Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5

by Ramona Flightner

  “Yes, although I believe it to be more than a claim,” Savannah said. “They were attached to her and her to them.”

  “That’s how it should be,” Sophronia said.

  “I know. But it’s hard to reconcile all the time I’ve lost with my daughter.” Savannah rubbed at her temples. “Those first months when I believed she was dead and then all that time due to Mrs. Maidstone lying to me. I know Mrs. Maidstone is helping me now, but I lost nearly nine months with Adelaide … with Hope …because of that woman’s deceit.”

  “Did you ever suspect, even for a moment, that she might have been threatened by your husband? You did mention, months ago, that you’d seen him in the North End. I wonder if he’d been calling on her.”

  “What could he possibly have said to her that would cause her to persistently lie and mislead us?” Jeremy asked.

  “Fear is a tremendous motivator, as I’m sure you both understand. And we all have secrets, although we like to think we don’t. Determine what he was using as leverage, and then you might find it within you to have a little more compassion for the woman.” Sophronia sighed. “As for the Woodhouses, we must formulate a strategy that will entice them to our way of thinking.”

  ***

  “I THANK YOU, DELIA, for attempting to help Savannah.” Aidan collapsed onto the hard wooden chair in front of her desk. “I can only imagine how much it meant to her to be able to hold her daughter.”

  “What would you do if you were to hold your daughter in your arms again?”

  “Weep while I rejoiced,” Aidan murmured, a distant look in his eyes. He shook his head as he focused on Delia. “But that’s not to be. I held my dead infant daughter in my arms. I know she’s lost to me.”

  “What was your wife like?” Delia blushed as the question burst forth, unintended.

  “Tall, buxom, opinionated.” He paused with a faint, fond smile as he remembered. “She had a vitality, an insurmountable amount of energy. Always saw everything in a positive manner. She wouldn’t allow me to rot away in my office or warehouse. Insisted I participate in all the events she organized. She was very social, was never happier than when she was with her friends.”

  “She doesn’t seem the type of woman you’d like.” Delia frowned at his description.

  “She forced me to embrace life, rather than wallow in my grief, as was my desire.” His smile was bittersweet. “In fact she reminded me of you.”

  “Of me? She doesn’t sound a thing like me,” Delia sputtered.

  “Well, I agree, not physically. But you were passionate like her. Full of life.”

  “Please, Aidan,” Delia said as she held up her hand. “Please stop. Forget I asked such a foolish question.”

  “I’m glad you did. There remains too much between us that’s unsettled.”

  “It’s not possible to set to rights all that’s wrong between us.” Delia shuffled a pile of papers on her desk from one side to the other.

  “I’d like the opportunity.”

  At his soft, emphatic words, she met his gaze. After a few moments—where she stared into his eyes, seeing regret, loneliness and hope—she shook her head, breaking eye contact. “Too much has happened, Aidan.”

  “Do you have someone else? A deep, dark secret that shames you?” he teased. “We’re old enough, Delia, for honesty.”

  “I’m married to the orphanage. All my energy must go to the children here. I’ve nothing else to offer anyone.”

  “I refuse to believe a woman as vibrant as you is satisfied by this half-life. You must want more. You deserve more. If only you had the courage to seek it. That’s an important lesson my wife taught me. The only limitations on our happiness are the ones we fasten for ourselves.”

  Delia flushed with anger. “You have no idea what my life is like. What it’s been like. Don’t you dare judge me and intimate that all I need do to fashion my own happiness is to imagine it, and it will blissfully appear. As though all I needed to do was stroke the lamp and harken the genie. Life isn’t that simple, Aidan. Anyone who believes differently is a fool.”

  “Do you believe I don’t know how hard it is to struggle every day to find happiness? I held my wife in my arms and watched her life’s blood seep from her, impotent to aid her in any way. I watched as my infant daughter struggled for every breath she took until finally the struggle was too great, and she died. I know what it is to claw myself out of apparently insurmountable grief by my fingernails. And I won’t be called a fool for believing I have the ability to create my own happiness.”

  He breathed out through his nose in an attempt to calm himself, a brilliant flush limning his cheeks and fire lighting his deep blue eyes. “If you truly believe I was in any way trying to demean you, or the life you’ve led since I left Boston sixteen years ago, you never knew me.” He took a deep breath as he watched her with sorrow. “And I never knew you.”

  Delia’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course you knew me. If you didn’t, then who else besides my mother has ever truly seen me?”

  Aidan studied her during a tense silence. “Where is my courageous Delia? The one who stood up to me and showed me what a fool I was? What happened to her?”

  “She learned how cruel and unforgiving life could be. That the world is not kind to women who don’t follow societal norms. It’s better to be unremarkable than to be noticed and suffer for the attention.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I loved the wrong man.” She met his gaze with a defiant tilt to her head.

  He sat back in his chair as though he’d been struck. “Me?” When she remained silent he asked again, “Me?”

  Her sorrow-filled eyes were her only response, and Aidan held a hand to his head. “There’s no hope, is there, Delia?”

  “None, as I attempted to tell you the last time you were here. Any association between the two of us is best come to an end.”

  He studied her with inscrutable eyes. “So you’ve said.” He rose, heaving out a sigh. “I wish you a good day.”

  “Do I have your word you’ll not return to the orphanage?”

  “No, I can’t make any promises when I can’t see up from down.” He paused at the door, waiting a moment before he faced her and murmured, “I’ve never believed I loved the wrong woman.” He opened the door to the sound of her quiet sob.

  CHAPTER 21

  A LOW FIRE WAS LIT in the fireplace in the front parlor in the orphanage. Savannah moved from picture to picture, looking at the photos hanging on the wall. She paused at one, studying a girl standing in the second row. “Jeremy, look at this.”

  He approached her, tracing a hand down her arm until he laced his fingers with hers. “Yes?”

  “Is this Florence?” Savannah asked as she pointed to the grainy picture and the girl.

  He leaned forward, squinting at the photograph. “I think so. I’d have to ask her to be certain, but I don’t know as she’ll ever want to return here.”

  Savannah spun to face the door as it opened. Mrs. Maidstone entered with the Woodhouses. Mrs. Woodhouse carried little Hope. Mrs. Maidstone nodded to Savannah and then backed out of the room, closing it behind her, granting them privacy.

  Hope squirmed when Mrs. Woodhouse stopped walking and was set down. Savannah knelt, calling out to her. Hope walked to her, her short legs tottering a little until she found her balance. She then moved with amazing speed.

  Savannah held out her arms, and Hope approached her, watching her with curiosity. Hope reached out, tugging on Savannah’s sparkling bracelet before tracing the pink glass. She gurgled something to Savannah, smiling as she climbed onto her lap. Savannah laughed, tilting her head backward to keep Hope from pulling too hard on her matching earrings. She reached up, unfastening them and handing them to Jeremy, who slid them into his pocket.

  Hope frowned, reaching forward to trace Savannah’s ear, pulling on her now bare earlobe. Savannah giggled at her feather-light touch.

  “That tickles, darling,” Savannah
said, reaching to tickle Hope’s belly. Hope chortled with glee, arching her back and squirming. After a moment, Savannah stopped, leaning forward to hug her and kiss her on her forehead.

  Hope pushed away and began to explore the room. Savannah glanced toward the Woodhouses and saw them studying her. She smiled and then turned to watch her daughter.

  Mrs. Woodhouse moved to a settee with her husband standing behind her. “It is good to see you again, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “Although the scandal only seems to grow with each new day,” her husband said. “How many newspaper articles are there?”

  “Quite a few I’m afraid,” Savannah said as her daughter returned and crawled onto her lap. She curled up and fell asleep, allowing Savannah the opportunity to lean over and kiss her head.

  “Why would you court such notoriety?” Mr. Woodhouse asked. “I’ve tried to understand. I can comprehend leaving a violent man. However, I’d think you’d want it done as quietly as possible. I wouldn’t think you’d court infamy.”

  “It was either I told them my story or they reported falsehoods, and I’d never have the opportunity to speak my truth.” Savannah took a deep breath, appearing to calm as she stroked her daughter’s silky hair.

  “Even if the notoriety means you will lose access to your daughter?” Mr. Woodhouse asked.

  Savannah jerked, her ministrations to her daughter pausing for a moment before restarting again. “I’d like to think we could come to some sort of understanding.”

  “John,” Mrs. Woodhouse said in a firm tone. “What my husband is attempting to say, in his blundering way, is that we remain concerned that your reputation will harm dear Hope.”

  “I understand your concern.”

  “That is why we cannot allow her to be returned to you to be raised by you,” Mrs. Woodhouse said.

  “Please,” Savannah whispered.

  “We can’t allow it until the time arises that you are a married woman living with your husband. If that were to occur with Mr. McLeod, that would be acceptable. You’d still have the tarnish of divorce, with a tinge of notoriety associated to you, but you’d be within the respectable societal norms.”

  “I see,” Savannah whispered. She bent over Hope, rocking to and fro. “Does this mean this is the last time I’ll see her until things are settled?”

  Mr. Woodhouse set a hand on his wife’s shoulder, but she spoke. “No. I’ve spoken at length with John, and I believe you should play a role in Hope’s life. If not as her mother raising her, then as her aunt visiting her. Lowell isn’t that far away, what with the trains.”

  “I see,” Savannah repeated. “I’d hoped you’d be willing to move to Boston.”

  “No, ma’am,” Mr. Woodhouse said. “There’s little that could entice me to live in this big city. I like Lowell just fine. We have family there, and my work will likely pick up again, like it always does as the spring nears.”

  “I’m happy for you, sir.” Savannah cleared her throat as her voice had thickened. “When can I see her again?”

  “We plan to return to Boston in a few weeks. Why don’t we meet at your friend’s house?” Mrs. Woodhouse said.

  “The first part of March,” Savannah said. “Yes, that would work nicely.” She kissed Hope one last time as Mr. Woodhouse moved from behind the couch to lift her in his arms.

  “She’s been sleepier than usual lately,” Mrs. Woodhouse said with a smile. “I think she must be growing.”

  “I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks,” Savannah whispered as they moved toward the door. She remained on the floor watching, even after the door clicked shut.

  Jeremy sat in the chair behind her. “Are you all right, Savannah?”

  “I’m attempting to discover my courage to face Jonas in court.”

  “Your daughter means that much to you?” Jeremy stroked a hand down the side of her neck.

  She saw his selfless concern and also his personal hurt in his eyes. “You do too, Jeremy. But no one’s told me that I’m barred from you unless I divorce him.” She leaned into his touch. “For if they did, I fear I might have done far more than publish articles in a newspaper. I can’t imagine being separated from you.” She whispered into his ear, “Do you think you could love her, Jeremy? I know she’s not yours, but I hope you can.”

  Jeremy joined her on the floor, embracing her. “Put that fear to rest, my sweet Savannah. I’ll have no trouble loving little Hope.” His voice shone with wonder and happiness as he said, “A part of me already does. I’m sorry you’ve thought me indifferent to her, but I haven’t wanted to interrupt the time you have with her by joining you.”

  “Thank you, Jeremy. I don’t know how many times I can manage the separation from her.”

  “The Woodhouses seem like decent people. They want you to be a part of her life, and that’s a start.” He held her closer. “I think they fear losing her as much as you’re eager to recover her.”

  Savannah sighed her agreement, kissed him on his chest and then pushed to rise. He helped her to a standing position and rose with easy grace. “Let’s enjoy this day,” Savannah said as she slipped her arm through his.

  “Will you join me at the workshop for a while?” He opened the door, holding it for her as she walked through it first. “We’ll have to search out food at some point, but I’d love to have you in my shop. We haven’t had time to speak about our place recently.”

  “When will we be able to move in?” Savannah asked, looping her arm through his as they walked down busy streets.

  “Hold that thought,” Jeremy said as he ducked into a baker’s shop. Savannah followed him in and stood behind him, watching him laugh and talk with the owner as he purchased both sweet and savory items. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of rising dough, of bread in the oven, all tinged with a mixture of licorice and chocolate. She sighed as she breathed deeply again.

  “Ciao, Signora Castellini,” Jeremy said as he grasped Savannah’s hand, and they left. “It’s as though all your cares fall away when you enter their shop. Don’t you agree?” Jeremy asked.

  “I’ve never smelled anything so delicious,” Savannah whispered.

  “When we left my aunt’s house, Gabriel said that our visits to the bakery had to end. Somehow he always managed to scrounge together enough money to buy us one treat a week. Eventually he gave one of us the money so that every third week, we had the chance to choose the treat for all of us. That was my favorite day. Knowing I could go into that shop and be surrounded by that glorious food.”

  “And see Mrs. Castellini,” Savannah murmured.

  “Even then she was motherly. The best times were when one of us entered the shop and no one else was there. We’d often linger and act as though we didn’t know what we wanted just to ensure we had the shop to ourselves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’d slip a little something extra in the bag. When she realized the three of us were related, which didn’t take her long as we all look alike and she’s smart, she began to slip in three macaroons.”

  “She sounds like a lovely woman,” Savannah said.

  “She is. She one day apologized, saying they were the previous day’s cookies, but Gabe, Rich and I didn’t care. They were treats. And someone was showing us kindness.” He sighed as he looked at the busy intersection near Haymarket for a way to easily cross the street. “It wasn’t often anyone showed us three orphan boys a kindness.”

  He looked down at her and frowned, raising a hand to stroke her cheek. “Why the tears, darling?”

  “I hate the thought of anyone treating you cruelly. You never deserved it.”

  “I know.” His thumb continued to caress her cheek. “I realized, when I met Florence, no matter how rough I had it, that at least I had Gabe. He protected me from the worst aspects of life. She was left to fend for herself, at about the same age I lost my parents.”

  Savannah lowered her head, breaking eye contact.

  “What is it, darling?”
/>   “I’m continually ashamed at how I abused Florence to Clarissa before I married Jonas. I was awful.”

  “You were fortunate enough to change into the woman you were meant to be. Feel pride, Savannah. I know Florence bears you no ill will.”

  Savannah sniffed and turned to face the intersection, her brow furrowing. “How are we to cross?”

  “I think we need to race to the middle trolley stand and then regroup before we race to the other side. Are you up for it?” he asked with a gleam of delight in his eyes. “Careful with your skirts.”

  “Yes,” Savannah said, giving out a small whoop as Jeremy gripped her hand and they raced first toward the center of the intersection and then to the other side.

  “Oh, that was exhilarating,” Savannah gasped when they stood on the opposite side of the intersection.

  They began the short walk to his workshop. “Returning to your earlier question, the first apartment I’d hoped to rent suffered water damage when there was a fire next door. We were supposed to move in the first part of March, but now that’s impossible.”

  “And I can’t imagine you’d want to live there,” Savannah said. She gripped his arm gently. “Too many memories.”

  “Yes. It was close to where I’d lived with my parents and where we suffered the fire. It would have been difficult to live there.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d hoped to have us in a place by early March so we could celebrate your birthday in our new home.”

  “Jeremy, that doesn’t matter. I don’t particularly like celebrating my birthday.”

  “What was your last birthday like before you had Hope?”

  “Clarissa was still in Boston, but she was never invited to our house. Jonas loved having large parties while I dangled on his arm as though I were some sort of prize. I’d just stand there and nod, smile when something clever was said. Or when the person who said it thought they’d been clever.”