Outlaws - An American Youth - [Charles Smith x OC]

Chapter 50 - A dinner in hell

I drove the cart leading us to my ordeal. Marc had always had coachmen to take him everywhere, he had no idea how to command this draft horse. Hearing us coming up the driveway, everyone on the ranch stepped out onto the porch to greet us. In the background, Charles watched our arrival. Marc noticed his presence.

"Hey, he's there too?

- Yes, he's helping Jim. You know a ranch takes a lot of work."

He nodded before hopping out of the vehicle, going directly to greet our hosts. I was glad he didn't help me down, I wasn't sure I could take physical contact with him again. Charles approached me and, without a look for me, took the bridle of our horse to go and tie it a little further.

John took Marc around the property, after this one insisted heavily. He seemed genuinely curious about this life he knew nothing about, a million miles from the Chicago socialites he was used to. Meanwhile, Abigail pulled me into the kitchen. She had totally missed her meal, far too ambitious, and was asking for my help.

I sighed when I saw the disaster and without delay, I regained control of the kitchen. She obeyed my orders and we managed to make up for her dinner. As the crisis passed, I decided to question her.

"Why you invited him, Abi?

- I wanted us all to agree on him, after all, you're still considering marrying him, right? We need to know if he is worthy of you. And then, it allows you to have your two suitors in the same room."

I was about to respond when we heard Mark and John enter the house. Abigail announced dinner, a big smile on her face at my inability to reply. She asked Jack to go get Charles, as she led me into the dining room, making me sit next to Marc. Sadie joined us. She still had to spend a good part of her day lying down, but I had allowed her to get up to have dinner with us.

Throughout the meal, I felt Charles looking at me, but I didn't dare look up in his direction, too afraid of what I could see in his eyes. I kept my head down to my plate, letting Marc do the talking. He never failed to give a compliment to me. I wanted to tell him to shut up, him and his unfailing kindness. I didn't want to be there, listening to his unwarranted praise.

I would have given everything to go back a few weeks earlier, relive that day when Abigail had returned. When it was just me and my friends. When the ranch seemed like a protective cocoon around me. Now, this house seemed to be like purgatory. And none of my prayers seemed to work out to get me out of it.

After eating, we all made our way to the living room. There, Marc noticed the presence of the piano and got excited.

"Anna, you absolutely have to play us something.

- I'm not sure Marc...

- But yes, you are. You will see, she plays divinely well."

With these words, he took my hand to guide me to the instrument, not letting it go until I was seated. Suddenly I realized his way. He exhibited me like one displays a trophy which had an amazing story to tell. Would this be my whole life if I married him? Would he proudly present me to good society like that hillbilly from the west who had managed to climb to the position of doctor? Who became an accomplished woman at his touch?

"I don't have a sheet music, I don't know what to play.

- Why don't you play that Chopin song, the one you used to repeat all the time in Chicago. I don't remember the name, a waltz.

- Waltz number 10." I whispered. I knew it by heart, despite months without real practice. But I didn't even want to play it. For me, it represented the past, the melancholy I felt in the metropolis, far from Charles and my old companions. This one, who had disappeared a few moments before, reappeared in the living room. I froze when I saw what he was holding in his hands. Marc stammered a few words to regain his composure, surprised to see that a farmer, moreover a non-white one, could own a score.