness.

A nightmare….

Just a nightmare….

Beside me in the bed, my flame-haired mermaid, safe and sound, sleeps peacefully. Beyond her: Michael, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.

Everything is fine. Everything is perfectly normal.

But I’m drenched in sweat, my heart hammers behind my ribs and my breathing snatches. The wound in my thigh throbs a slow, heated beat.

And for the first time, the memory surfaces, how I took the wound.

Corby, his gun trained on Charlotte. Michael, flinging himself bodily at the gunman in a desperate bid to prevent the shot. And looking for refuge, finding none, I seize her, shielding her with my body….

Pain….

Shrieking unbearable agony….

….. And a fall into darkness….

Christ!

I check the time; it’s hours after midnight; getting late enough almost to be early.

I have no desire to sleep, to risk being dragged back into that nightmare.

Coffee….

Swinging out of bed, I snag a robe and pad downstairs to the kitchen. The renovations are all but complete now and the house is cosy and comfortable. A couple of weeks ago we moved out of the annex we first occupied, but I still haven’t grown used to the feeling of ‘home’ here.

Home….

I understand why Charlotte so yearned for a home of her own. Dispossessed for most of her life, with nothing to call her own, this has been Michael’s gift to her, the most precious thing he knew how to give to her. He has put heart and body and soul into it….

…. Not to mention a thumping great mortgage….

…. Which he can barely afford….

But for myself too, it has become home. Divorced so many years ago now, from a marriage which I never understood at the time was so unsuccessful. Only when I met my Jade-Eyes, did I truly understand what it meant to be bonded with another.

And I would do anything for her….

Anything….

In the kitchen, the homely activities of grinding beans, putting the coffeemaker on the hob, calm me….

…. calm me enough that I begin to think clearly about the memory that has just re-emerged. Everyone… Michael… Richard… Beth… has told me how I was injured, that I placed myself in the path of the bullet intended for Charlotte, but it felt like a story or a news report; something that happened to a stranger. A tale from the tv or social media perhaps.

This feels visceral…

Real….

And my stomach clenches at the memory of that searing moment before I lost consciousness.

I squeeze my eyes tight closed, trying to exorcise the thought.

Then the aroma of the coffee invades my nostrils and reality returns.

I take a couple of large gulps of the brew I deliberately made abrasively strong, then, mug in hand, I head outside, inhaling sweet steam as I walk.

The night is an iced hush; early Spring, with the air cold enough to steal my breath into curling clouds, and with the kiss of frost on the ground. But a golden wedge of moon casts over the lake far below, and the water is full of stars.

And slowly, my heart and breathing slow, and I grow still inside.

*****

Chapter Two - James - Planning

Richard joins me in the kitchen, peering over my work surface and hob, where onions and mince sizzle with the spices. “What are we having?”

“Chilli con Carne.”

“Sounds good. Want some help?”

“No, I’m fine. I enjoy cooking.”

“I’ll rephrase that. Do you mind if I join you? It’s getting a little heated in there.”

“Join me by all means.” I nod across to the bottle. “Help yourself to a drink. Problem?”

Richard examines the label, Hmmms, then pours himself a glass of wine. “Um, not a problem exactly. But I think when Michael accepted my investment in his spa hotel, he thought I’d be a sleeping partner.”

“And…?”

“If you recall, I had the investment made in Elizabeth’s name, and she definitely wants to have an input.”

I pause from chopping chillies as the humour creeps over me.

Of course, he’s used to running everything himself….

When I invested in Michael’s business, I was a silent partner….

But Beth wants to be involved….

I chuckle, rubbing at the side of my nose, then immediately regret it….

Ahhh… s**t!

Chillies….

Quickly I wash hands, then pour a little oil on a paper towel. Eyes watering, I dab at my face, trying to rub away the chilli oil as Richard watches in silent amusement.

Then, “Sure you don’t want any help?”

“Yes, sure. I’m all but done.”

Tipping beans and chillies into the pan with the meat and onions, I glug in tomato puree and the rest of the wine, then clap the lid on tight. “That’ll be ready in a couple of hours.”

I grin. “Let’s see how Michael’s bearing up under the strain, shall we?”

*****

Michael’s eyes are glazing. Doubt in his voice, sitting over a table-top of rosters and timetables, “We’ve never done anything like that before, Beth.”

“And that’s a reason for not doing it now?” The normally placid Beth sounds almost strident.

So, she’s a sub, is she?

Michael turns for support. “What do you think, Charlotte?”

The support isn’t forthcoming. “Sounds like a great idea to me.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkle. “The boxing I used to do gives you a really good workout. And at the end of it, you know a bit about how to look after yourself.”

“But… Self-defence?” Michael rakes through his hair. “It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing your friends would want to do, Beth.”

Beth shrugs, unimpressed. “You might be surprised. Most women would like to be able to at least have a shot at protecting themselves. But somehow, it’s not always seen as something they should work at.”

Outrage surges over Michael’s face. “That’s because it’s our job,” he protests. “That’s what men are here for. To protect the women they care about.”

“And if you’re not around?” Beth’s look is pointed. “At the risk of stating the obvious, it was a woman who got me out of trouble last time.” She rolls eyes to Charlotte.

Michael holds up outspread hands. “Okay, you win. Self-defence classes go on the roster. But I’ll have to find some extra staff first. I’ve no one trained in anything like that….”

Next to me, Richard stirs. “Why not use Charlotte?” His face is suspiciously straight. “You’d be willing to help, Charlotte, wouldn’t you?”

Michael gives him a hard stare, but our mermaid returns one of her jade-eyed smiles. “Of course I would. What are we talking about? A couple of hours a week to get it off the ground? And take it from there?”

“Sounds about right,” agrees Beth. “That’s settled then.” She turns back to Michael. “So, if we fit it in here in the morning….” With one long, immaculately painted nail, she taps at a spot on the timetables. “…That would leave the later parts of the day for the clientele to lunch first, then have sauna and spa, massage and all the rest of it. And we’d get them in for the whole day instead of just half a day. All else being equal, that should bring in twice the money.”

Michael chews a lip, nodding slowly. “You’ve thought this through, I can see.”

Richard claps a hand on his shoulder. “You might remember that Elizabeth’s original role in my company was as a trainee in Business Studies.”

Not just a pretty face….

Memo to self: never underestimate a woman just because she’s attractive.

*****

Chapter Three - James – The Best Man’s Speech

I slam my pen down on the desk.

Fuck!

I’m educated, intelligent and usually articulate. I have no difficulties expressing my thoughts.

So, how difficult can it be to write a five-minute Best Man’s Speech?

I rose early, wanting a little peace and quiet so I could get on with the most classic of a Best Man’s duties. I’d assumed it would be easy and I would run the job off in twenty or thirty minutes.

An hour later, the paper in front of me remains stubbornly blank.

And my eyes ache.

Surely I don’t need another eye test?

It goes with middle-age I suppose….

There’s no upside to getting older….

I need coffee….

Leaning back against the counter, sipping at my drink, my mind wanders, travelling back in time to my first marriage….

No….

My marriage….

For this wedding, it’s Michael who is marrying her.

But it doesn’t feel like that.

It feels like my wedding too.

And I’ll get it right this time….

This is my true marriage.

Even though it will be Michael who says the words….

Memories….

My wife, Marlene, with her screeching complaints. Never happy. Always complaining there wasn’t enough money, even though I was working as hard as I knew how.

I never asked her to work. I wanted her to be a mother to our daughter.

Where are you now, Georgie?

I slip the wallet from my back pocket where I keep her photo. I’d like to have it on my desk, but I’m never sure if it would upset Charlotte.

She looks out at me. Georgie. Seventeen years old. Beautiful. Becoming a woman. Holding up her exam certificate to show me. Beaming brightly because she’d made it to university.

I was so proud of you….

Am still proud of you…

More memories….

Only a few weeks later: Georgie has flown the nest to her university and the sick realisation settles on me that my marriage, such as it was, is over.

Marlene, screaming for money…. Screaming for possession of everything. As though she’d earned it all.

Marlene…. and the growing recognition that she had someone else….

Was she seeing him before the divorce?

Who cares…

Bitch.

Walking away from her: I gave her the house. The car. The f*****g lot. I simply wanted out. An end to it.

And the final blow: as it dawned on me that Georgie would no longer talk to me, was refusing to see me….

…. That my ex-wife had poisoned her against me. My little girl, the apple of my eye, would no longer acknowledge me as her father.

Your mother lied to you, Georgie.

I may not have been the perfect husband, but I never did the things Marlene said. And I didn’t leave her without money. It’s hardly my fault she had no control over her spending.

I’ve not seen Georgie for years. And the last time I heard from her was when her university fees needed paying….

Glumly, I stare into my mug, what-ifs and might-have-beens churning.

I hear movement from above, then chuckle as the depression settling on me disperses. There’s no problem with Charlotte’s spending. I’ve never known anyone so careful with money, even now when she has plenty of it.

Tighter than a duck’s arse….

Count your blessings….

And these days, I have so many of them: my closest friend and the woman I love soon to be wed, in the marriage I engineered to ensure the future of our Triad. My work is interesting, fulfilling and earns me more money than I ever dreamed of in those earlier years married to the Wicked Witch of the East. And I have powerful friends….

Richard….

…

How to make the best of that friendship?.

Something hovers at the back of my mind, but the thoughts don’t coalesce.

Don’t think about it….

It’ll come when the time’s right….

I knock back the last of the coffee.

Time to get on with that speech.

Tucking the photo safely back in my wallet, in much more cheerful mood, I return to my desk.

Since my mind is a blank, I search the internet for inspiration, trying to find the right words.

Quotes about marriage….

“…. A happy marriage is the work of two people….”

Not exactly appropriate….

“…. A perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other….”

Nope… Not that either….

And I chuckle at Wodehouse. “And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.”

But hardly appropriate either.

Michael is nobody’s fool….

And then I find it.

“The real act of marriage takes place in the heart….” I keep reading. After a minute or so, I open the top drawer of my desk, taking out the small box I’m keeping in there….

…. Just for the moment….

Opening it, I look at the ring, turning it in my fingers, thinking of what it represents….