“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Only when touched.” He grimaced.
“I didn’t know if you would be waiting for me tonight since you haven’t come the last few nights.”
“I wanted to come, but I didn’t know if I should. Our last moments together were…well, not exactly pleasant. I figured you didn’t want to see me again.”
“I did want to see you, but I felt as though you didn’t because of what happened.”
“I didn’t know how to react that night. Every word I said, or thought to say, felt wrong and you seemed to ignore my every concern. You stood in the forest, covered in blood, with a dead woman at your feet, and expected me to act as though nothing was wrong.”
“I know I did, and I’m sorry for ever expecting your reaction to be calm.”
Although he sat in front of me, there was distance between us. The same distance that plagued Thomas and me, and the same distance that stuck me with fear. I sat next to him, and out of the corner of my eye, saw him glancing at me. His expression said he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what words to choose.
“Was your father angry with you after this afternoon?” I finally asked.
“Not after Charlie and I explained the situation. Andrew, Charlie’s father, is furious, though. He believes we should take action, but that would only deepen the wound.”
“William, I’m sor—”
“Don’t apologize. You have no reason or obligation to say anything at all.”
“Do you believe Duncan lied about the supplies?”
“Yes. Duncan and Thomas have accused my family of selling rotten vegetables and meat before in order to gain free supplies. Usually, my father returns their money.”
“But if they are lying, why should he return their money?”
“To stay out of a fight, unlike how things turned out this afternoon in town.” He rose and strode a few steps away from me. “I should’ve walked away from them, should’ve listened to Charlie when we walked around the corner of the café. He saw them, and I only saw you.” He buried his face in his hands.
“You’re not at fault for this afternoon. Thomas and Duncan shouldn’t have done what they did. They acted in a deplorable manner.”
He turned and met me with an intensity in his face that scared me. “To you, they acted in a deplorable manner, but to everyone in this town they acted justly. If a policeman had come across our fight, he would’ve arrested Charlie and me, not Thomas and Duncan. And, if a passerby had seen us, we would’ve been at fault.”
“I don’t believe everyone would—”
“You don’t live in the world of judgment that I live in.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are the daughter of Nathanial Monroe. You don’t have to face the cruel harshness my people face at the hands of the white men in this town.” His chest was heaving as he spoke—his words evoked a fury unseen in him before.
“Excuse me, William, but I risk my life saving people from such a world you claim I don’t understand. Don’t think, for one moment, that I don’t empathize with the judgment you face.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say you don’t understand.” He hung his head. “When I saw you, I wanted to speak to you, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t even look at you without having to face a repercussion. After this afternoon, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the questions plaguing me, questions regarding our situation, and us. I spoke to my mother and she is concerned.”
“What are her concerns?”
“She wants her son to be happy, but—”
“But we are happy, or at least we could be happy.”
“I’m having difficulty figuring what place in your life I fall into,” he said with a flicker of distance in his eyes.
Clutching my throat, my heart began to pound, and I gasped for the little breaths I could manage. Moments ago, I made the choice to not live without William in my life, and now the stomach-twisting, ill feeling that no matter that choice, I faced a conclusion that terrified me more than anything in the world—losing him. His words were the same words I never wanted to hear coming from his lips.
“I don’t understand why you would question—”
“If you honestly described your life in just a few words, how would you?”
I gaped at him, fighting the honesty waiting on the tip of my tongue, the awful taste—bitter and spoiled, like rotten meat left out to mold.
“Town gossip, family secrets, behind-closed-door business deals, and masked facades.” His shattered expression made me instantly scold myself for my honesty. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why? Were you honest?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then they should be the words you use.”
“But, they describe a world in which I don’t wish to belong, William. I have long since accepted my family for the individuals they are, and the differences between us. I don’t wish to live their lives as they do. I never have.”
“And how do you plan on leaving that world?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know.”
“You don’t know or you really didn’t plan on leaving it? You speak as though you don’t wish to live their lives, but such is all you have lived your whole life and chose to continue.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“If we hadn’t met, would you have allowed Mr. Ludlow’s affections?”
My lip throbbed in pain as my teeth bit down a little too hard. William stared at me with his arms crossed and waited for the difficult answer that I didn’t want to bestow upon myself, much less on him.
“I only would’ve out of obligation, not because I loved him,” I finally admitted.
His silence crushed my spirit, the essence in the profound meaning behind soundless lips closed in all around, taunting and suffocating. I stepped toward him with my arms outstretched and he stepped away from me. A part of me died in that very moment, seeing his expression, feeling his disappointment and pain.
“I don’t belong in your world. And you don’t belong in mine,” he whispered.
Tears welled in my eyes and tracked down my cheeks. “I can’t live a life without you in it. Our first night together, you spoke of choice and said that how I lived my life was my choice. You are the one whom I have chosen.”
“Chosen for what, Alexandra? To live your life as we have, meeting in the middle of the night in secret? I’m truly beginning to doubt my advice to you. Perhaps you don’t have a choice. Perhaps you should—” He bit his lip, silencing his thought before he spoke it. “Perhaps your parents hold the power over—”
“Power over my life,” I snapped, interrupting him.
He shrugged with an infuriating indifference. “Every thought I’ve said tonight, you’ve had yourself. Don’t pretend you haven’t doubted us.”
“Are you acting this way because of what happened this afternoon?” I asked.
“What happened this afternoon is the world we live in and how our lives will be lived. We’ll never stroll down the street, hand in hand. We’ll never—”
“I don’t care.” My voice cracked.
“Are you certain of that? A month from now, or perhaps a few weeks, when you have been invited to a party or picnic—”
“If you perceive me as the foolish girl who would hold regret for missing an imprudent party or a ridiculous picnic because of you, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Perhaps, I have been foolish, foolish for riding off on a horse in the middle of the night with you, and for enjoying your company.”
My anger nearly paralyzed me, holding me with unbreakable binds. His charisma infected my soul, it dug down deep into my core, grasping on to me as I held it tight. Living without him would crush me, never seein
g or speaking to him again was unimaginable, and yet, an ugly, sad reminder of a reality I now faced. To be ripped from him would rip a part of me from myself.
“And, what will happen when you marry Thomas? Would I then become your gentleman courtesan?”
“How dare you,” I shouted, turning to face him “How dare you accuse me of such a vulgar…I’d never do such a distasteful—”
He rushed to my side, and a pair of warm arms wrapped around me. Fighting them at first, they soon claimed victory over my anger. We stood in silence, listening to the sounds of the night breeze blowing through the leaves on the forest trees. Owls called to one another as they hunted for a midnight snack, and Essiyetv ripped the grass with his teeth, blissfully unaware of the sadness around him. How I envied him. Tears dripped from my face, falling upon the smooth, caramel skin of William’s arm, glistening in the moonlight.
“Alexandra, I am sorry. I never should’ve said what I did.”
“What is wrong with you tonight?” I asked, pulling away from his arms.
He inhaled deeply, letting his breath out slowly as if biding time so he didn’t have to answer my question. “My parents wish for my happiness. They’re supportive of my choice, but they’re concerned for our family, for our village, and for our way of life. A few members of my family’s tribal clan have been rather vocal to the elders with their opinions regarding our time together. Knowing your parents’ reputation and knowing of your impending engagement to Thomas puts my family at risk.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He sighed, and fetched the reins from Essiyetv’s neck. “I should go.”
The conversation couldn’t end like this, not before we said all that we needed to say to each other, not before we resolved the problem we face, and not before I could reassure my faith that I would see him again.
“I don’t believe we are finished,” I said.
“We have nothing left to say.” He climbed onto Essiyetv, and gazed down upon me.
His words didn’t make sense to me. He didn’t care, though. Obviously, he was finished and was leaving. Perhaps such was his plan all along. Perhaps he visited tonight to tell me good-bye, forever.
“William, if you desire to end our time together, you could simply tell me.”
He ignored me. His eyes studied the ground, a sign that stabbed my heart and left my soul gasping for breath. My blood grew cold. His once loving face was gone. The happy, intrigued William who waved off my concerns and told me he would be waiting for me, no matter what I said, had vanished. The wild smirk and seducing eyes that told me of his parents love for another had faded and the warmness in the brown hue had turned into a dead sea of black. All color and gleam gone, replaced with a distance that had grown longer, and cold that had grown colder. He had nothing to offer me.
“Do you think we should stop spending time together?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps we should.”
Chapter 13
The shadows in the window changed from the dull, dark gray sky, illuminating my bedroom walls with shades of pink and purple. Another beautiful Alabama sunrise, the dawn of a new day from which I wished to hide.
Thoughts of a life with William, of days and nights spent in his company enjoying a simplicity that once stirred my blood, were fading. Lying in bed this morning, all I had envisioned was no more than distant memories.
Replaying my last conversation with him over and over again in my head did little to comfort, but the addiction to remember something distinctive in William’s words controlled me. A punishing control, and yet, perhaps at least a small window into his thoughts, and the only passion keeping me from drowning from the notion that the turn of events caused him to doubt us enough that he would end our courtship.
Please, Lord. Tell me he will not end this.
To entertain a life lived without William’s dark caramel skin, warm brown eyes, and loving arms would be an unbearable hell I didn’t want to face. Who would? Who would wish such fate upon themselves?
Sarah once told me the memories of love are worth the pain of losing it. When I was young, I believed her. It had been easy without knowing the power behind the emotions of love, or seeing the face and feeling the touch of the one that I desired. How could I? Not only was I young and naive, but one wouldn’t know how love felt without ever having felt it, or worse, without hovering over the verge of losing it.
I now doubted her validity. If I lost William, I wanted to lose my memories of him, too. Seeing his face every time I closed my eyes, dreaming of him every time I laid my head down upon my pillow, remembering the stroke of his touch, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his arms, or the sensation of his lips, all would be an unimaginable pain. Perhaps wanting to erase William from my mind was wrong. Certainly, they were thoughts I didn’t desire, yet thoughts I embraced. The point was easy: erasing him, should he choose to let me go, erased the pain.
If I lost him, I wanted to forget he ever existed.
Could I even do that?
The grandfather clock chimed in the hallway, the deep bong announcing that another early morning hour passed. The sun now higher in the sky, replaced the pink and purple light through my window with bright yellow. Where was William at this moment? Would he be out making deliveries, in town walking the streets of Montgomery, or in his village enjoying breakfast with his family? Was he thinking about me, as I was of him, or trying to evade his thoughts and memories which became too painful to face?
Suddenly, Sarah barged through my bedroom door. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she rushed to my bed, her chest heaving. “He’s waitin’ for ya. He’s waitin’ for ya, Miss Alexandra,” she shouted, ripping the coverlets off my bed and pulling my arm so hard, I nearly fell to the floor in an awkward heap of flapping arms and legs. I struggled to gain my balance against her forceful grip.
“Sarah, what are you doing?”
“That boy is here, Miss Alexandra. Waitin’ for ya.”
That boy?
“Young, Mr. Graysden. He’s waitin’ in the trees across the road. Get up.”
Within seconds, the warm, soft pillows of my bed were now a distant memory. The question of whether or not William would return was now replaced with the question of why he had returned. I buttoned my dress in such a hurried fashion, certainly a few were missed, a laughable problem that would be dealt with later.
I sprinted from my bedroom, through the house, and down the pathway toward the trees across the road. My heart pounded harder with every stride. Squirrels and rabbits fled their hiding spots, scared of my thunderous footsteps, their fur blurred through the tall grass. As I entered the forest, a pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around me and a perfect set of lips kissed mine. In that instant, I made up my mind. Love wouldn’t slip through my fingers. William wouldn’t slip through my fingers. If he would let me, I would grasp onto him with all my strength and hold on until death took me.
I would not let him go. I refused to let him go.
“Alexandra, why are you crying?” William asked, wiping the tears streaming down my face.
“I…thought…that…you were so…distant the…last time…we spoke. I didn’t know…if I would…ever see you again.” My breath became heavy and hindered my voice causing me to stumble through my words. Unable to sound as though my thoughts weren’t crippling I, too, wiped the tears from my face as I regained my breath. Raw, weak, and exhausted, the paralyzing emotions over the last few days had taken their toll.
“Please stop crying,” he whispered as his arms, once again, engulfed my body and squeezed as tight as he could. “I knew I shouldn’t have come to see you that night after what happened at the café. It was careless of me. I should’ve waited a few days, let the anger and frustration settle down.” The sincerity in his voice didn’t li
e, but to love and leave might still be his choice as the dread and the concerned undertones were obvious. He didn’t want to hurt me even though he was.
“And, the reason for your visit today?” I couldn’t gaze into his eyes when I asked my question, and fearing the answer, I fidgeted with the buttons on his white cotton shirt as his fingers stroked my cheeks.
“Will you come with me for a ride?”
“To where?” I asked, trying to ignore the heat from his body.
“You’ll see.”
We rode for a distance in silence, further into the forest than we’ve ever been. We passed the meadow, which was bigger than I once believed in the darkness, a river, and a small lake. Sunlight peeked through the leaf covered branches, lighting the small path we had ridden down several times in the darkness of night. The scenery was so different from all the times before. William laced his fingers through my hair, pulling the strands over one shoulder while his lips grazed along the exposed skin of my neck. Every muscle in Essiyetv’s body moved as he strode through the trees. His weight shifted from each of his four legs, gently rocking us.
Our destination was unknown to me, yet a vague idea kept popping into my mind like an annoying little child who asked too many questions repeatedly and wouldn’t leave you alone. I closed my eyes. Whether or not to be happy with the notion of where exactly we were heading wasn’t something I wanted to consider.
Smoke billowed in the air through the trees. Children’s voices echoed, their banter spoken in a language I didn’t understand.
“Open your eyes,” William whispered.
“I’m scared to open them.” I inhaled deeply and shook my head.
“Alexandra, please, just open your eyes.”
I gazed down upon the journey’s end I had, at one time, longed for, but also feared more than anything in my life: William’s village.
Desiring William was a risky endeavor for me, as well as him. With my thoughts of never letting him go, came the reality of risk and fear. Perhaps that is why I feared the village the most, and while looking down upon it now, my heart raced.
The Woman on the Painted Horse Page 12