A Pretty Dream

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Charlotte stared between the two envelopes on the kitchen table, trying to determine if she should subject herself to her mother's letter first or take the coward's way out and read its contents tomorrow.

It was true, in the past few months since they'd made it back from Chicago, her mother's letters hadn't been as sharp or needling, but that didn't mean she chose to say nothing of her and Arthur's relationship in some form or another, now that she knew about the pregnancy.

Clark and Felicity's own unexpected baby announcement distracted her mother's focus for awhile, but she never stopped leaving a postscript with a passive aggressive question, usually asking when Arthur was going to do 'right by her.'

Charlotte knew that was her mother's way of saying she was ready to host another wedding. However, Charlotte was done with those kinds of events for herself, and there was no need to subject Arthur to high society again. Once they returned home, she found herself appreciating the pleasantness and quiet of her life even more.

Tranquility sounded more favorable today so Charlotte decided to set her mother's letter aside for the time being. She'd come at it tomorrow with a fresh resolve and sturdier frame of mind.

She turned her attention to the other letter, realizing for the first time this one was also postmarked from Chicago. For a brief moment, she feared her mother had caught onto the fact that she tended to postpone reading her notes and had sent another with no return addressee. But no. It was from from Mr. Mason and it contained a friendly message and a picture wrapped in brown paper.

She wasn't surprised to find it was the photograph Mr. Mason had taken of her and Arthur during Clark's party. Nevertheless, she remained in awe of its quality. In her experience, the expression of the subjects in portraits nearly always turned out either angry or brooding. But Mr. Mason was a true genius behind the lens.

Somehow, he'd captured the affection she'd directed at Arthur as he reciprocated with a warm smile and clasped her hands. They gazed into each other's eyes so completely enamored, as if it had been their wedding celebrations that day and not her brother's.

Charlotte set the picture in the side table by the door for safe-keeping and looked around the kitchen for something else for which to keep herself occupied. Arthur and Karen had gone into town together this afternoon and Charlotte was on strict orders not to do any work.

She rested her hand on her stomach now, which had grown to a size and shape that was easily recognizable as a baby in residence. Since their unexpected gunfight in Annesburg, everything had settled, but she wouldn't necessarily say it had all gone back to normal.

These days, she wasn't allowed to do much else than think and she had another month of daily mulling to struggle through. Daylong bed rest would soon become the norm and she wasn't looking forward to it.

Certainly, she had enough books to keep her mind occupied, but perhaps the other two could be convinced of a nightly card game to pass the time. She needed something to fill the evening now that Arthur had finished telling her most of his past.

It was her request to hear about who might come after Arthur some day, but at first, he'd seemed at a loss on where to begin. So, instead of asking about all the people he'd wronged, she'd asked him gently of his mother. It worked to help Arthur start to unravel his past. Every night, for an hour before they fell asleep, he shared a few stories.

During that first week, she heard fully of his childhood. He'd spoken of his mother with a soft loving tone, telling Charlotte of a game they'd used to play where she'd hide little scrapped paper of sketched animals around the house for him to find. Then later, more somberly, when he'd watched her fade away with an unknown illness.

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