She didn't want Kristian, she wanted Karl. The face was too angular and deep-etched to be called handsome, and it radiated a harsh power of personality; the solid conviction of a leader who knows he is never wrong. And Charlotte thought, Will I still see you if I change? Mother, you didn't let me say goodbye! Charlotte, is anything wrong? said a voice in the doorway. Charlotte felt tears pushing at her throat, her eyes, and she thought, No, don't let me start crying, not now.
She held her, staring at the creamy curve of her neck with its down of tiny pale hairs, conscious of the sweetness beneath the peach skin. Karl leaned his head against Kristian's shoulder, the compliance of surrender in every line of him. You look almost as pale as the invalid. She shook her head at Maddy, frowning.
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