My Sister's Prayer

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Perhaps he hadn’t heard her. “It’s really a shame, all you and your sister have gone through. I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect, at first, that you came from a good family. You’ve had one self-inflicted trial after another—and for what?”

  “Exactly,” she said, brushing by him. He’d been kind to her, true, but she had no patience for his reflections, not at her expense. She was well aware of the situation she’d thrust her entire family into.

  By the time she reached the inn, Emmanuel and George had congregated with a group of sailors around the bench on the other side of the fence. Celeste relayed Spenser’s message and then told them goodbye. “Give Berta a hug.” Tears sprang into her eyes again. “Tell her I love her and hope to see her soon.”

  It was true. She did love her sister. Beyond measure. That was one good thing that had come from their trials. It didn’t matter if Berta had lied about Jonathan or consorted with him. Celeste would stand by her no matter what.

  Emmanuel told her goodbye and George simply nodded to her. She paused a moment and then blurted out to him, “I shouldn’t have treated you so badly, George. The least I could have done was be honest with you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Please forgive me,” she said softly.

  “Celeste…you have no idea how badly you hurt me.”

  Actually she did, but she didn’t say so. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded curtly and then stood when Emmanuel got up to head to the dock. The men walked away together.

  She hadn’t expected George to forgive her, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d come. Obviously, it wasn’t for her.

  That evening, Mr. Edwards and Celeste managed to make savory cheesecakes for dinner with a little direction from Sary. She didn’t speak, but she communicated with gestures and expressions until they got the recipe right. Then Celeste served it to the few patrons in the dining room. Among them was Monsieur Petit, who asked after Berta.

  Celeste explained that their brother Emmanuel had come over from England, much to her surprise, and that he was now on his way to Norfolk to straighten things out with the constable there. The man seemed relieved to hear it, and from the way he talked, she could tell that both he and his wife had grown quite fond of Berta during her convalescence in their home.

  Later, Celeste was in the kitchen when Mr. Edwards appeared.

  “Lieutenant Gray is here to see you,” he said, brows furrowed. “I told him I thought he should stay away, but he insists it’s important.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron, weariness nearly overtaking her. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “He’s in the sitting room. And I’ll wash these up. The water won’t be good on your hands anyway.”

  Celeste thanked him for his kindness and trudged back to the inn. Jonathan was standing at the window when she entered the sitting room. Thankfully, he was alone. He turned quickly. “Celeste. How are you?” He appeared genuinely concerned.

  “All right,” she answered, wondering what he’d heard.

  “Mr. Horn came out to the plantation this morning, ranting about what happened. But I’m guessing it was all an accident. I know you wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.”

  “No. Of course I wouldn’t.”

  Jonathan opened his hand and extended it, revealing the brooch. “Constable Wharton had this. I told him I gave it to you and that he had no right to it.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan.”

  He stepped closer. “Please take it.”

  “Perhaps you should give it to Miss Vines.”

  He winced, but Celeste didn’t apologize. Nor did she take the brooch. He closed his hand around it again.

  She asked if he’d seen Berta.

  He shook his head. “I was told she was with Wharton, but I didn’t see her.”

  Celeste squared her shoulders. “And what about the ring? Did Constable Wharton come to a conclusion about it?”

  “What ring?” Jonathan asked.

  “The one I used to buy Berta’s freedom—the one he accused me of stealing. It was my mother’s—”

  “Goodness, he didn’t ask me about that at all. I could have told him your family has means, that you wouldn’t need to steal such a thing.”

  Celeste sighed, grateful for his words. “When did the constable leave?”

  “Soon after he arrived. I saw him briefly, and we only discussed the brooch.”

  “I appreciate your coming to see me,” Celeste said, “but I need to get back to work.” Or collapse if Mr. Edwards would let her.

  “Please wait a moment. There’s something I need to tell you—and ask you.”

  Her heart lurched at the sadness in his voice. Even after all he’d done to her, she still cared about his well-being.

  “First, I want to apologize again—for everything.” He’s eyes grew watery as he spoke. “I haven’t been sleeping, Celeste. All I can think about is you.”

  She crossed her arms but didn’t respond.

  He blinked a few times, as if trying to rid his eyes of tears. “I sold the carriage. I finally have the cash to buy your freedom.”

  She gasped, her hand going to her throat. Emmanuel didn’t have enough money to buy both Celeste’s and Berta’s contracts, but if Jonathan bought her freedom, then that would solve some of their problems. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I’ve been given orders to go to Carolina, down by Charles Town. This time a land grant has been guaranteed.”

  “Oh, Jonathan, that’s wonderful! Will you marry before you go?”

  “I’ve chosen to go to Carolina rather than remain here. And because of that, I will not be marrying. Unless…”

  Celeste’s heart lurched again.

  “Unless you’ll have me after how horrible I’ve been.”

  Celeste was too shocked to respond. Surely she hadn’t understood what he said. Perhaps she was delirious.

  He stepped closer. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I made a huge mistake not to wait for you. If I had, none of this would have happened. Come with me to Carolina. We’ll start a new life together. I’ll be a landowner again. You’ll be the lady you were meant to be.” He reached for her red, rough hand. Numbly, she let him take it. “I want you with me, Celeste. There’s a Huguenot community there, including a church, where we can marry. I’ll take care of you, I promise. I’ve never regretted anything in my life as much as I have not waiting for you.”

  She tried to speak, but no words came out.

  “Please say yes.” Jonathan’s eyes now swam in tears. “I must leave tomorrow.”

  “Give me tonight,” she managed to say. “I’ll let you know first thing in the morning.”

  He slipped the brooch into her hand. “This is just the first of many gifts. You’ll have far more than the ruby ring Constable Wharton took from you.”

  Celeste closed her hand around the brooch. There was still the matter between them of Berta’s claims. Jonathan had already told her Berta was lying, but she simply had to be sure before things went any further.

  “I talked to Berta about what you said. She insists that you asked her to join you in Virginia.”

  A pained expression passed over his face. “I gave this more thought after I last spoke with you about it. I saw Berta one time, late in the evening along the Thames. I was worried about her being out by herself and escorted her home.”

  Celeste cocked her head.

  “Yes,” Jonathan said. “I hardly gave it a second thought, but I remember she asked quite a few questions of me, including if you and I were still seeing each other. I evaded answering her, not wanting to discuss my relationship with you. Then she said she longed to go to the New World. I simply listened. But looking back, I wonder if she got the wrong impression somehow. Perhaps she’s fanciful enough to have concocted something from that small exchange?” He shrugged. “That’s the only thing that I can think of that would cause her to come up with such a story.”

  Celeste looked
him in the eye. “I honestly don’t know what to believe.”

  Jonathan reached for her hand, the one now clasping the brooch, and held it gently. “Please trust me. Please believe me. Please give me a second chance.”

  She exhaled deeply, the air catching in her chest.

  “I heard about what happened to the cook. About her hand, and about Edwards buying her contract.” Jonathan leaned toward Celeste. “I was thinking I could buy her too.”

  “Buy her?”

  “Free her. As a gift to you. She can come with us. Mr. Edwards said the two of you have become close.”

  Celeste pulled her hand away, trying to think it all through. Jonathan wasn’t Spenser, that was for sure, but he was offering to free Sary.

  “I can speak with Edwards right now,” Jonathan said. “I’ll negotiate for both of you.”

  She could save Berta and Sary if she agreed to marry Jonathan. Yes, she’d been hurt by him, but he did genuinely seem to love her. And she’d be close to a Huguenot church. That was more important to her than she’d realized when she’d agreed to leave London.

  What reason did she have for not accepting his offer? He said he’d acted in fear in agreeing to marry Miss Vines, and now he’d made it right. Celeste had forgiven him—so why not marry him? In another year the last few months would be nothing but a distant memory. All the hurt and pain would be gone. They would have a new start, at last, in this New World. And she wouldn’t be reminded over and over, as she would be if she stayed with her sister, of her failures. In fact, Berta might be better off without Celeste around. And Celeste wouldn’t have to watch Spenser devote himself to Berta. In time, she would forget her love for him.

  “Celeste?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “I was thinking, is all. I don’t need the night to decide.” She lifted her head and gazed into his blue eyes.

  His voice wavered as he asked, “What is your answer?”

  “Yes.” She dropped her arms to her side. “Yes, Jonathan. I’ll marry you.”

  A smile crept over his face, and then he swept her up in a hug, holding her close as he had in London so many times. As they pulled away, Jonathan swiped at his eyes. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Edwards. I’ll buy your contract and pay for Sary too. You have my word.”

  With the Court convening in a few days, and all the extra travelers that would bring to town, Celeste couldn’t imagine Mr. Edwards would be happy about letting her go, but surely he already had plans in the works for finding a new cook.

  Mr. Edwards and Jonathan negotiated in the sitting room while Celeste tackled the remaining dishes in the kitchen, even though the burns on her hands made the task difficult. Sary came down to help her put everything away, using her left hand. Celeste didn’t dare tell her about Jonathan’s plans lest she raise false hopes.

  When they were finished, Mr. Edwards hadn’t yet returned to the kitchen, so Celeste followed Sary up the ladder, where they both collapsed on their pallets without speaking. As exhausted as she was, Celeste couldn’t fall asleep. She went over and over what Jonathan had said to her. He loved her.

  She couldn’t help but remember their passion in London when they were together, the intense longing she’d felt for him. She hadn’t felt that tonight, not even an inkling of it when he held her. But she was exhausted. Surely, in time, those feelings would return.

  She rolled toward the window, focusing on the shimmering stars against the black sky that she could make out through the warped glass, and fell into a fitful sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Maddee

  The day after my conversation about her accident with the less-than-honest Nicole, I talked to Debra about the situation, and she helped me put it into perspective. She reminded me of various psychological studies that showed how lying could become habitual in a person, to a point where it was second nature. “This is something that can be changed,” she said. “She may not even necessarily be trying to deceive you about the accident. She’s just doing what she always does, giving out half-truths and making omissions and generally obscuring reality through force of habit.”

  I had a feeling she was right. And though that didn’t excuse my sister’s behavior, at least it helped calm me down enough to let it go for now. As long as her chronic lying could be successfully treated with therapy, there was hope.

  That night, I had just finished locking up my bike and helmet when Greg appeared in the doorway of the carriage house, a broad grin on his face.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “We have a surprise for you. Are you ready?”

  Before I could even respond, he swung the door open wide and stepped back to reveal Nicole, standing with the aid of a walker a few feet away, a smile on her face—and no casts on her legs.

  “What?”

  I guess that was the reaction she wanted, because she squealed and laughed in return. Then she explained how Dr. Hill’s office had called this morning and said they’d had a cancellation and she could get her casts off a few days early. Wanting to surprise me, Nicole hadn’t contacted me to let me know but instead had simply asked Inez to take her there, and that was that. Her bad leg, the one she’d had surgery on, was now in a canvas boot, but it ended below the knee.

  As she spoke, she inched her way over to the wheelchair, Greg hovering nearby, and gingerly lowered herself into it. Judging by her movements, she wouldn’t be running sprints anytime soon, but this was still a vast improvement. Now that the casts were gone, no longer would she be held prisoner by those two huge, obtrusive, pain-in-the-neck orange and yellow Popsicles.

  Thinking of them made me think of Austin. I put down my stuff, crossed to the table, and flipped around one of the chairs so I could sit. Something was niggling at the back of my mind, something disturbing that I couldn’t quite articulate.

  “Explain this to me again,” I said, checking out her legs more closely. “What happened to wearing the casts for nine or ten weeks?”

  She shrugged. “Dr. Hill said it wouldn’t hurt anything to take them off a few days early.”

  “Five days,” I corrected. “Five days early. Today is Friday. They weren’t supposed to come off till next Wednesday at the very soonest.”

  She shook her head, impatient for me to get with the program and just be happy for her. “Whatever. He was sweet and really careful, and once the casts were off he examined my legs and said they both looked great. I still have a ways to go, of course, and I’ll probably be in this boot for a while, but otherwise it’s all good.”

  I swallowed hard, hoping against hope that this was a coincidence, that her premature cast removal had nothing to do with me. I looked to Greg and asked if he concurred with Dr. Hill on the timing. “I mean,” I added, “I’d hate to think he acted prematurely just because of a scheduling matter.”

  Or, more importantly, to free up his new girlfriend’s dating roster.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Greg said. He went on to explain about variations in the healing process and the pros and cons of limiting immobilization and so on, and though I had trouble paying attention to everything he was saying, I told myself he was the expert here, not I. If he wasn’t worried about it, then I wouldn’t worry either. Austin Hill was one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the country. It was ridiculous for me to think he might somehow endanger the health of a patient just to make it easier to date her sister.

  I gave Nicole the smile and hug she’d been waiting for and said we should celebrate.

  “One step ahead of you, sis,” she replied. “Pizza for three will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Once I decided to go with things the way they were, it didn’t take long to become genuinely excited about this momentous change. Tiny as Nicole was, with the added weight and awkwardness of her casts, shifting her around had been exhausting.

  As the two of them finished their session, I ran upstairs to change into my favorite sweatpants and an old but extremely comfortable flannel shirt. This was my secret o
nly-when-I’m-home-alone outfit, but somehow it seemed fitting for tonight. I decided to take this as a sign of growth, that perhaps my antiperfectionist plan had begun to work well enough that I was now willing to look this way in front of others.

  Back downstairs, the pizza arrived, we ended up having a wonderfully fun evening together. I was happy to see that Greg fit right in, laughing and talking and cracking us up with stories about his family. Between a hyperorganized mother, an absentminded professor father, and four rambunctious, practical joke-loving brothers, what he described sounded like one long, happy, rollicking childhood. As he talked, I found myself wondering how many children, if any, he hoped to have someday. With four siblings, chances were he would like a big family too.

  Before leaving, he took a few minutes first to explain to me what this change would mean as far as Nicole’s therapy and how they would be proceeding from here. Starting on Monday, he said, she would no longer need in-home visits but instead would come to his office during the days so that they could work in the gym there and take advantage of all the equipment. Though I was happy for her, the thought made me sad. Coming home to find Greg here three nights a week had grown into a very pleasant habit, one I now realized I was going to miss.

  “How can I stay in the loop?” I asked, thinking of how helpful it had been to observe part of their sessions and talk afterward.

  “You have my number, right? As long as Nicole leaves her release on file, I can continue to discuss her case with you whenever you want.” He asked for pen and paper, and then he jotted down his schedule, marking the times during the week when he would most likely be free to talk. “Really and truly, don’t hesitate to call,” he said, sliding the cap back on the pen and handing it and the paper over to me. “Any questions, concerns, clarifications, whatever. I’m your man.”

  “Thank you, Greg,” I said, and then I impulsively gave him a hug. He’d been such a blessing to both of us.

  Later, in bed, I thought of him again and what a wonderful boyfriend he would make for Nicole. I still felt strongly that she wasn’t ready for a relationship and wouldn’t be for a long while, but when that time eventually came, if he were still available, they really should give it a try.