Unrelenting Love: Banished Saga, Book Five

by Ramona Flightner

  At Zylphia’s frustrated frown, Teddy clasped her hands between his. “She’s the only person who understands all I experienced. I couldn’t break the connection with the one person who …” He shook his head.

  Zylphia nodded in resignation. “Is there any hope for us?”

  “Of course there is.” His gray eyes were lit with a fierce intensity.

  “I promised you, when you returned, not to hide any part of me. I meant it. It’s nearly impossible to realize you didn’t mean the same.”

  “Zee, of course I did. I promise I planned to tell you about the war. About her.”

  “When? After we were married? Did you think I’d be content sharing you?” She cupped his closely shaven cheeks between her palms. “You should know I’m greedy. I’ll never be content sharing you.”

  His eyes mirrored the uncertainty and fear in hers. “What do you want to do?”

  “I need to go home and think about what you’ve told me. I’ll contact you when I want to see you.”

  “No, that’s not good enough. We have to agree when to next meet. I refuse to wait with futile hope, uncertain when you’ll contact me.”

  “In two days, Teddy. Meet me at my house. We’ll have tea.” Zylphia rose and moved toward the door. She paused and looked back at him just before she opened the door. Regret, longing, and pain flitted over her features before she slipped from the room.

  Florence McLeod moved with a ballerina’s fluid grace as she navigated her kitchen from the sink to the table to the oven and back. Zylphia watched Florence with unconcealed envy as she extracted a cake from the oven, poured boiling water into a teapot, and then sliced another cake for their afternoon snack. “Thank you both for making the journey here, rather than meeting at Sophie’s house,” Florence said when she finally joined them at the table.

  “No need for thanks,” Sophie said. “You have your young ones to consider, and it is much easier for us to travel than for you.” She raised an eyebrow as she looked at Zylphia. “Thankfully I dissuaded Zee from taking the horrid trolley.”

  “I will admit that your automobile is much more comfortable than the trolley. However, there is much less cause for artistic inspiration than when riding public transport.”

  “I should hope so,” Sophie said with a wry smile. When Zee remained silent and downcast, Sophie frowned. “I understand that it is essential in today’s meeting to discuss the upcoming vote. We need a continued presence in the popular papers after our successful march. We must sway the undecided to our way of thinking.”

  Florence nodded her agreement but appeared to bite back her words at Sophie’s swift jerk of her head to remain silent.

  “After the success with the children’s penny project, I’m certain I can convince the zoo to allow us the use of one of the elephants. I mean for you to ride the elephant down Beacon Street,” Sophie said with a nod to Zylphia.

  “An elephant, yes,” Zylphia said. She started and focused on Sophie a second later. “I’m not riding an elephant!”

  “Of course you aren’t. However, little seemed to garner your attention, including the upcoming vote. Now, before we attempt to discuss plans for our part in ensuring victory, you are to tell us what is troubling you.”

  “They’re just pre-wedding jitters.” Zylphia took a sip of tea and reached for a piece of Florence’s zucchini bread.

  “Most brides starve themselves in their attempt to fit in the dress their modiste deems appropriate,” Sophie said as she watched Zylphia devour the slice of bread.

  “I’m not like most brides,” Zylphia retorted.

  “Exactly. Two days ago you carried around that dratted wedding folder as though it held the treaty to the Great War. Now you won’t even mention your wedding.” Sophie reached forward and gripped Zylphia’s hand.

  “You look like you did when Teddy was missing,” Florence whispered. “Clinging to hope but afraid that you’d have that hope proven false.”

  Zylphia looked from Florence to Sophie, her eyes filling before she lowered her head to the table and sobbed. Florence scooted her chair around so she could pull Zee into her arms.

  Zylphia leaned away from Florence, pulling a cream-colored handkerchief from her pocket to swipe at her face and nose. “He still writes that nurse.”

  Sophie nodded once. “I see.”

  “I don’t,” Florence said, shaking her head in frustration as Zylphia and Sophie shared a knowing look.

  “When Teddy was injured in France, he became involved with a nurse. They continue to correspond. I was at his house yesterday, waiting for him in his library. I found a letter from her.” She swiped at her cheeks as tears continued to fall. “I think she loves him.”

  “That’s not your concern, dearest. Does he love her?” Sophie asked.

  “I think so. He appreciates how she helped him.” Zylphia took a deep, bracing breath. “He believes she is the only one who truly understands all he experienced and doesn’t want to lose contact with her.”

  “Oh my.” Sophie sighed. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I could accept anything as long as he was returned to me. Now I realize that was childish. I told him yesterday I can’t share him.”

  Florence gripped her hand. “Of course not. You don’t want to share him now. But you will have to accept that you shared him while he was away from you.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” Zylphia whispered.

  Sophronia harrumphed. “You can and you must, if you love him.” Her aquamarine eyes shone with a fierce determination and decades-old sorrow. “You must learn to live with the reality that you will never be the only woman he’s loved. However, he’s chosen you, Zee. He returned to you.”

  Zylphia pushed an errant wisp of hair behind her ear as she thought through Sophie’s words. “He never would have told me about her, about his time in the war, if I hadn’t found the letter. He didn’t trust me.”

  “Is that true?” Florence asked. “Were there times he began to speak of what he suffered but you encouraged him to not dwell on the past?” At Zylphia’s hurt expression, Florence squeezed her hand.

  “Dwelling on the past never does any good,” Zylphia said. “I’ve learned that.”

  “I agree. However, sometimes we must speak about our past and the horrors we’ve lived through in order to overcome them,” Sophie murmured, gentle censure in her scratchy voice. “To know that those we love most accept us completely is an extraordinary gift.”

  “I promised not to hide from him when he returned, but he continued to hide from me!” Zylphia cried.

  “Perhaps he did so because you didn’t want to hear about what he’d suffered. Have you ever, even once, considered that he wrote that nurse because he felt as though at sea and needed someone, anyone, to talk to? That if you’d offered him your understanding, your compassion, rather than your determination to look to the future, he might never have turned to her?” Florence asked.

  “Flo,” Zylphia whispered.

  “I’m sorry if I speak harshly, but you need to hear these things. No one is ever blameless when there is a disagreement. You must learn to take your share of the blame.” Florence squeezed Zee’s hand before rising for the kettle warming on the stove to refill the teapot.

  Sophie watched Zylphia with fond amusement as a few tears trickled down Zylphia’s cheeks. “I’d think those would be embarrassed tears. Flo has the right of it. You need to think of your young man in all this, not just you. He’s suffered worse than you will ever imagine.”

  Zylphia took a sip of tea, holding the cup with both hands so it wouldn’t shake and so she wouldn’t spill the tea all over the table. “It’s much harder than I thought it would be.”

  At her whispered admission, Sophie shook her head in exasperation. “You young ones think everything will be easy. Nothing is easy. Everything is hard. Even when life is going well, things are hard. You have to find your inner fortitude, Zee, and face this challenge. Be the strong woman T
eddy needs you to be.”

  Zylphia paled and kept her gaze downcast. “I understand, Sophie. And I’ve always been thankful for your counsel.” She paused as she swiped away a tear. “It’s just that I’m so tired. I’m tired of being strong. Always putting on the brave face and being the one to prop everyone up.”

  Sophie’s cane slammed onto the floor and caused such a jolt that Florence and Zylphia jumped in their chairs. “You’re too young for such a pathetic display of self-pity. The fact is you are strong. You always have been, and you always will be. That is a blessing, Zylphia McLeod, and not something to bemoan. If you truly love this young man, and by all appearances you do, then you must regain your gumption and fight for him. And for you.”

  Florence took Zylphia’s hand. “I can understand Zee’s concern. Sometimes we want others to be strong for us. To fight the battles for us.”

  “Then you’re a fool. No one can fight the battles for us the way we’d want them fought. And you’ll never be satisfied if you don’t fight, Zee.”

  Teddy paced his laboratory, staring at his previous experiments in an attempt to harness enthusiasm to restart them. He walked to his desk and flipped open his ideas notebook, pausing when he came to sketches he’d done of Zylphia. He traced her irreverent smile and marveled at the innocent enthusiasm for life in her expression. He flipped the pages, coming to details of his experiment, but then slammed his notebook shut in disgust.

  He approached one of his workbenches and sat at a stool in front of it, picking up a mechanical part. He closed his eyes as his hands and arms remembered long-unused movements and manipulated the small wires and pieces of metal. Groaning with frustration, he slammed down the piece, breaking it, as his injured fingers were unable to accomplish what he wanted.

  He moved to the window, bracing a shoulder against the frame, and glanced out at the treetops, the branches becoming more skeletal with each gust of wind. He held up his mangled hand and shook his head in disgust. Lowering his hand to his side at the knock on his door, he called out, “Come in.”

  “I wondered if I’d find you brooding in here,” Aidan said as he entered and closed the door behind him. He appeared as debonair as always with an immaculate slate-gray suit and matching waistcoat over a white shirt. His bright blue eyes flashed with concern as they spied Teddy leaning against a window frame.

  “Sir,” Teddy said, moving to meet his future father-in-law. “Forgive this room for being such a mess. I have done little to clean it since my return.”

  “I imagine it’s difficult to return to a place that seems unchanged, except for a few layers of dust, when you’ve been so altered.” He nodded at Teddy’s flush of agreement. “How do you manage to do the finer adjustments now?” He glanced at the smashed experiment on one table and tilted his head in concern.

  Teddy flushed a brighter red. “I haven’t determined how to successfully do that as of yet, sir. Not with my hand as it is. As it always will be.”

  “Perhaps you need to take time and discover other avenues you wish you investigate.” He glanced at the tables, their experiments dormant. “I imagine other topics interest you more now.” Aidan watched Teddy with a curious glint in his eyes, as though Teddy were the day’s experiment.

  “May I help you with something, sir?” Teddy asked, his flush transforming from one of embarrassment to annoyance.

  Aidan pulled out a small card with an address scribbled on it. “I believe you would benefit from writing my nephew, Jeremy McLeod.”

  “Why should I wish to write a man I don’t know?” He examined the card and frowned at the address. “A man who lives thousands of miles away in Montana?”

  “It has come to my attention that you are quite adept at letter writing.” He smiled at Teddy’s chagrined expression. “He too lived through war. A different sort of war, but war all the same.”

  At Teddy’s persistent silence, Aidan said, “I can imagine you believing it awkward to write such a letter. He knows who you are, as Zylphia stayed with him and his wife, Savannah, when Zee was in Montana last year. He consoled her when she received word you were missing.”

  “There is no reason for me to write a stranger.”

  “Isn’t there?” Aidan asked. “I understand the desire not to burden those I love most with my deepest fears. With what I perceive to be my failures or personal shame. However, this isn’t a business failing, Mr. Goff. This is much deeper than that, and you need to cauterize the wound. Jeremy understands, better, I believe, than that nurse.”

  Teddy exhaled a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “You believe your nephew is more acceptable as a correspondent to your family than the nurse is.”

  “He should be to you also, Mr. Goff.” Aidan watched him in confusion. “You profess to love Zylphia. To want her as your wife. You can’t have divided loyalties, not with someone like Zylphia. You’ll both become miserable, and I want joy for the two of you.”

  “No one’s life can be filled with joy,” Teddy rasped.

  “No, but you can choose to want joy, rather than despair. You can make an active decision to see beauty and goodness and hope instead of decay and evil and desolation.” Aidan gripped Teddy’s arm and gave him a shake, his jaw gripped in anger. “Surely you see this. Surely you learned this after what you’ve suffered.”

  Teddy shook his head at Aidan. “I do. I’ve tried, every day since I’ve returned, to put the war behind me.”

  “Write Jeremy. I have every faith he will aid you, as he has had to overcome the same fears and doubts as you. Something that no one else, not even your nurse, has had to do.” Aidan met Teddy’s gaze for a long moment, coming to a silent accord before Aidan gripped Teddy’s forearm in farewell and moved toward the doorway. “I wish you well, Goff.”

  Teddy collapsed onto the window sash at Aidan’s departure and stared at Jeremy’s name. He slipped the card into his pocket, uncertain as to what he planned to do with the information.

  Morgan entered his mansion, giving his hat to his butler before turning so that his coat could be eased off his shoulders. He approached the stairs to ascend to his study but stilled his steps when he heard the plaintive music emerging from Parthena’s private study. His approach muffled by a thick carpet, he peered through the partially open door. Rather than the proud, determined Parthena who passionately played the piano, his wife appeared devastated as she sat, ashen and defeated, her hands evoking a lament.

  The door creaked open with his entrance to the room, and she glanced up at him. He glowered as he saw her grief, her expression even more grim than the day she had married him. Than any day of their married life.

  He approached the piano bench and crouched down. He silenced her music, now appropriate for a funeral. “My Parthena,” he whispered. “What happened?”

  She exhaled a breath that sounded like a sob, shaking her head in denial. “I won’t let it happen, Morgan. I don’t care what I have to do, but I won’t let it happen.”

  He tugged her to fully face him. “I don’t know what has caused you such distress. Tell me.”

  “Of course you do! You planned the entire thing with my father. I was just too stupid to know better and went along with your plans.” She curled down into herself. “Why I ever thought to be the dutiful daughter, I can’t say. It’s not as though he’ll ever truly love me.”

  Morgan stroked a hand over her shoulder and back but retracted his hand as though from a flame when she reared up and glared at him. “Tell me.”

  “My sister Genevieve is to marry Mr. Carlisle. On the fourth of December. Amid much fanfare.” Her cheeks became ruddy with her anger as she watched him pale.

  Morgan rose, swearing as he spun to face the doorway. “No. That was never to happen.” He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it in his agitation. “She was to be spared.” He pulled an ottoman close to Parthena and collapsed onto it. “What did your father do?”

  At Parthena’s blank stare, he leaned forward but refrained from t
ouching her. “I gave him enough money to save him twice over, Hennie.”

  “You couldn’t have. He told me that you reneged on giving him any money and that’s why—” She broke off when she saw his irate expression.

  “Do you really believe me so low that I’d do that? That I’d renege on a promise? A duty?” he asked. “For no matter what you are, Parthena, providing for you and keeping you safe is a duty to me.”

  He sat on the ottoman again, his elbows on his knees as he studied her. “I know we don’t agree on much of anything. You want me to support you in all you do, although you don’t like that I have the same rights to my opinions and beliefs.” He smiled as her eyes flashed their ire at him. “However, I will always see to your care, Hennie. Even though you may not believe me, I will always want to see you happy.”

  She outstretched her hand, tentatively stroking his hand. It was the first sign of affection from her in their marriage, and he attempted to refrain from overreacting as his fingers twitched under her soft touch. “I think this is his way of telling me that he despairs of me. He hates that I marched in the suffrage parade.”

  “Then he’s an even slower learner than I am.” At her perplexed look, he traced a finger along her jaw. “He should have learned long ago that you are stubborn enough to follow your dreams and that nothing will prevent you from attaining your goals.”

  She frowned. “You sound almost pleased.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  “What will we do?” Her heartbroken voice tore at him.

  Morgan clasped her hand tenderly, giving it a soft tug.

  She watched him warily but allowed herself to be coaxed into his arms, coming to settle on the ottoman between his legs.

  “I don’t know. Not yet. Have your sister for tea within the next few days. We have to find a place that’s safe to send her. She must leave Boston and your father’s sphere of influence.” He sighed into her hair. “God help us when your other sisters come of age and we have to protect them too.”