Broken Angel
Page 37
The corners of her lips began to tremble, and Rachel knew the barrier would hold only a fraction longer. “Papa—”
“No, Angel. Don’t speak. Don’t say another word until you’ve heard what I have to say.”
Rachel steeled herself to hold his pain-filled gaze, her fingers tightening their hold of his hand.
“Your mamma wanted me to let you come home, but I wouldn’t listen to her. I still couldn’t see what you were capable of and so I pushed you too hard. All because I was afraid. I didn’t trust you, or God.” His voice broke, but his eyes didn’t stray from hers. “I’ve been a fool, Angel, and you’re the only one who’s suffered. I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am because there hasn’t been a word invented that describes what I feel.”
Rachel dropped her gaze, the tears burning down her cheeks.
“Robert said you didn’t hate me, but I just couldn’t force myself to believe it until—Angel, please forgive this stubborn old man.”
She fell against him, wrapping him up tight in her arms. “I forgive you, Papa.”
His arms surrounded her, echoing her sobs of regret and relief. For the moment, it did not matter should he have one day, one week, or one year more on Earth. In that instant, they were transported to a time and place before life’s challenges led them astray.
Epilogue
The Final Verse
Robert viewed himself in the full length mirror before leaving the room to hurry downstairs. He wished he could have met Rachel outside her room, but unfortunately, the guests awaited his presence. Rachel would make an entrance of her own.
He entered the salon where the guests had gathered and wished them all fond welcomes, one by one accepting their congratulations and affirmations of their presence at the wedding. Then the crowd hushed and Robert turned, following the attentions as they gathered at the entrance of the large salon. His breath caught in his throat at the vision of loveliness who stood there. Dressed in a velvet gown of dark burgundy, a string of pearls glistened at the silky paleness of her neck. Ivory, arm-length gloves set off the color of her gown just as the pearls arranged in her hair twinkled with the candlelight, mirroring the brightness in her eyes.
Their gaze met and held, one side of her lips caressed with a smile as he shortened the distance to her with long strides. He gathered her hands and brushed a kiss upon each wrist. “You are radiance itself, Rachel.” A youthfulness glowed around her, and he sent a prayer of thankfulness heavenward for the improving health of her father.
She smiled and gracefully opened her ever present fan as she took his arm. “Just as you are the epitome of elegance, Robert.”
“Ah,” he said. “I see we are back to the land of prim and proper.” Her eyebrow arched briefly upward. “Very well, Miss Samson,” he said in a soft voice as he bent close to her. “I shall be etiquette itself.” A ghost of a smile lingered on her lips and Robert felt her fingers squeeze his arm. “But only because you wish it,” he added.
The gathering shifted from salon to ballroom as the velvet tones of the small chamber orchestra filled the rooms of the Samson estate. Robert guided her to the ballroom, eager for the privacy of a turn around the dance floor to whisper words best shared in more intimate surroundings.
After the second waltz, Rachel had not yet spoken. “You’re very quiet, Ange.”
Her fingers tightened briefly within his hold as her eyes flicked toward his. “I suppose the fact I am to be married at the end of the month is beginning to become a reality in my mind. It is a trifle overwhelming.”
“Understandable. You have been on your own a long time.” He led her from the dance floor to one of the many tables of delicacies and beverages. He served her a small cup of punch. “It seems a dream to me, as well.”
She accepted his offering, teasing the rim with rose lips that begged for a kiss—Rob. No.
“Am I ready?” Rachel met his gaze. “In my mind, my qualifications still feel lacking.”
The urge to pull her into a comforting embrace took hold of him with such ferocity that he was barely able to control it. Instead, he sent her an understanding smile and clasped her hand. “We will learn together.”
Their eyes held until Robert forced himself to look away. He offered her his arm, which she accepted, and led her toward the extensive gardens beyond the ballroom. The crisp night air felt refreshing, and he even heard Rachel breathe deep of the blossom-infused breeze. The gentle laugh of the creek and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and bushes comforted them both.
Rachel paused by a lilac bush and held the blossoms to her nose, breathing deep.
“Is there something else bothering you, Rachel?”
She shook her head, eyes opening with slow deliberation upon the collection of small blooms. “I am eager to attend the children’s Announcement Garden Party tomorrow. I am content with following the demands placed upon me by the Board to prepare for my role with the business. I am thankful for another day with my father. I am… at peace,” she whispered.
“I am glad.” He drew her close, pressing a kiss upon the crown of her head. “Miss Samson, you are to be my wife.” He could hardly absorb the fact.
She rested into the curve of him and released a long caress of a breath. “Mr. Trent, you are to be my husband.”
And he felt certain that, somewhere, a chorus of angels sang “Hallelujah!”
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About the Author | Nona King
Writing has been Nona King’s passion since childhood. She began writing young adult novels as a teen, graduating to inspirational and suspense romances in college. She also wrote and co-directed full-length plays for her home church, Canby New Life Foursquare.
In 2006, Nona moved to Washington State from her home in Oregon and married Michael King, a fellow writer, and continues to pursue a career in writing as an independent writing and editing professional for Angel Breath Books. She specializes in novels of romance and adventure. All the novels focus on faith, honor, respect, and the importance of communication in our relationships.
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