by Diana Bold
His family had been laid to rest on the north side of the plot. His gaze passed over the slabs, and he read the names and dates as though the bodies below were strangers. He didn’t know what he’d expected to find, but he’d thought he’d feel more. Instead, all he felt was emptiness and a sad, aching sense of loss.
Reaching beneath his coat, he pulled Lizzie’s doll from his inside pocket, bending to place it on his sister’s grave. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I miss you so much.”
Jessalyn placed her hand on his shoulder for support, but she remained quiet. He gave her a grateful glance and pushed himself to his feet. There was only one thing left to do, one thing he felt he must say.
He moved to the marble angel that marked his father’s grave and gazed at the inscription. For so long, he’d held his fury for his father deep inside him. He couldn’t imagine treating his own child the way he’d been treated. The earl’s actions directly after his children’s death could perhaps be justified by his overwhelming grief. But try as he might, Ethan had never understood why his father never made any attempt to remedy the situation during those long, lonely years that followed. Had he been ashamed of his actions and unable to find the words to say he was sorry, or had he taken his anger toward Ethan with him to the grave?
“He loved you,” Jessalyn whispered at last. “I’m sure he felt terrible for what he did. He just never found the strength to apologize.”
“Do you think so?” He didn’t believe her, but he couldn’t continue to live this way. “I forgive him,” he whispered. “I don’t hate him. I finally realized he was just weak and grief-stricken. If I lost you, I’d probably look for someone to blame, too.”
Jessalyn cupped his cheeks and gave him a rueful smile. “No, you’d blame yourself. But you’d be wrong. Because sometimes accidents happen. Life is unpredictable. It’s dirty and messy, but sometimes it can be beautiful and spectacular. You can’t have one without risking the other.”
“You’re right,” he agreed wistfully. “But I’m still afraid.”
“I’m glad you’ve forgiven your father, but now you have to forgive yourself. You are the best man I know. I just wish you could see it. Not one man in a million would have crossed an ocean to be with a friend in a time of need. Less than that would have agreed to marry me, a woman you hardly knew, just to keep me from disgrace.”
He gave a rueful laugh and shook his head. “That’s not why I married you.”
“No? Then why?” Hope lit her eyes, and he wanted to keep it there.
“I did everything I could to find a way out of marrying you, but it wasn’t because I didn’t want you, sweetheart. It was because I wanted you too much. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to walk away from you when I had to.”
“But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. You don’t have to walk away. I know you think you’re bad news, but you’re not. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Ah, sweetheart. It makes me sad to hear that, because you deserve so much more. You deserve someone who will love you with all of his heart.”
“And you don’t love me?” she asked softly.
He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “You know I do.”
She shook her head, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You’ve never said it.”
He bowed his head, utterly ashamed. She’d professed her love more times than he could count. If saying the words made her half as happy as she’d made him, he wanted to say them to her every day for the rest of their lives.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he whispered, determined to lay all his cards on the table before he said those words he wanted so badly to say. “I can’t bear the thought of living without you. I thought it would be better to just go away and never come back than to stay and watch something happen to you.”
“I can’t promise nothing is ever going to happen to me,” she told him through her tears. “But how can you say that? How can you even think death is better than taking a chance on life? On love?”
He felt much the same as he had the day he’d found the black orchid. As though he’d finally found what he’d been looking for but was afraid to reach out and grab it. “I do love you, sweetheart. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love somebody.”
She launched herself into his arms and clung to him with all her strength. “If you love me, then quit running. Just love me, Ethan. Love me now and don’t worry so much about the future.”
She was right. He’d spent so much time worrying he’d lose her, he almost had. He’d almost let all of his happiness slip through his fingers.
He pressed his lips into the soft cloud of her hair and breathed deeply, stunned by the wave of peace that washed over him. No matter how long he had with her, it would never be enough, but he’d cherish every day.
“I’m holding on to you, Jess,” he said softly. “And I’m never going to let you go.”
Epilogue
December 25, 1872
The shriek of children’s laughter echoed through the halls of Basingstoke Castle as four toddlers raced toward the towering Christmas tree in the main hall. The adults trailed behind their exuberant youngsters, exchanging fond smiles as the three girls and lone boy tore into their presents.
Ethan watched his son, Christian, with a proud smile. His grin grew even wider when his niece, little Amanda, shoved Christian out of the way. The little boy landed firmly on his rump, looking thoroughly put out. But, little gentleman that he was, he merely handed Amanda the gift she’d been reaching for.
“He’s so sweet,” Jessalyn murmured as she came up beside him, carrying their infant daughter, Elizabeth. “Just like his father.”
“Oh, I was a perfect little hellion when I was his age,” Ethan assured her. “Ask Julian.”
Overhearing their exchange, Julian gestured at his little Amanda. “You’re right. You were terrible. Maybe that’s where she gets it.”
Jessalyn laughed and handed Elizabeth to Ethan. “Hold her for a moment while I help our son.”
Ethan gladly complied, scooping up his tiny daughter and holding her tightly against his chest. He gazed down into her wide green eyes, and she cooed at him happily. She looked so much like the sister he’d lost, a tiny, feminine replica of himself. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe how blessed he’d become once he’d finally allowed it.
During the last few years, he’d found more happiness than he’d ever imagined possible. His children were a delight, and his beautiful wife never ceased to amaze him with the depth of her love. At first, he’d been terrified something would happen to her, and Christian’s birth had been a nightmare of stress and worry. But gradually, he’d made peace with his ghosts and learned to take each day he was given and live it to the fullest.
Tragedy would strike his life again. It was inevitable. One day he’d lose Jessalyn or Julian or perhaps even one of his children. But he no longer feared it would destroy him. It would hurt, but he would go on, if not for himself, then for whoever remained who still cared about him.
As he gazed around the great hall of Basingstoke Castle, at Julian and Jane, his good friends Dylan, Michael, Natalia, and Emma, and all of their children, he understood just how much joy could be had. This was their fifth Christmas together, and each one was better than the last.
He no longer felt the need to travel the world, searching for the elusive black orchid. In Jessalyn’s arms, he’d found all the adventure he could ever hope for.
His smiled at his wife, who knelt beside their son, helping him unwrap his toy train. “I love you,” he mouthed. “You are my life.”
“I love you, too,” she replied. “Merry Christmas.”
The End
From.Net