Counterpoint

Chapter 67

Alexander

   For the first time in a considerable span of time my work has ceased to amuse me. The usual fire that I would light underneath myself to complete a considerable amount of work has been extinguished down to a few smoldering embers. I drum my nails against the top of Thomas's desk as I sit in his office, the door locked. There are only three more days before Thomas comes home, but it still feels like a lifetime from this moment. He hasn't said much about his trip, relenting the information that Washington had simply constructed this false business trip so both Virginians could reduce the strain caused by their homesickness.

   Initially, the truth had annoyed me, especially the fact that Thomas after learning the truth hadn't gotten back on a plane and returned to me. It was a selfish impulse to simply assume that he would return to me without even pardoning a glance or visit to his family. For that selfishness I am guilty without a doubt. I understand why he chose not to return immediately, however I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a little bitter about him not returning here when he could have. The opportunity had presented itself to him, but he had neglected to take it, but I can't hold him too accountable for that. It is natural to want to be around your family. 

   I would have probably done the same thing if I had known where my brother was. His decisions are his own and I respect them. He did what he felt was right for his own life, to support himself and his future endeavors even if that meant leaving me behind. In all fairness, I wasn't long off from making my own way in this world and we would have only dragged the other down in our attempts to get off of the island. Fair is fair. 

   My thoughts are disrupted when the doorknob jiggles. My eyes narrow in confusion as I glance over at the wall clock in confusion. It is almost six o'clock in the evening, hardly anyone should still be here at this time in the evening. My palms lie flat on the desk as I stare at the door with a mix of surprise and confusion. The doorknob ceases its jumping and there is a pause before a tentative knock sounds through the air. I tentatively rise to my feet, crossing the room with floating steps barely even feeling the contact of my heels on the floor. 

   The lock clicks into neutral position before I slowly pull the door open. Familiar brown eyes meet mine and a luscious red smile stretches across her lips. My heart falters slightly at the sight of her as she stands in the doorway, her slight stature appearing fuller than the last time I had seen her.

   "I'm glad that I was able to find you here." She gently breaks the silence. "I was told that if you weren't in your office then you would most likely be here." 

   "What are you doing here Maria?" I ask softly. She laughs quietly as she leans against the doorframe.

   "Don't worry, I'm not here to start more trouble for you." She looks up at me with tired eyes. "There was just someone that I thought you would like to meet." 

   "I suppose you can come in for a little while." I sigh, stepping out of the doorway and making my way back to Thomas's desk. "Just don't break or steal anything." I hear her scoff before stepping out of my line of sight. I sink down into Thomas's chair feeling ridiculously small in his large chair as I apprehensively wait for whoever is going to walk through that door next. It doesn't take long before Maria reappears, readjusting her shirt as she walks in. 

   "Don't be shy." She calls gently through the door, her expression softening exponentially. My chest tightens as a small girl walks through the door. Her dark curls are pulled back in a tight ponytail making her resemblance even more striking as all of her freckles become painfully evident. She has the same brown eyes as Maria, but everything else resembles her father down to the smallest detail. "Alexander this is my daughter Frances."

   No words come to me as I stare at the child with wide eyes. She stares back at me with her mother's eyes, curiosity playing across her rounded features. There are so many questions bouncing around in my head, but I don't dare to ask a single one of them in front of the child. 

   "How old are you?" I ask quietly, my words gently floating in her direction for fear of scaring her if I had asked in any other manner.

   "Four." She whispers in response. My mind scrambles to do the mental math before finally concluding that it's accurate and she really is who I think she is. Regardless of my involvement in the affair between Maria and John there was never a time where I had laid eyes on this child. I hadn't even been made aware of the gender of the babe when it was born. All I could think about was John's disappearance and how much it angered me that he had left me to clean up his mess without so much as a letter of farewell. 

   "She doesn't know him, Alexander." My eyes quickly flit back over towards Maria who is standing with her arms crossed lowly across her chest, her fingers holding onto the creases of her shirt in an attempt to hold herself together. "She wasn't given the opportunity to meet him at an age where she could remember him." I glance back down at the child who is staring at one of the paintings that Thomas has adorning the walls. She is staring at it with such wonder that it is strangely beautiful.

   "Have you heard from him?" I ask softly, cautious to not capture the girl's attention. 

   "No," Her voice cracks slightly as Frances walks closer to the painting, placing her hands on the wall as she stares up at it. "And I never will again." Our eyes clash and I understand the meaning behind it. There is the sharp twist of a blade deep within my chest and it makes it difficult for me to breathe. It would appear that the conclusion I had drawn all those months ago was correct. 

   "When?" I struggle to keep my voice from wavering.

   "It was two years ago apparently." She comes to stand beside the desk, her eyes occasionally flitting over towards her daughter's slight form. "His wife had finally decided to contact me two days ago and confess to me that she had been responsible for withholding that information."

   There are no words for this kind of moment. Everything feels as if it had ceased all forms of movement. All I can see in this moment is the little girl who seems to be radiating with vitality standing mere feet away from myself. A part of me wants nothing more than to cover her, shield her glow from any other eyes so no one can see her the way that we see her, protected from the darkness of the world. It would appear that I have become an unfair man.I want to shield her, but I am uncertain that I can.

   "Why did you bring her here?"

   "I wanted at least one of you to meet her." She murmurs. "It is important that she knows there are people in this world who love her." 

   "You think I love here already?"

   "I know you will, because you loved him and he would want you to love her."