by Vikki Vaught
Mary Elizabeth had started to fuss, so she took her upstairs to feed her and put her to bed. Her daughter’s room looked so pretty. It had pink walls and a homemade throw rug on the floor. Brandon had Mary Elizabeth’s cot and dressing table set up. Soon her daughter fell asleep in her arms, and she put her in her bed. Melody took a deep breath and went back downstairs.
Mrs. Worth had supper on the table in the dining room and told them she would return in the morning and left. Once they were alone, Melody grew nervous. It became difficult to swallow her food, and she pushed it around on her plate. Brandon ate with gusto, and he finished quickly.
He leaned back in his chair. “What a delicious meal. You didn’t eat very much. Are you feeling well?”
As Melody stood, she said, “I’m fine, just nervous. I think I will go up to bed. It’s been a long, tiring day.”
“Yes, go on up. I think I shall sit in the parlor and read my newspaper before I join you.” She tensed when he mentioned joining her, and Brandon immediately added, “Don’t worry, we’re both tired from the journey, so all we will do is sleep. I promised to give you time, and I meant it. You will decide when you’re ready to consummate this marriage. We have the rest of our lives to be with each other, so relax, no need to be nervous, all right?”
While it would only prolong the inevitable, nonetheless, relief swept through her. “Thank you, Brandon. I appreciate your kindness, and I promise I’ll be ready soon. I need a little more time to adjust. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When Melody went to her room, Millie helped her get ready for bed, and then she left her alone. She looked around the room. The bed had a pretty blue counterpane with white ruffles. She appreciated the effort Brandon had made to make her feel at home. She hurried and climbed into bed, and since she was so tired, she fell asleep right away. She never heard Brandon come to bed.
When she awoke the next morning, Brandon was already gone. He’d left her a note, telling her he would be home around five o’clock. She went downstairs and found Mrs. Worth fixing breakfast in the kitchen. “Good morning. When did you arrive? My husband didn’t tell me your schedule.”
Mrs. Worth curtsied. “I get here at seven in the morning, and I stay until supper is finished. Once I have the kitchen cleaned up, I leave. Is that all right with you?”
“That sounds fine.” Hearing her daughter’s cry, she said, “Ah, there’s my daughter, Mary Elizabeth, so I shall go get her. She likes oatmeal for breakfast. I usually put plenty of milk in it, to thin it down. Can you have it ready when I return with her?”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. I know exactly how you want it fixed. I used to feed my little ones the same thing. Go on with yourself and get your precious little girl.” Melody smiled pleasantly at Mrs. Worth, then left the kitchen to get Mary Elizabeth.
When she walked into her daughter’s room, she found her standing up in her cot with a big smile on her face. It almost brought her to her knees, since it was so reminiscent of Henry’s smile. Feeling her heart seize up, she stiffened her spine, refusing to give into the grieve that threatened to overwhelm her.
She quickly changed Mary Elizabeth and carried her back to the kitchen. Mrs. Worth had her daughter’s breakfast waiting for her. After Melody fed her, she took her outside and they sat on a blanket, playing for hours until Mary Elizabeth got sleepy.
She spent the rest of the afternoon helping Mrs. Worth tidy up the cottage. Her maid quickly handled the unpacking, and Melody appreciated Millie’s dedication. It helped having her, because she’d been with her through it all. The day passed fairly quickly, and before she realized it, it was nearly five o’clock, so she went upstairs to freshen up before her husband returned.
Brandon arrived home in an excellent mood, and he had a big smile on his face when he greeted her and Mary Elizabeth. “Don’t you both look lovely. How did your day go? Are you all settled in?”
Smiling bravely, and determined to be cheerful, Melody replied, “Yes, and Mary Elizabeth and I had a splendid day. My daughter particularly enjoyed being outside. Since it was such a nice day, we played for hours, and I helped Mrs. Worth tidy up the house.”
“I’m glad you had a good day. Mine was exceptional. I’m going to enjoy teaching at this school.”
“How many students are in your class?” she asked.
“I have fifteen, and they’re eleven years old. Most of the boys come from well-to-do merchant families, and they seem to be well-behaved. I’m confident they will respond well to my teaching. I think I’ll go into the parlor and read my newspaper. I shall see you at dinner.”
As she turned to leave the room, Melody told him, “I’m going to feed Mary Elizabeth. Then after we play a bit, I will put her to bed. She usually goes to sleep around seven, so we can have supper after that. See you in a bit. Enjoy reading your paper.”
After she fed Mary Elizabeth, she put her to bed. She joined Brandon in the dining room, and they ate a delicious stew with lots of fresh vegetables in it. Melody was hungry, so she ate more than she had the night before. Brandon told her more about his day, and it was a pleasant, relaxing meal.
After dinner, they went to the parlor, and he read while Melody did some sewing. Her hands shook as she plied her needle when thoughts of the night to come ran through her head. Whether she was ready or not, she would give herself to Brandon tonight.
At ten o’clock, Melody stood and took a deep breath, determined to speak in a steady voice. “Brandon, I’m going upstairs. I will be ready for you to join me in thirty minutes. I have decided we should consummate our marriage. Waiting will only delay getting on with our lives.”
Brandon’s gray eyes darkened as he met her gaze. Her heart pounded as she waited for his reply. “Whatever you want. I will join you in thirty minutes.”
Millie helped her prepare for bed, and after she was in her night rail, she sent her away. As she sat at her dressing table brushing her hair, her fingers could barely hold the brush. Her stomach twisted into knots over the night to come. Of course, she trusted Brandon and knew he would be gentle with her. Soon the door opened, and Brandon came into the room.
As he entered, he asked, “Melody. Are you sure you’re ready for this? You know I’m more than willing to give you more time, if you feel you need it.”
She walked over to him and met his gaze, steeling herself for what would happen. “You’re my husband now. There’s no reason to wait.”
“As you wish.” The night lamp was on the bedside table, so he turned it down, then quickly removed his clothes and got into bed. Brandon pulled her into his arms and gave her a chaste kiss. Then he raised her gown to her waist and moved over her.
She blinked back tears, not wanting him to know of her distress.
Why did I think I was ready?
While she did not want to compare, she found it impossible. When Brandon finished, he rolled over, pulled her into his arms, then kissed her forehead and fell asleep. Lying there, she tried to stop the memories from coming, but she could not. Although he had been gentle, he was not Henry.
She would never feel passion for Brandon. This relieved her, because she did not want to have those feelings with someone else. She would welcome her husband into her bed whenever he wanted, but she would never give him her passion. That she would keep in her heart for Henry. Melody rolled over and buried her head in her pillow, letting the tears slip silently from her eyes. After quite some time, she allowed sleep to take her away to a happier time. A time when all was right with her world. Before fate took the only man she would ever love away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Franciscan Monastery
Brussels, Belgium
While he helped the monks clear their garden patch, a wave of dizziness rolled over him and he passed out for a moment. Shaking his head when he came to, he suddenly realized his name. Nothing else came forth. He rushed inside, and when he found Father Francis, he blurted out, “Father, I’ve remembered my name. It’s Henry. Do you
think this is a good sign?”
Father Francis smiled. “It is, and it could mean your memory is returning. Do not try to force it. If you do, you could damage your brain, and then you will never get it back. You have to let these memories come back to you naturally. They will probably return in bits and pieces, from what I have read. This could take several weeks, or even months. However, I do feel your memory will be restored.”
Frustrated, Henry ran his fingers through his hair, but Father Francis was right. Every time he tried too hard to remember, the excruciating headaches returned. “It’s so difficult to wait. What if my memory never fully returns? It’s been over a year since I was injured, and so far all I’ve remembered is my given name. I shall go mad if the rest doesn’t come back.”
The priest folded his hands and laid them upon his ample belly. “You need to have patience. Now, why don’t you go back out and finish your work.”
He sighed deeply, nodded and went back outside. One thing he had learned while living in the monastery was patience, so he just needed to apply some of it.
That night, Henry awoke fully aroused. He’d been dreaming of a woman with long honey blonde hair, but he could not see her face. An intense yearning for this woman pulled at his heart.
She’s obviously an important piece to this puzzle.
Why can I not see her face?
When the headache returned yet again, he forced himself to go back to sleep. Some time later, he jerked awake with his heart pounding to the sound of cannon fire, and there were men dead and dying all around him. A large horse screamed, and then his mind went blank again.
God, this is so frustrating.
I’ll go insane if I do not start putting these pieces together.
He supposed he must be remembering part of the battle. Perhaps this meant his memory was returning. Father Francis did say it would come back a little at a time. Tomorrow he would talk to him about these dreams. He punched his pillow and settled against it. After a time, he slipped back to sleep.
The next morning, he hurried through his morning ablutions and went to find Father Francis. He found him in the library. “Do you have time to talk? I had a couple of dreams last night, and I think they could be glimpses into my past.”
Father Francis beckoned him in. “Of course. Sit and tell me about them.”
Henry sat in the stiff wooden chair in front of the priest’s desk and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “I dreamed of a woman last night and felt a strong sense of connection to her when I awoke. Then I dreamed about a horse and a battle.”
Father Francis nodded. “These are the first dreams you have had, are they not? I definitely feel this means your memory is beginning to return. All of this is encouraging. Shall we go to breakfast? We have another long day ahead of us.”
He went through his day with hope in his heart. He sent a silent prayer to heaven, thanking God for sending him a sign that his memory could be returning.
Over the next couple of months, he had the same recurring dreams, but he began to give up hope that anymore of his memory would return. Now that spring had fully arrived, Henry relished helping the monks with their garden. The monastery depended on the fruits of their labor to help feed them. Taking a moment to wipe his brow, he surveyed the green sprouts breaking through the tilled soil and felt a huge sense of accomplishment. He enjoyed the physical activity and suspected he must have been an active man before he lost his memory.
The next day while in town, he came upon several young men engaged in a fencing match. He grew lightheaded and briefly passed out. When he came to, a new memory was there. He’d been fencing with a laughing young man. They had joked with each other as they pranced around a large, cavernous room. Unfortunately, a name was not part of the memory. He sensed this man was someone he knew well and suspected he had known him for a long time.
Oh, God, why can I not remember more?
After he returned from town, he rushed to Father Francis. “I’ve had another vision into my past. When I was in town, I passed out again.” He proceeded to tell him what he had seen. “I tried to concentrate on the vision, then that blinding pain I get shot through my head. I’m going out of my mind. I need to remember. I have another life out there, and I want to get back to it. Isn’t there something else I can do?”
Father Francis smiled. “My son, I know this is extremely difficult for you, but as I mentioned before, you must let these memories come back to you naturally. All of this is an excellent sign. Your memory is returning. It’s quite normal for you to experience these dreams and visions. It is rare to suddenly wake up and remember everything at once.”
Henry paced back and forth between the priest’s desk and the window, while running his fingers through his hair. “I’m trying to have patience, but it’s so hard.”
The priest closed his book. “I realize this is difficult. However, you need to continue to be patient and have faith that God will return your memory, in His own time. I suggest you pray each day for His wisdom. That is the only thing you can do to help. All this is in His hands.”
“All right, Father,” he replied. “I shall try praying. Since living here with you, I have realized my faith isn’t as strong as I want it to be. I question whether I was a spiritual man before this happened. Wonder if the reason I can’t remember is because I was a dreadful person and did terrible things? Help me, Father. I feel tormented by this.”
Father Francis walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “I feel we’ve become good friends since you came here to live. Even though you do not remember your past life, your nature has not changed. You are a good man now, and I’m confident you were a good man before you lost your memory. God does not want you to be so tormented. Please put this in His hands.”
Henry took a deep, cleansing breath. “Thank you, Father. I needed to hear that. I promise I’ll be more patient and leave this for God to resolve. Well, I need to return to the garden. I shall see you at the evening meal.”
He returned to his tasks and pondered what Father Francis had said. He would have to turn to God and let Him handle this burden for him.
He continued to dream of the woman with the long honey blonde hair, and sometimes he caught a brief glimpse of her face, but nothing clear. What he could see of her, she was beautiful. He always awoke in an aroused state every time he dreamed of her. He now believed the woman could possibly be his wife. If this woman was, she must surely believe he had died after all this time.
He still continued to dream of the battle, and every time, he awoke bathed in sweat. The dream was becoming more detailed. A Frenchman came at him with a bayonet. He saw himself jump free from a horse, but then his mind would go blank when he woke up from the nightmare.
After his talk with Father Francis, when he woke up after one of these dreams, he would get on his knees and pray. It did seem to help, because he felt more peaceful, and then he would fall back to sleep and sleep dreamlessly for the rest of the night. He also found he did better when he performed hard physical labor. He was still experiencing headaches if he tried to dwell on these memories too intensely. While the days with the monks were peaceful, sometimes he yearned for more activity.
* * * *
The days became shorter as Christmas drew near. Melody enjoyed decorating the cottage with plenty of holly and evergreens. Mary Elizabeth had started walking, and it was such a pleasure to watch her grow. Her heart ached knowing Henry would never see his beautiful child. She was such an adorable little girl, with red-gold curls floating around her face and big blue eyes. Melody thanked God every day for giving her this precious gift. Henry would live on through his daughter.
Melody suspected she was with child again. This shocked her, since Brandon had only taken her a few times the first month of their marriage. They had realized friendship was all they could ever have. Their hearts would forever belong to Lily and Henry.
Christmas came and went, and Melody told Brandon about the babe. He wa
s as taken aback as she. While he assured her he was pleased, she saw a fleeting glimmer of pain in his eyes. Obviously, he remembered losing Lily and their child.
Mary Elizabeth celebrated her first birthday, and she was already starting to run. She was an active child and extremely bright. She already called her “Mama” and added new words to her vocabulary every day.
Spring came quickly that year. It went from deep snows to beautiful spring flowers in a matter of weeks. Now that spring had arrived, she particularly enjoyed spending time in the garden behind the cottage, and she and Mary Elizabeth spent hours there every day. Her pregnancy was coming along nicely, and she was getting huge. She had experienced little difficulty with Mary Elizabeth’s birth and expected another easy delivery in July when the babe was due.
Brandon wanted a son, and she hoped for his sake it would be a boy. She would like a son as well, since she already had her daughter. On the anniversary of Henry’s death, Melody grew morose, although she tried not to show it. It had been two years since his death, yet she still could see his precious face in her mind as if he had just walked out of the room. She prayed his memory would never fade.
July was hot and dry, and she felt miserable. She was quite a bit bigger than she’d been with Mary Elizabeth, and the babe was extremely active. The child was due any day, and she wished he would hurry up and come.
Brandon seemed quite nervous over the upcoming birth of the babe. Understandable, since he had lost Lily from childbirth. Brandon was such a thoughtful, caring man, and she felt so blessed to have him.
On the tenth of July, Melody went into labor. Since Brandon was at work, she had Mrs. Worth send a message, telling him her labor had started. When he arrived at the house, he had the midwife with him. Since the pains were still mild, she laughed at Brandon’s expression when the mid-wife refused to allow him to stay in the room.