Chapter 14

Demons of the Past

“Don’t hold the reins too tight.”

“I’m not holding the reins too tight.”

“And keep your heel down.”

“I’m keeping my heel down. If I hold it down one more inch it will scrape on the ground! Is that what you want, Adam?”

“What I want is for you and your horse to get through these rocks unscathed, Mylady. And to accomplish that you have to keep a perfect seat and relinquish some control to your horse.”

Adam heard her hissing something under her breath, and he could easily picture her face. It had to be quite frustrating for her not to be able to look back and glare at him, he thought, suppressing a grin even though she couldn’t see it. The way through the boulders was narrow and uneven, and it took true horsemanship to ride it. Under other circumstances he’d have suggested dismounting, but Juliet’s riding skills had improved a lot, and he knew she would be very proud to have made it.

He couldn’t believe they finally were on their way to have their long-postponed picnic at the Study, his favourite viewpoint on the Ponderosa. From the Study they would have a brilliant view of the lake, and the way the small meadow was positioned in the rocks they’d be protected from too much sun as well as from the chilly winds of the high country.

Apparently Juliet had been looking forward to their day out as well. She had awaited him on Mrs. Hawkins’ front porch with a wide smile, sparkling eyes and the words, “I’m so glad you didn’t get bogged down in any mud holes this time, Adam!”

And then she had picked up a waiting basket and asked if Adam could help her tie it to her horse’s saddle.

“Um…hadn’t we agreed that Hop Sing would provide the lunch today?” Adam had gestured to his own basket fastened on Sport’s saddle.

“This isn’t lunch, Adam. This is…a surprise.” The way Juliet had pronounced “surprise” it sounded as if it was made of pure gold, and Adam had been tempted to lift the cloth covering the contents of the basket, but Juliet had given him a not too gentle slap on his fingers and had tsked in a way that needed no further words. And so Adam had fastened the basket to Niobe’s saddle and had cupped his hands to help Juliet onto the horse.

When the lady had picked up the reins, on her left thumb Adam had seen a bandage that bore a strong resemblance to his own still fixed-on thumb-dressing.

“What happened to your thumb, Mylady?”

“My…oh, I cut it pruning the roses.”

Adam had stared at her, trying to read her face. Surely she had to be joking. But no, she hadn’t looked sarcastic but a bit sheepish, actually. Still Adam had had to be sure he had heard right. “You prune roses? You’re doing gardening?”

“Of course I do. I’m English!”

Adam had only barely refrained from gaping. “Of course you do. You’re English,” he had teased, but Juliet had looked at him as if he’d said something exceptionally stupid. Apparently to her his question had been as ridiculous as asking if a bird could fly.

Only when they had been halfway through the Ponderosa it had occurred to Adam that not all birds could fly, that Juliet was anything but a bird anyway, and that once again she had left him with more questions than answers.

Finally they arrived at the Study, Adam relieved that Juliet had proven him right in the decision to let her ride up here, Juliet a bit breathless but euphoric, and both of them hungry. While they set out their picnic, Adam marveled about how smoothly they worked together, as if they’d been a team since the world was young. From the little campfire where he was making coffee he looked over his shoulder, watching her arranging the food from Hop Sing’s basket on plates atop the blanket now spread over the soft grass. She hummed off-key while laying out napkins and sandwiches, a bowl of strawberries and a box of cookies, and Adam bit his lip so as not to laugh out loud when he finally realised that she was humming “Sweet Betsy from Pike,” of all songs. He wondered if she even knew the words of the song, and if she would knew how close they hit home with his experiences on the trek west.

“Is the coffee ready now, Adam?” she startled him out of his musing. He nodded, poured two cups and sat down on the blanket, handing her one and accepting a sandwich from her.

They sat there, silent for a long while, eating, drinking, and enjoying the view of the lake glistening in the midday sun. From time to time Juliet’s hand brushed his when they both reached for the strawberries, and each time he looked up and found her blushing.

“I have to admit I have a little weakness for strawberries,” she offered. Her gaze went over the landscape; she sighed and then laughed silently, and shook her head. “Oh, and I have a weakness for picnics: acres and acres of grass and sand—and all on our food.”

“Don’t forget the bugs, Juliet,” Adam chuckled. And as on cue a ladybug came down on his bandaged thumb. Juliet nearly spilled her coffee, laughing.

“These ladybirds are following you, Adam. What have you done? Cast a spell on them?”

“Of course not.” He made a show of becoming serious, leaned over to her and looked inquiringly into her sparkling eyes. “Don’t you know that witchcraft is prohibited by law?”

“Is it?” Juliet raised an eyebrow. “Well, maybe in this country. I wouldn’t be surprised. You do have strange articles in your constitution.”

“Oh, come on, Juliet. Let’s not discuss the Constitution.” Adam looked at her, alarmed. “Not now, not here, while everything is so peaceful.”

She smiled and nodded. “I won’t say a word. At least you have a constitution, whereas my country still depends on charters.”

“It seems to work pretty well, Juliet. Although I wouldn’t want to be a lawyer in England.” Adam chuckled. “Just imagine filling your speeches with quotations from 1215.”

“Well, there are even earlier charters that still are valid,” Juliet seemed to warm up to the subject. “But of course, most people think of the Magna Carta first.”

“The Magna Carta is one of the most important charters, as far as I understood,” Adam said. “And it is one of the keystones of our Constitution, so we’re not too far from each other.”

“Do you know what amazes me the most, Adam?” Juliet settled a bit more comfortably, now directly facing Adam. “That a man who was known by the name John Lackland signed a charter all those centuries ago that still is an integral part of British and American law.”

“He didn’t do it freely, as I recall, he was under duress, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, the barons made him do it. He broke his word at the first opportunity which led to a civil war and another attempted French invasion…. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was called Lackland. He was the youngest of five sons, and never supposed to reign over anything….and then when he acted as regent for Richard he wasn’t very successful, either. Did you know the great Richard, Cœur de Lion, spent less than ten months in England? And while Richard was fighting the pagans in Jerusalem, John lost significant territory to France, which led to even more war and…well, anyway; Lackland, what a name for a king.”

Adam watched her telling her tale with rosy cheeks and dancing eyes, her hands gesturing and emphasising her words.

“I didn’t know you were that interested in the history of law, Juliet.”

“It’s merely how people come to establish laws that fascinates me. I heard a very intriguing lecture at Cambridge about that, and it has occupied my mind ever since.”

“You attended college? You never told me that.” Adam held his breath. Would she….

“No, of course I didn’t. Henry did.”

“Henry?”

“My brother; I told you I had a brother. He studied philosophy and law at Cambridge, and sometimes he smuggled me into his lectures. It was all exciting, and so interesting. What these people knew, what one could learn…it was the one time in my life where it came in very handy that I was so tall and plain. No one suspected I was a girl when I wore some of Henry’s clothes.”

“It’s hard to imagine that now, Juliet.” Adam gave her a long glance, and surprisingly she blushed again. He decided to change the topic. “May I ask…what did your brother do after college? Is he a lawyer now?”

Juliet hesitated only for a second. Then her jaw set in that decisive way Adam knew so well. “He’s dead. He died in a duel at the age of twenty-one.” It sounded formal, like a quote from a book.

The Study had never been so silent. Even the sound of the chirping insects seemed to have died. Juliet looked at the far away lake and then back at Adam. “Do you want to know what it was about? That duel?”

“What was it about?” Adam asked without thinking. Now the dam had broken she obviously was determined to tell.

She snorted. “About a woman, of course.”

“He loved her?” Adam wasn’t sure if this was a question or rather a statement, but it didn’t seem to matter anyway.

“He didn’t even know her. Jason loved her, Henry’s friend. Henry was his second when Jason decided he had to fight for the girl’s honour; and when Jason couldn’t even stand upright the morning of the duel because he was too drunk, Henry stepped in.” Juliet choked. She pressed both hands at her mouth, closed her eyes, and gulped hard. When she looked at Adam again, her eyes were watery.

“It was Sunday. I went to Cambridge quite early because Henry wanted to take me out punting on the Cam. We’d done it before; it had always been a great adventure. On Sundays every student seems to be on the river, there’s always a lot of laughter, you meet people, share your picnics, your songs, your stories. But…but when I arrived at Henry’s he wasn’t there. I waited for…I don’t remember. Eventually he was brought home.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe what had happened. “Do you have an idea how much blood you lose from a sword wound?”

Adam opened his mouth to answer, but it didn’t look as if she expected him to, and so he stayed silent.

“He still lived.” Again Juliet spoke with that awkward stiffness, but after a short hesitation she became more agitated, nearly frantic, and her hands fluttered in front of her chest in an unconscious illustration of the despair she had felt. “I sent for a doctor, tried to stop his bleeding. But he was fading too quickly. He died under my hands, Adam, he died and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“Juliet….” He reached out for her, but she backed away.

“He knew he was dying, he knew it. Do you know what the last thing he said to me was?” Her voice was barely audible. “He said, ‘I’m scared’ and I said, ‘Don’t be. Mother will be waiting for you.’”

Adam felt something ripping at his heart. This was too close, this was too…he couldn’t look at her anymore.

“I lied.”

It sounded like a cry for help. Adam’s head jerked up, and he saw her eyes, the green sea finally spilling over.

“He died, and I lied to him.”

“Juliet, you didn’t—”

“How do you know? How do you know, Adam?” She shook her head, vigorously. “No one knows. Reverend Oldman thinks he knows, but he doesn’t. No one knows. To believe is not to know, and I don’t know if I even believe…I said it to comfort him, but I didn’t believe it. Or maybe I did, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t know. You’re right, no one knows. But a lot of people believe it, and I…I don’t know either, but I like to believe it.”

“I lied to my dying brother, Adam.”

He considered her. Long, intently. What was she seeking? Absolution? Surely not. Solace? No, that would be too cheap. He knew what she was looking for. Understanding.

“Well, you did. You lied to comfort him, you say. So I assume he believed it, and you knew that.”

A nod.

“Juliet, did he die peacefully after that?”

Another nod. He reached out and lifted her chin. His eyes found hers, and as so many times before he felt he was looking right into her soul and she into his.

“Who was more important at that moment, Juliet: Henry or you?”

“Henry.” It was barely above a breath.

“Then you will have to live with your lie, don’t you think? It was a necessity.”

“But—”

“But no. Sometimes a lie is all we can offer. Sometimes a lie is what is required. Sometimes a lie is good. Sometimes doing something you don’t want to do because all your life you knew it was wrong is what is required. And that’s…not all right, but there’s nothing to be done for it.”

He believed it himself. For the first time since…back then he believed it. And for the first time he felt the urge to tell.

“I said something very similar to Ross when he died.”

“Ross? Who…?” Juliet wiped one hand over her cheeks, her chin and down her neck to the collarbone. It was as if she wiped away her hurt with the salty dry traces of her weakness, and when she looked back at him, she offered Adam a face that showed complete attention.

“My friend. My best friend. Ross.” Now that he had started it, it was harder than he had first thought. But Juliet’s unwavering gaze, her entire silence and her unbiased face made it easier.

“He…when he died…he didn’t know he was dying. All he wanted to do was go home and see his wife. I told him he was going to meet her.”

Adam closed his eyes. He saw Ross, lying in his arms bleeding, his desperate, lost face pleading for…company? Guidance? He heard Ross’ dying voice, the childlike wonder and fear in it, heard his last words, Where am I going, Adam?

And then Juliet’s soft words brought him back to the present. “What had happened to him?”

“He…he was ill; in his mind. He thought…. He saw things, made up things, felt lied to, haunted. Betrayed by Delphine, his wife…by me…in the end he…he killed Delphine; and I…I followed him, tried to bring him back, tried to save him, save other people from him…I don’t really know. He shot at me, and I shot back, and he…he died in my arms. He was nearly his normal self again in his last minutes, and he was scared and he wanted Delphine….”

“And so you lied.” She pronounced it not as a question, not as an assumption, and clearly not as an accusation.

“I don’t know, Juliet. Maybe I lied, maybe I believed it; it never mattered compared to the fact that I’d just shot my best friend.” He nearly cringed at the harshness of his last words, but it was a harsh reality, and he didn’t feel like smoothing it over—and somehow he was sure Juliet would understand. He stared into her pale face.

She didn’t evade his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to do that.” She looked down onto her lap for a second, then back into his face. “It must have been the most nightmarish thing.”

This time all he could do was nod.

“There was…no help for it, was there?” Her voice was soothing, low, emphatic, and her eyes, her eyes…. Never had the sea of her eyes shown more turmoil, more…depth.

“No, but….” But what? He didn’t know how to say it, how to make her understand.

“But it’s not all right and it never will be. Not for you.” It was a statement. There wasn’t any judgment or valuation, only a pure and simple statement of a fact. How could he have ever doubted she would understand?

He shook his head. “No, not for me.”

“Yes…I can see why. No one should be forced to do such a thing. No one should have to carry something like that through his life. And yet we all have to live with our demons, it seems.”

She leaned forward and reached for him, and for a moment Adam thought she would pull his head to her chest like she had done with Josiah, but her fingers came to halt on his shoulder, trailed down his arm and rested on his hand. She squeezed his fingers, and her thumb stroked gently over the back of his hand until it hit the bandage.

Juliet lifted his hand and gave it a closer examination. “Didn’t you say this was nearly healed, Adam? It doesn’t look healed at all. The palm is all red and hot.” She poked at it carefully.

“It’s all right, really. It was a bit more than a scratch…. Actually I nearly cut off my thumb, and it got a bit infected…but Hop Sing put some poultice on it, and—really,” he emphasised when she lifted an incredulous eyebrow, “it’s going to be fine, I swear.”

She smiled weakly. “Be careful, I’ll hold you to that!”

She stooped over his hand as if she was about to kiss it better, but jerked back shortly before her lips touched Adam’s palm. She looked up, with flushed cheeks, and then they both turned their attention to the great view of the lake.

Adam heard Juliet taking deep, deliberate breaths, until she eventually turned to him.

“Listen, Adam,” she said in a somewhat strained voice. “You promised me we’d go to the lake today, too. Why don’t we pack our things and leave? We can part at the foot of the rocks and ride to the lake on different trails, and then when we meet at the lake, we can both pretend we didn’t cry on the way.”

She spoke quickly, hastily even, and beseechingly, and after a mere nod from Adam she stood and started to box up their picnic utensils. They worked together in the same unspoken, seamless way they had done while setting up their meal; and it didn’t take them long to clear everything away, mount their horses and carefully ride back on the narrow trail through the boulders.

They parted at the bottom of the rocks, as agreed, and Adam watched Juliet riding slowly in the direction he had pointed her towards. He no longer felt the need for any more privacy. On their way through the rocks, he had realised that he finally had found some peace about Ross’ death. In the past he hadn’t talked much about that unfortunate day he had chased after Ross, or about what had haunted him ever since, but there had been well-meaning people who had tried to console him, to make him feel better: his family, Paul Martin, Roy Coffee, the reverend. None of them, not even Hoss, with his eternal understanding for the ways in which Adam’s mind worked, had been able to alleviate his unhappiness; and the longer they had tried to comfort him, the more uncomfortable he had felt, as if he had no right to feel guilty, uneasy and troubled when obviously he hadn’t done anything wrong, and when apparently Ross was better off this way. Juliet had been the first person who had just accepted what had happened, shared his grief but offered no consolation. She had been the only one who had not tried to make him see the “good” in it, that Ross didn’t hurt anymore or wouldn’t hurt another person, or that he hadn’t been alone when he died from Adam’s hand. The only one who had seemed to understand that there wasn’t anything good in it and that Adam already knew he couldn’t have helped it but that it killed him anyway. The only one who had allowed him to simply grieve. And this had finally given him what he had been looking for all this time: acceptance.

And so Adam followed Juliet, keeping a distance that wouldn’t let her notice him, but allowed him to observe her and to be ready in case she’d need any help, and feeling more at ease than he had for a long time.

___________________________________________________________________

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool the pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
~ Emily Dickinson