“Of course you do,” came the expected remark.
Katherine was sorry she had spoken and expected silence to ensue, but May-Jewel continued speaking.
“I had that outfit made in Boston. I wasn’t born there though. I was born in Florida. We moved to New England when I was twelve.”
Katherine lay motionless. Oh, for once will you just be quiet, and she tried to block May-Jewel’s babbling with her pillow.
But May-Jewel couldn’t stop talking. It was as if needles were pricking her scalp, and her head started to throb. “I have a lot more dresses at home. Robbie and Jeremy bought most of them for me as gifts.” She didn’t want to say that. She didn’t want to say anything at all. But her legs were quivering as if they didn’t want to support her. Her heart beat faster, and her hands were shaking. Why was she still talking? She only knew that if she didn’t talk, she might explode. “Mother visited Florida many times,” she continued, her voice slightly strained, “but the last time that she went, she didn’t return home. Three days after she arrived at Aunt Constance’s house, there was a fire and Mother… Mother didn’t make her way out of the bedroom. She was the only one that died in the blaze. They said it was an accident, but I lost my mother regardless of the cause.”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Katherine replied. For the first time she listened to what was being said and was saddened by May-Jewel’s loss.
May-Jewel seemed deaf to Katherine. She became overwhelmed by a sudden loneliness and rambled on even more, comforted by the sound of her own voice. “Boston is nice this time of year. One is never truly alone there. Spring is warmer on our north-eastern coast than it is here. I don’t think that I brought enough clothing to keep-”.
“Enough clothing!” Katherine sat up and glared at her, anger surging forth. “You brought enough clothing to clothe every woman in Scotland! It took fifteen minutes for the coachman to retrieve my small case from beneath your pile of luggage, and all the while I was forced to wait in that horrible smelly dining room filled with drunkards!” It wasn’t the fifteen minutes nor was it the amount of baggage that her half-sister traveled with that made Katherine so angry. It was the correlation between herself and May-Jewel that she hated. Her mother had died the same tragic way, in a fire, and she, too, was alone. And they even shared the same blood. But Katherine didn’t want to have these things in common with the vain trollop from Boston. It was just one more reason to hate her. She detested having to share the same miseries with the spoiled, pampered woman.
Katherine’s violent retort shook May-Jewel free of her near hysteria. “You know,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’ve had just about enough of you!”
“You’ve had enough of me!” Katherine shrieked.
“Yes! Ever since we’ve met, it’s been nothing but sulk, sulk, sulk, and it isn’t my clothing that’s bothering you.”
“You are correct! It’s not your clothing.” Katherine shot out of the bed. “It’s the fact that you’re a fraud. You’re a besom, a slut, the daughter of a rich harlot, fathered by accident by a bloody Scotsman who didn’t have enough sense to leave his trousers on! You’re a bastard and you’re no better than anyone else even though you certainly pretend to be!”
“Why you sullen bitch!” May-Jewel moved toward Katherin, her violet eyes becoming black slits. “If anyone’s a bastard, it’s you! If anyone’s a slut, it was your mother! Not only a slut, but an enslaved slut, bought and sold, and used to satisfy Robbie’s lust, then tossed away like a fetid piece of meat!”
“That may well be! But it only took one man to satisfy her need for love. How many men did it take to satisfy your mother?”
The slap resounded throughout the room as Katherine was knocked to the floor. Stunned into silence, she stared up at May-Jewel, her hand on her cheek. Years of torment and restrained anguish were then released in the tears that rushed forth. She sat pressed against the wall, her legs tight against her chest. The confrontation purged Katherine’s heart and laid bare its secret pain.
May-Jewel, shocked by her own violent action, stood aghast with her hands held over her mouth. As she stared down at her half-sister, compassion instantly overcame her anger.
Katherine started speaking in low weepy tones and through broken sobs. “All those years, my mother pined away for that vile man and willingly existed in that horrible little cottage instead of living in Wistmere where she really belonged. Why? Because of her difference… because of her race. And I hated her for that difference!” She covered her face and cried. “I hated her for giving birth to me and giving me her skin.” The truth had finally been spoken. This was the crux of what Katherine had carried within her. This was what had tormented her every time she looked into a mirror, and what she thought she saw reflected in the faces of those she met. This perception was what had prevented her from opening herself to love as she was forever critical of those she met before they could become critical of her.
The room seemed to hold its breath as a brooding silence crushed the spirit of the fight in the two women. Katherine rose and sought the bed, weakened by the emotional release. She hadn’t been aware of all the anguish that had been buried within her for just being the daughter of Cora St. Pierre.
“That’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it?” May-Jewel whispered, herself in tears, “our mothers!”
“If Sir Robert had had the decency to let her return to her own people, my mother would still be alive,” Katherine lamented. “When I was
