by Maureen Lang
Then she strode forward, feeling them watching. It must be disgust filling them, making them ignore the rain drenching each and every one. She did not hurry. She no longer cared if she was soaked.
She’d failed. The profound, utter embarrassment at the sight of Royboy revealed her failure. Failed as his sister, failed as a child of the most loving and forgiving God. She’d failed as someone who could accept a future of children just like Royboy.
Shame had no place in a family of Royboys. Amid all of the unfair whispers and stares, the rumors and shunning of those in the village, she’d always clung to the comfort that God’s Word was full of acceptance for the outcasts. Clung to the knowledge she’d done nothing to deserve a curse; nor had her mother, and not Royboy. How could she have failed so miserably?
There might have been some shred of dignity left if she lived without shame.
Cosima reached Royboy, and he flapped his hands. He was evidently excited by the storm. She took one of his muddy hands in hers, wishing she could apologize to him in a way he would understand. But she knew finding the words would be as impossible as it would be for him to comprehend them.
He greeted her with one of his high-pitched utterances and pulled on her as if intent on staying in the mud and rain.
“Royboy, come inside,” she said, but his slippery hand fell easily from hers. Reaching for him again, another hand intercepted hers.
She turned, startled by Peter’s close presence.
Royboy accepted Peter’s outstretched hand.
“Come in,” Peter said gently and put an arm around Cosima, leading the way.
They were sodden by the time they stepped inside the foyer, but so were all of Peter’s family. Maids were already present, offering linens.
Cosima started to lead Royboy away. She wanted nothing more than to be with her brother and not with Peter’s family. A range of thoughts and emotions assailed her, trying to ease her guilt. If they hadn’t been so eager to condemn her back in England, perhaps she wouldn’t have felt this shame. Was this how it would be? Would she give them grandchildren she could not possibly want them to share? ones they wouldn’t want anyway?
She needed to get away, escape the feelings too strong to hide. She couldn’t look at any of them, not even Peter.
“I’ll tell someone to get Decla,” he whispered to her.
“No, I’ll take him.”
“All right,” said Peter. “We’ll all have to change from these wet things anyway and give my family a chance to settle in before we meet back down here. Perhaps we should wait and meet your parents then.”
It was too late for that, however, as both of Cosima’s parents emerged from the blue room.
Cosima eyed her parents’ faces, warm with welcome until they saw Royboy. Her father’s face seemed to stiffen before her eyes, and her mother’s became exasperated.
“Good day to all of you,” said her father, who recovered first. He stepped closer to Lord and Lady Hamilton. “Welcome to our rainy Ireland, but you know, without all the rain we wouldn’t have such an Emerald Isle, as it’s called.”
“True enough,” said Lord Hamilton, and the two of them shook hands.
Cosima tried to slip away, Royboy at her side.
Lady Hamilton’s voice stopped her. “Cosima,” she called, “is this your brother?”
Cosima felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. With one deep breath, she turned back. “Yes—just the person,” she managed to say, “not all the mud.”
To her surprise, Lady Hamilton laughed. She stepped closer. “I’m pleased to meet you, Royboy.”
“How do you do.” It was a line that had become as rote as any other in his vocabulary. He said the words but did not look at Lady Hamilton. Instead he stared somewhere in the vicinity of the wall behind her.
“There’s quite a bit of rain today,” Lady Hamilton commented.
“Rain today,” said Royboy. “Yes.”
Cosima started to pull him away again, and he seemed willing to follow.
But Lady Hamilton took Cosima’s free wrist. “Cosima—” her voice was hushed—“I’m pleased to meet Royboy, pleased to be here with you and Peter. I’ve missed you both so much, and . . . I wanted to tell you something I’ve learned.”
Cosima looked at her, curious. “Learned?”
“Yes . . . about myself. Here I am, as old as I am, and I realized I have yet another flaw. One would think I shouldn’t still be learning about myself by now.”
Cosima said nothing, wondering if Lady Hamilton could possibly be nervous, the way her hands fidgeted.
Lady Hamilton’s gaze fluttered downward. “For most of my life, I’ve had a weak faith.”
A moment ago Cosima could barely look upon Lady Hamilton. Now she studied her, trying to read behind her words. “What do you mean?”
“I suppose this is neither the time nor the place, but I find myself so eager to unburden myself I cannot wait. I must ask your forgiveness, Cosima. The Lord God has done nothing but whisper to me since the moment I began acting any differently toward you. I was wrong and unwilling to listen to the words God Almighty put upon my heart.”
“What words are those, Lady Hamilton?” Cosima asked. For once, Royboy wasn’t trying to pull away. It was as if he wanted to hear as well, although she knew that couldn’t be true.
Lady Hamilton paused. “I’ve always been so sure of what I believed.” She smiled and put a hand over her heart. “I thought I held it all in here, but found I didn’t after all. Not really. I used to profess that God is the creator of all and the owner of all. We’re here by His grace, and all we have is not really ours but His. On loan, for a time. What we’ve been given—from the possessions we have to the children we bear—are simply put into our care, not through anything we’ve done but by His generosity.”
She placed a hand on Cosima’s wet shoulder. “You see how I’ve failed in proving that faith, don’t you, dear? When it came to a test, I failed. I thought Peter was mine. Now I see that I need to trust the faith He’s given Peter, and I need to trust Him as well. Can you forgive me for my lack of faith, Cosima? A lack of faith that obviously hurt you?”
“I . . . have nothing to forgive. You acted only out of love for Peter. I understand that. I’ve tried to talk him out of marrying me as well.”
Lady Hamilton laughed. “Yes, I know! Your behavior made it so much more difficult for me to cling to all of my silly ways. You and Peter are the ones God used to remind me what faith really is: trusting that God wants only what is best for us.”
Royboy tried to squirm free of Cosima’s grip, but she held fast, only to let go a moment later when Peter joined them and Royboy stood next to him. It must be as clear to Lady Hamilton as it was to Cosima that Royboy had become attached to Peter even in the few weeks since they’d met.
Peter stood between Cosima and his mother, a curious but hopeful light shining in the brown depths of his eyes. His gaze settled on Cosima. “Weren’t we right, Beryl and I?”
Cosima’s heart soared. “Yes, Peter,” she said with a nod. “I’m happy to learn you were both absolutely right.”
43
The church service ended, and Talie glanced at Aidan as the three of them walked out of the auditorium. He probably hadn’t heard a word of the sermon.
“We’re going to get Ben,” Talie said. “You’re welcome to come back to our place if you want.”
Aidan shook his head. “I’m going to Dana’s.”
Talie and Luke exchanged glances.
“I have to return the journal, at least,” Aidan said, as if defending the visit.
Talie put a hand to his arm. “I’m so sorry, Aidan.”
He tilted his head. “For what? For me, because your sister is dumping me?”
“No. I should have said something sooner—about the genetics. I denied it as long as I could. Too long, as far as you and Dana go.”
He patted the hand she rested on his forearm. “I’m not going to blame you for
giving me the time to fall in love with Dana while she still wanted to date somebody. What’s the old saying? It’s ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’?”
She pressed her hand downward. “Are you sure it has to be lost, Aidan?”
“Talie—” Luke’s reproachful voice was like a sting to the deepest part of her heart.
She never took her gaze from Aidan’s. “I want you to pray about all the options—not just how you and Dana will get through a breakup.”
* * *
Talie and Luke picked up burgers on their way home from church. Even fast food was acceptable since she couldn’t taste it anyway. It wasn’t the most nutritious meal, but it was certainly the most convenient, especially when cooking a traditional Sunday meal was the last thing Talie felt like doing today. Only happy families sat down to formal Sunday dinners. Old-fashioned, Norman Rockwell families.
Talie started to take a bite of her burger but thought she might be sick. Right now no food, nutritious or otherwise, appealed to her. That morning her mind had found a new source for uneasiness, and she hadn’t been able to shake it during the entire church service or since. A single thought had erupted like a germ in her brain, multiplying and festering inside her head until it spread to her heart.
One question demanded an answer: Did she love Luke enough to let him go?
44
My life has taken so many unexpected turns these past few months that I begin to feel nothing can surprise me. And yet this evening has proven once again that one never knows what will happen next.
I sat with Peter at dinner, at one end of the table near Beryl and Christabelle, while both sets of parents were at the other end having their own conversation. We had just finished the last course. I could not help but send more than a few glances my parents’ way. Who were those two people hosting this dinner, so congenial and at ease with their guests? They laughed and exchanged stories as if they were not a bit like the two most private people I had known all of my life. It was a sight to behold, especially considering Peter’s parents seemed to find them charming.
Then Melvin arrived in the dining room and made the most startling announcement. . . .
“Sir Reginald Hale,” Melvin intoned, much like the proper butler whose role he had taken on.
Cosima cast a startled gaze toward the door as the announced man confidently entered, hat held in his gloved hands, an easy smile upon his face. What could possibly have induced Reginald to make the long trip to Ireland? And uninvited?
The man in question bowed a greeting, then briefly scanned those seated at the table until his gaze settled on Peter.
Clearly Peter was as shocked as Cosima. Coming to his feet, he looked from Reginald to Cosima, then back to Reginald. “Reginald.” He offered no greeting beyond that, rather stood silently as if waiting for the man to explain his unexpected appearance.
Reginald’s smile was so familiar it was as if nothing had ever changed. “I’ve come in peace, Peter. In repentance and the deepest desire to set things right between us.”
Peter folded his arms. “I can’t imagine why. You’ve proven you’re no friend to me and less than that to Cosima.”
“I’ve come to beg forgiveness.” Reginald now turned from Peter to Cosima. “From both of you. I am deeply sorry for whatever heartache I may have caused.” He looked back at Peter. “It was only temporary though, wasn’t it, chum? If it hadn’t been for me, no doubt you never would have met Cosima.”
“But why did you lie to me, Reginald?” Cosima asked.
His gaze went momentarily to the floor. “Only to keep you from talking to anyone about . . . about the curse. So long as you believed I’d already received counsel from someone as honorable as Peter, you had no reason to ask me to speak of it to anyone. I worried others might not approve. Some people actually believe in silly curses, Cosima, and as I made quite clear from the beginning, I was willing to overlook that. As Peter obviously does.”
“But you told her a lie,” Peter said. “Reginald, I have no use for lies.”
“Of course, man! I never did lie to you, though, did I? And I only did what I did to achieve my goals. I see the error of my ways now, and that’s why I’ve come. To ask your forgiveness and let both of you know I wish you the best.”
Peter seemed to be studying his old friend, as if trying to decide whether or not to believe him. Once lied to, Cosima thought, trust was not so easily won back.
Then Peter looked at her. “His wrong hurt us both, but he’s correct that it was temporary. Selfish motives seldom have a good result. But it was you he wronged most, Cosima. Say the word and I shall send him away. I can’t think why he endeavored to travel here without proper invitation.”
Cosima took a deep breath. She’d thought she hated Reginald when he’d betrayed her, but with her heart so full of love for Peter it was difficult to find room to hate anyone. So many images of Christ’s forgiveness came to mind that she knew what she had to say. She should not hesitate. And yet she did.
Reginald, however, looked so hopeful and friendly that her hesitation ended.
“I’ve been forgiven so many times,” she said. “’Twould be wrong of me not to offer the same to you, Reginald.”
He walked forward, stopping next to her chair. For a moment she thought he might bend down and embrace her for the very first time. She was relieved when he only took her hand, but he shook it so thoroughly it jarred her all the way to her shoulder.
Cosima’s mother stood. “We’ve just finished our dinner, Mr. Hale, but we can have something brought in for you if you like.”
He was already shaking his head. “No, but thank you. I do wonder, though, if I might beg use of the lovely room I had the last time I was here. I plan to return to England tomorrow, but it’s a bit late to start back tonight.”
“Yes, of course. But, oh dear, that particular room has already been given to Peter. I hope another will do.” Cosima’s mother sent a footman for Melvin, directing him to have a room prepared. “You’ll join us for tea and cake, though, won’t you, Mr. Hale? If it’s stopped raining, we plan to enjoy it on the veranda. The setting sun is a lovely sight from there.”
“Of course.” He bowed again.
While her parents led the way, Cosima moved to meet Peter, but Reginald came to her side before they reached each other.
“You are most kind to forgive me, Cosima. I wonder if I might speak to you again before I depart tomorrow?”
Peter was there, taking her hand in his. “What about, Reginald?”
“I’d like to speak to both of you, actually,” he said, smiling broadly. “Only to reestablish our friendship, of course.”
Cosima could see no good in such a notion. “I don’t think—”
“But you mustn’t refuse me, Cosima. Before I left England, I spoke to the dowager. She was very plainspoken, as you might expect. I need only regain your friendship and all of London will welcome me with the favor I’ve always wanted.” He paused, attempting to coax a smile from her with one of his own. “You’ll do this for me, won’t you, Cosima? And give us a foundation right here, tonight?” He looked at Peter. “The three of us. I will wait for you in the library at eleven, for just a half hour of companionship, nothing more. To see if my future might be salvageable?”
He was gone before Cosima or Peter could refuse, catching up to Cosima’s parents on the way outside.
Beryl approached them before moving toward the rest of the party. “I heard all of that, and if you ask me it’s preposterous that your grandmother said any such thing, Cosima.”
Peter nodded. “It doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
Cosima frowned. “He must be desperate to reestablish friendship.”
“Indeed,” Beryl said, then harrumphed. “Without Peter’s endorsement and connections, his businesses will be half what they are today.”
“I suppose that’s why he wishes to speak to me, too,” Cosima said. “To help persuade you back to a
friendship with him.”
“You should do just the opposite, Peter—personally and professionally,” Beryl said.
“It would be the end of him were I to sever professional ties with him.” He offered a half smile at Cosima. “What of the forgiveness we just offered?”
“Forgiveness is one thing,” Beryl said before Cosima could reply. “Keeping him under the prosperity of your wing is quite another.”
Peter led them on the same path to the veranda the others had taken. “We’ll see him and decide after that.”
45
“There’s something I want to talk to you about, Luke,” Talie said quietly, then put her straw in her mouth and drew hard on her vanilla shake. The action eliminated the tremble in her lips, and she hoped to swallow away any weakness in her voice. She must be strong, for Luke’s sake.
Over his king-sized hamburger, he looked at her. “Shoot.”
Since she’d first had the idea to broach this topic, she’d been unable to come up with a good way to begin. She’d hoped a way would come with the moment, but with that moment here, the words didn’t come after all.
A prayer for wisdom was in order, except the whole subject was such a miserable one she hadn’t talked to God about it, not even at church.
“I was wondering . . . well . . . thinking, I should say . . . that with this fragile X business . . . Ben being the way he is, and not knowing if the new baby will be all right—”
Luke set aside his hamburger and looked at her with brows gathered in concern. “Are you regretting we didn’t go ahead with the amniocentesis?”
“No.” She paused again. “This isn’t about the amnio. It’s something . . . harder to talk about.”
He took another bite of his hamburger, then some fries. He was behaving so naturally she knew he hadn’t a clue what she was about to offer him.
“I don’t know what could be hard to talk about between us, Tal,” he said. “We’ve done just about everything there is to do with each other: laughed and cried and everything in between. What’s up?”