Broken Angel

by Nona Mae King

  It was as if…

  “Rachel?” Maggie pressed, voice gentle.

  Presenting Maggie the journal, Rachel could only continue to stare at the quilted comforter.

  Maggie accepted the leather book, examining Rachel’s expression a moment longer before looking down and giving a soft gasp. “Lord have mercy! Mr. Trent was your betrothed?” Maggie’s eyes quickly focused on Rachel’s face. “Rachel…”

  “He confessed the truth last night,” Rachel informed, tone still as coolly calm as it had been last night. “Before I read that entry.”

  “Oh…” Maggie looked again to the journal. “What did you say?”

  “I forgave him his secret.”

  And the forgiveness had loosed a hardness in her soul. Even now the thought of that action of forgiveness brought a surprising lump to her throat. The voicing of it had taken strength and extreme effort, and afterward had come a different type of… peace and… comfort. Different than all the surety and arrogance she had grown accustomed to during her training. Rachel didn’t understand the change. She only knew that when she had seen the resignation in his expression moments before his confession, a portion of her had thirsted to relieve him of the torture that came with his dedication to honesty and truthfulness.

  Then, when she had offered him this relief, he had whispered her name in such a tender way, holding her so close… She had felt different. Changed. How else to describe it than that?

  Rachel slowly looked to Maggie, and she could feel a mild and numb emotion of confusion as she repeated “I forgave him, Maggie. He misled me into believing him to be naught but an understanding stranger determined to stand as my champion, yet I forgave him. I accepted his confession, believed his reasoning as the truth, and forgave him his deception. Why? Why would I offer him more than what I offer myself? More than what I offer my own father?”

  Maggie released a soft breath and reached out to gently clasp Rachel’s hand. “Rach, you’ve always had a heart to forgive people. To give others that second and third chance to be the best they could be. That’s why you and Toddy grew so close, though he was seen as a trouble-maker at the orphanage. You didn’t judge him on those mistakes he made. When he was sorry, you let him be sorry and moved on. It’s no different here. Not when Mr. Trent’s tried so hard to show you he can be trusted.”

  “I haven’t been that girl in eight years, Mags,” Rachel pressed a little roughly, brows lowering in a frown. “How can I remember a heart that has since shriveled and turned to stone?”

  “Because God and Mr. Trent are giving you reason to remember. They’re giving you a safe haven to be who you’ve always been: a loving and accepting woman.”

  Rachel lowered her gaze to her ring, remembering an inscription and a second. Remembering an exchange on the train. Remembering a whispered assurance… She took in a rough breath and covered her eyes with a hand. “I’m afraid of that woman, Mags,” she confessed unevenly. “Afraid that she will lead me to another heartbreak. Another exile. Another pain of being not enough.”

  “To those who love you, Rach, you will never be ‘not enough’.”

  Rachel choked on a sob and drew her friend close, tightly shutting her eyes against the tears. “How I want to believe you, Mags,” she whispered. “How I want to believe you.”

  Maggie pushed gently back, holding Rachel by the arms as she held her gaze. “Then do it. You’ve always been able to trust me, Rach, so do it again. I’ve forever loved you as a sister I never had. A ‘thick-and-thin’ friend that did their best to understand me. Now let me do that for you. You’ve no need to go through this by yourself, Rach. So don’t.”

  Rachel absently nodded as she lowered her gaze, giving Maggie’s arms a firm squeeze before pushing back more. “I will try, Mags, but habits such as these are hard to break.”

  “I know it, and that’s why I’ll keep at you until I see the Rach I remember all the time, and not just once in a bit.”

  Rachel reluctantly smiled, again focusing on her friend. “Thank you, Mags. I so appreciate your loyalty.”

  Maggie smiled, green eyes glimmering as she drew Rachel into another hug and pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. “You’ve got more than my loyalty, Rach. I love you.”

  Love. A second confession from another soul allowed into a portion of Rachel’s life so often tenaciously protected. Yet Maggie had never done anything to purposefully abuse that trust. Always being honest and supportive. Even a little harsh in her honesty to make Rachel see a necessary truth.

  Rachel tightened her arms around her friend and whispered, “I love you, too, Mags.” And what a relief to be able to admit the emotion and know that it would be guarded and cherished.

  Bestowing another kiss to Rachel’s moist cheek, Maggie pulled back and gripped Rachel’s hands. “Come along then, Rach. We’ve a busy day ahead of us, and I’ve a new gown for you as well as a new hair style I’ve been wanting to try.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Do tell. I feel as if I’ve become one of your dress-up dolls, Mags.”

  “Oh pish-posh,” Maggie chided, drawing Rachel from the large bed. “You have as much fun as I do, even for all your complaining and calling me a fuss-pot.”

  Rachel laughed, allowing Maggie to lead her to the gown hanging alone and somewhat miserable in the bare closet. Gorgeous jade green highlighted and enhanced by an entwining of sunshine yellow, the line was simple and elegant with lace and chiffon that heightened the femininity of the cut while not detracting from functional movement. Silk ribbon embroidered flowers had been carefully stitched along the hem of the gown with a bouquet of more detailed and dramatic flowers on the left front.

  Rachel smiled. “It’s lovely, Mags. Your best yet.” She looked over at her childhood friend. “This is all you were able to wrangle within the valise upon our quick departure?”

  Maggie smiled while retrieving the dress. “Yes. We’ll have plenty others to choose from once we arrive at Mr. Trent’s in Charlottesville. Now, come along and quit dawdling.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  Maggie protested, but her eyes twinkled just the same.

  Gown and hair had only just been completed in the new style when there sounded a polite and soft knock on the door followed by a muffled “Miss Samson? Miss Kelley?” in Robert’s recognizable and attractive baritone.

  “One moment, Mr. Trent,” Maggie called, testing again the security of Rachel’s hair, each curl tucked safely within her massive ‘bun’ upon the crown of her head, giving an even more extreme air of sophistication and maturity. “Wonderful,” she breathed. Then she gave Rachel’s upper arms a squeeze, sent her a small smile in her reflection within the mirror, and winked. “He’ll love it.”

  Rachel smirked. “I don’t believe he notices, though it’s lovely. He seems to only comment on my eyes.”

  Maggie’s smile twitched. “Why do you think I pick the gowns I do? They enhance your eyes. They really are quite gorgeous.”

  Rachel softly flushed as she stood and made her way toward the front entry of her room, gathering her fan from the foot of her bed as she went. “Thank you, Maggie. I’m sure the blush is at just the shade you wanted.”

  Laughing, Maggie waved it aside and set to work gathering the discarded articles to pack them away.

  Before opening the door, Rachel took in a deep and slow breath to quiet the expectations and eagerness that rose like a swell of the ocean. Then she slightly tilted her chin and opened the door, offering Robert’s attractive persona a calm smile. “Mr. Trent,” she greeted, remembering a collection of kisses exchanged while standing in their same positions. An exhilarating risk. An addicting trespass beyond what society viewed as acceptable and proper. “Did you sleep well?”

  Robert leaned against the doorframe, smile very slight and flirtatious as he simply stared down at her without touching hand, face, or arm. Instead, his eyes traveled her face to linger on her lips. “I slept incredibly well,” he finally said once his eyes of brown again met hers o
f green. “Yourself?”

  “Well enough.”

  His smile twitched, warning of his intent before he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the left cheek. Once he straightened, he gave her a wink.

  Rachel smirked, ignoring the twitter within at his continued wooing and flirtation, and stepped back enough to gauge Maggie’s progress. “Maggie?”

  “One moment and then we can go,” she informed, carefully tucking the traveling habit within the valise.

  Nodding, Rachel focused again on Robert, who still regarded her with the same boyish smirk. “One moment, and then we can go,” she repeated, lips twitching.

  “One moment spent in the presence of my Ange will seem a lifetime,” he said softly, the French seeping within to cause a multitude of emotions and feelings that Rachel had never before experienced.

  Rachel lowered her gaze to her fan. “Beware, monsieur, this angel is not as ethereal as you would believe.”

  “So much so the better for this mortal. Then I won’t fear she might leave, escaping to a safer place.”

  At that, Rachel lifted her eyes to meet his. “Where could I be safer than with the champion dedicated to protecting my haven?” she whispered.

  Robert’s expression changed at that, softening to a hint of pained compassion and care as he reached out to caress her cheek with the back of a single finger. “Ange…”

  Then Maggie’s steps were heard to approach and Robert’s touch retreated, his gaze holding hers as he straightened and moved slightly back from her. Rachel had never been so moved and entranced as by his intensity and care for her, his extreme feelings burning bright in his brown eyes.

  Yet he fought against them. For her.

  Rachel lowered her gaze, hand tightening on the fan moments before she took in a deep breath and focused on Maggie’s smiling face. She forced a small return. “Shall we?”

  Maggie nodded and then followed the two out of the room and down the hall. “I’ve only secured the room three days, until Monday. Will we be needing more time Mr. Trent?”

  “I highly doubt my brow-beating will take more time than that, Maggie. If so, then I think it best you and Rachel go on ahead to Boston. I wouldn’t want our guests for the Announcement Party to have no hostess save that of Mr. Samson.”

  Rachel smirked.

  “Oh, which reminds me, we haven’t made a decision whether or not to begin a luncheon earlier for the children.” Robert focused his boyish smile on Rachel. “Could we schedule a retrieval and escort them to your home ourselves? I believe it would be easier on the administration to not be required to arrange transportation.”

  “Something might be arranged.” Rachel looked to Maggie. “Maggie, when you have a moment, could you send Louisa a telegram and have her begin preparations and arrangements for an appropriate menu for the children. I believe there will be 14 in attendance and we should have it scheduled for no later than eleven.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel focused again on Robert, cheeks flaming when she noticed he hadn’t yet shifted his attention from her. “Once you contact the administrator, have them inform the children they must be ready by half-past nine. That way we will have plenty of time for dawdlers and excitement-filled distractions.”

  Robert’s lips twitched. “Perfectly splendid idea, Miss Samson.” They approached the stairs leading to the main lobby of the hotel and Robert’s smirk fully blossomed. “I believe it my duty to warn you that Damon is… well…. We’ve always shared a unique relationship,” he admitted as they began their descent, Robert steadying Rachel with a light touch to her elbow. “A bit of an open dialogue policy, I suppose would be the best way to describe said relationship.”

  Maggie cast Rachel a sidelong glance, her expression seemingly saying ‘We know about those, don’t we?’

  “Open dialogue policy,” Rachel repeated, intrigued. “To be quite frank, it sounds as if he is just the friend you have need of.”

  “Due to the fact we seem to share the same policy?” he posed, eyes twinkling.

  Rachel focused ahead. “Something of the sort, yes.”

  Chuckling, Robert gave her back a single stroke. “Yes, well, I must say I’ve become addicted to these types of relationships. It’s a challenge, and I’ve never been one to turn away from those, no matter the difficulty--”

  “Rob!”

  Robert smiled wide, lifting a hand to a dark haired and healthily tanned gentleman who approached. “Damon!”

  The bright greeting of the handsome stranger teased her eyebrow upward. She exchanged stealthy glances with Maggie, who widened her eyes as if to say ‘What a handsome devil he is.’ The two men exchanged a firm embrace, giving each other several robust pats on the back before pushing back. They grinned at each other. Rachel watched the exchange with the hint of a smile.

  Damon Childers did not stand as tall as Robert, likely only measuring a gracious 6 feet rather than the imposing 6 feet 3 of his friend. Damon’s also seemed more muscular than lithe, thereby hinting at a love for those more vigorous sports such as the controversial ‘football’. Similar though to Robert, Damon had the ‘romantic’ dark hair - his being a dark and curly brown rather than Robert’s straight black - and the much-written of ‘sun-kissed’ complexion. Together, the two seemed a mischievous and troublesome pair of dashing and handsome flirtation.

  “Congratulations, old man,” his friend voiced, his tone not baritone and yet not truly tenor either. It seemed to hover around the boundary, being romantically deep and yet mischievously high at the same time.

  “I read the engagement announcement in the morning paper,” Damon continued, immediately producing a folded up paper from the inside pocket of his suit-coat. “Here I thought you had been a fool and called off the betrothal - that letter you sent asking me to be Best Man gave me a shock - and then I woke this morning to find this: ‘Mr. Robert Leonard Trent of Charlottesville and Miss Rachel Byron Samson of Boston, Massachusetts, announce their engagement.’ Gads. What a shock. Though I find it odd they said ‘engagement’ rather than simply announcing the pre-existent betrothal.” Damon shrugged and then looked up to present the article, smile again brimming with mischief and flirtatious trouble. “Consider me RSVPing.”

  Robert smirked, giving his friend a firm but playful punch on the arm. Then he motioned to Maggie and Rachel. “Damon, this is the aforementioned Rachel Byron Samson, my intended, and the charmer beside her is her friend and Maid of Honor Margaret Kelley. Rachel. Maggie. Meet Damon Childers, Best Man, Best Friend, and ne’er-do-well.”

  Rachel offered forward her gloved hand as well. “Mr. Childers.”

  Damon took her hand in a warm, friendly grip as he smiled back at her. “Miss Samson, an honor.” Damon switched the focus of his storm-blue gaze to Robert. “Rob, doesn’t she seem a little familiar to you?”

  Robert smoothly parted Rachel’s hand from his friend’s. “Yes, now behave yourself and pay equal attention to Maggie.” He gave Rachel’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, causing a smirk from both Damon and Rachel.

  “Of course, Rob. No need to get defensive.” Damon presented a charming smile toward Maggie along with his hand. “Miss Kelley.”

  Maggie curtseyed, a knowing smile blossoming on her lips and in her eyes as she briefly accepted his hand. “Mr. Childers.” Then she pulled her hand from his resistive grip and focused on Rachel and Robert, intercepting their laughing expressions. “I had best go see about the trunk and that telegram.” Then she curtseyed again to Damon and exited the hotel.

  Damon stared after her. “I didn’t think I was rude enough to warrant a simple curtsey.” He focused on Robert, expression serious. “She barely paid me any mind at all, and wasn’t I nice?”

  Rachel fought back the wider smirk and simply remained silent, hiding what little smile she allowed behind the softly pulsing rhythm of her fan.

  “You were too nice, Damon. She saw right through your facade and knew you were doing your best t
o flirt and paint a less than true picture of your charm.”

  Damon gaped. “Here, here, old man. That wasn’t at all true, and for you to say so in front of Miss Samson! I protest!”

  Robert laughed. “She likely reasoned it for herself; she’s quite the talent with reading a person’s character.”

  Smirking, Damon focused on Rachel. “Are you now?”

  Robert’s smile faded and he pushed at Damon’s shoulder. “No plots, Damon. You wouldn’t survive her return.” Before Damon could respond, Robert motioned outside. “Let’s for the carriage. I want to have a bit of breakfast before traveling to the dragon’s cave.”

  “What of Miss Kelley,” Damon protested. “Certainly you wouldn’t begrudge me her charming company after having just met?”

  “Maggie has things to do that are more important than fending off your pompous attentions.”

  Again, Damon gaped. “Rob, you keep on and I’ll tell your dear Miss Samson a few of your less-than-glorious moments.”

  “She’s experienced a few of them already.” Robert turned to offer Rachel his arm, his smile softening. “Miss Samson?”

  Rachel’s lips twitched as she accepted his arm and then followed beside him toward the exit of the large hotel.

  Damon walked along on her other side. “You haven’t yet told me why she seems so familiar,” he reminded.

  Rachel shot Robert a glance, and his twinkling eyes were there to intercept it as he said “Due to the fact she’s a lovely mouth and voice of her own. Ask, and I’m sure she’ll oblige with the telling.” Then he focused again on his friend. “You’re only asking me to see if she’s a giggler. Pushing buttons… You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “I would never,” Damon protested, eyes wide as he focused on Robert. “That would be rude.”

  Robert laughed loudly, reaching behind Rachel to give his friend a shove. Rachel smirked, hiding it with a deft movement of her fan. She didn’t mind being essentially ignored by his friend. In fact, she had come to see it as Damon’s way of determining her character so that he would know how best to interact with her. She had a feeling that he had a talent with people. Whether or not that meant manipulating them into a specific viewing of himself Rachel hadn’t reasoned yet. She had only an instinctual… ‘like’ toward this man--this friend of Robert.