AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Especially knowing what she now knew.
“Well, then. We’ll bring up your bag when Bill returns with it.” He gave her a pained smile. “Good night, my girl.”
He turned to go. “Wait,” Margery called out.
When he turned back to face her there were tears in his eyes. She swallowed down her own.
“Thank you.”
She meant it as so much more than having her to dinner, inviting her to stay the night. She meant it also for welcoming her in, as they always had, for making her feel connected again to Aaron, for helping her to remember the good times before he’d gone off to war, before Waterloo, before the desertion.
He nodded, beyond words, closing the door softly behind him.
Margery stood numb in the middle of the room for a moment, feeling lost. Memories were flashing through her mind, faster than she could react to them, each one centered around Aaron, until she couldn’t breathe.
With a gasp she made her way to the bed, curled up on the quilt, dragged the pillow to her chest. Only then did the tears come. And they were a torrent.
She felt as if she were being emptied out, all the grief, all the pain of the past years without him. When she thought there could be nothing left and she must surely be wrung dry, however, the tears started up again. Only this time they had the flavor of anger to them. And not anger at herself for falling in love with another. No, this anger was focused on Aaron alone.
Her entire being shied away from such a devastating emotion. She had done everything she could to honor Aaron, to protect his memory. But she realized in that moment she had forgotten things in the process, like how much she’d hurt when he’d insisted on going off to war, how she’d felt abandoned when he’d left her though she’d known from the beginning that it was what he’d always wanted.
And then the newer anger at being blackmailed, and the betrayal of learning what the blackmailer had claimed was true. She let it all come, washing over her like a waterfall. Finally accepting that she was not without blame. She had put her late husband up on a pedestal, refusing to think badly of him, determined that no one else should, either. But she was human. And Aaron had been human as well, with all the messiness that came with it. And she realized in that moment that no matter what might have happened at Waterloo, it didn’t define Aaron. She knew who her husband had been.
Just as she knew who she was. She was no longer that fierce girl with stars in her eyes. She was a fierce woman who had seen her share of pain and had come out the other end of it stronger; who had loved a good man and lost him, and who now loved another good man who continued to suffer for a horrible, random tragedy. And, despite coming to Dewbury with the purpose of remembering Aaron and what he had been to her, and in the process burying her love for Daniel, she saw now that would never happen. Just as she would love Aaron all her days, she would love Daniel as well, and the loving of one did not diminish the love for the other.
But she would not think of Daniel just then. She couldn’t. There was still too much to resolve in her heart for that, too many things to fight before she could think of any possible future.
She prayed, by this time tomorrow, she might know what to do about it.
Chapter 22
The faint bustle of a busy household starting its day woke Margery just before dawn: the muted sound of laughter, a baby’s demands for breakfast, the clatter of dishes. She stretched, wincing at the soreness in her back and neck, and looked down at herself. She was still clothed, though her shoes were off, a blanket she didn’t recognize tucked about her. A quick scan of the room in the dim predawn light and she saw her shoes placed neatly beside her bag near the door. Joan must have come in last night after she’d cried herself to sleep. She should perhaps feel embarrassed that she’d needed caring for in such a manner. Instead she felt a spark of warmth in her battered heart. Life went on, didn’t it? The proof was in the changes here in Aaron’s old home. It was as if she had, quite literally, weathered a frightening storm the night before and opened her eyes to clear skies.
Mr. Kitteridge was the first to see her as she entered the kitchen. “Good morning, my girl,” he said with a wide smile. The sadness of the night before was no longer clouding his eyes, a new vigor in his step as he made his way to her and kissed her on the cheek. “And did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you. But goodness, Joan, that smells divine. Can I help you?”
Joan grinned at Margery over her shoulder. “Not a bit. Have a seat. The bread is already toasted, and these eggs are almost done.”
Margery greeted Bill, who was trying to steal a triangle of toast—and a kiss—from his blushing wife. Then, greeting a bright-eyed Wesley, who was happily gnawing on a wooden horse on a blanket in the corner, she sat across from Mr. Kitteridge. Once again Margery felt fairly enveloped in love and goodwill.
Only now she felt as if she were missing something precious. Daniel’s face floated into her thoughts. How she would love to share such a scene with him, seeing his happy face in the morning, stealing kisses, doting upon their children—
She frowned. How could she have come here determined to forget about him and only find herself more certain of her love for him? But she could not think of him now, not while she was in this place, with these people. So she laughed and ate, reminiscing gently about the past. And felt a certain melancholy—yet healing—farewell in it.
When breakfast was over and done, Bill rose and kissed his wife and son.
“As much as I wish to stay, I must be off.” He turned to Margery. “I hope we’ll see you again, and soon?”
Margery smiled. “If that’s an invitation to return, you may depend upon it. You just might grow sick of me.”
“Highly doubtful,” he said with a grin, kissing her cheek and shaking his father-in-law’s hand before heading out the door.
Margery, rising from the table, was about to help Joan clear the dishes and clean the kitchen when Mr. Kitteridge spoke.
“Will you give me a minute of your time, my girl?”
Margery blinked, surprised, as she sank back down. “Of course.”
