The Soul of a Storme

by SOOKOO, SANDRA

  For long moments, he glared at her. Then his expression softened briefly before he worked his jaw and shoved a hand through his hair. “Because… I don’t love myself. You were right in that regard. How can I when I’m a veritable powder keg in human form?” His eyes implored her for help, but she didn’t know how, for she was numb from his reversion. She’d given him all the tools; she couldn’t do the work for him. “Like you said, acceptance starts with me, and even in this I’ve failed: me, you—us.”

  Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. She could only imagine the struggle he battled with. “But that’s the glory of it all. You can always start again with more determination and experience.” She came around the table toward him with a hand extended. “Love yourself as you are, knowing you can eventually conquer your demons, else your relationships with everyone else will fail as well.”

  Confusion roiled in his stormy eyes. For one second, she thought he might take her hand, but then he shook his head. “Damn you, Sarah. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve distracted me, from… everything.”

  Another truth, but this one warmed her heart. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” She allowed herself a tiny smile. If he would only let himself have that breakthrough.

  “I… you.” Anger mixed with confusion on his face. “I’m sorry.” The whisper sounded torn from a tight throat. With his fingers clutching at his chest, he fled the morning room.

  “Oh, Andrew. Let go and see how wonderful life can be if you’d just open your eyes to what’s standing in front of you,” she said to the empty space where he’d previously stood. A few tears fell to her cheeks. She’d become a watering pot in the last few days, which was odd, for she’d never been given over to wandering emotions until she’d met him.

  *

  July 15, 1817

  Drew rubbed a hand over his face and glowered into his loaded breakfast plate. Even at half past ten, his stomach still churned though his appetite had fled. Had it only been four days since he’d eaten much the same fare with Sarah?

  Three days since I left her in a snit. Three days since he’d almost admitted how much he’d come to rely on her, come to… care for her.

  When he’d arrived in London yesterday evening, he’d gone straight to Finn’s room. His brother had been sitting up in bed and alert, though he sported a rather large bandage about his head and his temper had nearly rivaled Drew’s. They hadn’t spent time chatting, for he’d been wet from the rain and tired besides, and damn it, he’d second-guessed his decision to leave Sarah.

  Devil take it!

  He shoved his plate away after only two bites and stood as quickly. His mind wouldn’t quiet, and he knew why. Until he attempted to make peace with his brother, he’d not accomplish anything else.

  On his way abovestairs, he passed the butler. “Have you seen Major Storme this morning, Peters?”

  “I came from his room just now, my lord. A package was delivered for him.” The ancient butler shrugged. “He was most secretive about it.”

  Drew’s stomach bottomed out. Had he ordered something that would aid him in attempting suicide again? “Thank you.” Then he took the remainder of the stairs two at a time. At Finn’s door, he pressed the latch and shoved open the wooden panel. His brother sat up in his bed with a smallish box in his lap. The expression of delight and consternation on his face wasn’t what one would think if the man had ordered a knife or other implement of killing. When Finn looked at him with a scowl, Drew cleared his throat. “Ah, good morning.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What’s in the box?” Drew countered. When he craned his neck to see, Finn threw the bedclothes over it.

  “Nothing that concerns you.” His brother frowned. “What are you doing in London? I thought you’d recently married. Don’t you have a wife to keep you busy, or can she not stomach who you are like the rest of us?”

  As a swath of hot anger slashed through his chest, Drew counted to ten slowly in his head to help alleviate the response that sat on the tip of his tongue. “I came because you nearly killed yourself.”

  Finn snorted. His dark hair stuck up around the bandage, making him look like an escapee from a hospital. “I was never near death. I simply fell out of my chair and hit my head.”

  “But the note you left?”

  “Written prematurely in a fit of pique.” He shrugged. “However, that crisis point has passed.”

  “How?” Drew had no idea what his brother struggled with, but suddenly he wished to. “How the devil can you flip between such an intense emotion like depression and then act completely different not four days later?”

  “I suppose I’ve found something that distracts me or makes those other emotions less important. Perhaps I’ve found… hope.” Finn cocked his head to one side as he regarded Drew. “Don’t misunderstand me. When my depression comes to call, there’s every chance I won’t be able to pull myself out of that dark place, especially not alone.”

  “That settles it. I’m staying here.” At least then he could fulfil his father’s last wish.

  “No.” Finn held up a hand. “That’s not the answer. Hell, you seethe with anger even now. Your anger feeds mine, and I don’t want that beast to grow within me.”

  “But—”

  “Stop.” He grew silent for the space of a few heartbeats. “No one outside of myself can remove what I’m feeling, and no one’s advice can help how I navigate my way through.” As he rubbed his fingers along his whisker-covered chin, he nodded. “Neither can I pretend the things that happened to me while on those battlefields didn’t. It is life.”

  The words both confused Drew and gave him a tiny glimmer of hope. It was much like what Sarah had told him, but from a different perspective. “How do you conquer those emotions without them consuming you?” It hurt his pride to ask, but Finn, though his life had been turned upside down and confined him to a Bath chair, seemed more well-adjusted to it.

  “It’s a constant battle. On the days when I’m feeling weaker, then the darkness wins, and my thoughts follow suit.” He shrugged, and for the first time Drew realized how fit and lean his brother was. “Having people about with sunny dispositions and determination of their own helps.” A low chuckle escaped him. “Of course, my favorite people to spend time with are those who have their own struggles but have come out the victor, for that gives me hope.”

  “I see.” Drew gawked at him. It seemed so easy, so why did he constantly fail at it?

  “There is one caveat.”

  “Oh?”

  “For myself, I must want that change, I need to keep moving toward being a better man despite what happened to me. Going to war showed me that life is short, and I did things merely to survive, but coming home has shown me that life has the potential to be long, and…” He swallowed audibly. “I’d like to be around for some of it, to enjoy the time I have left. Only I can make certain of that.”

  There was nothing to say. Both Finn and Sarah held the same beliefs, and unless he—Drew—made the decision to change, it would never happen. He nodded. “Well then, if you don’t require my assistance…”

  “I do not.”

  “You’re well? Promise me you won’t attempt this again.” This was an opportunity for him to make his peace with his brother, but the words wouldn’t leave his lips. Perhaps he hadn’t matured enough for that.

  Yet.

  “I am well, but I can make you no promises. Depression is a formidable opponent.”

  Here was the chance to tell his brother how he felt, that he cared about him, that he was sorry, but the words only sat on the tip of his tongue without mutating into speech.

  Speculation lit Finn’s eyes. “My turn to ask questions. Why the devil did you marry so quickly, and to a woman you didn’t know?”

  Why indeed? “To fulfil my duty to the title.”

  “Ah.” His brother frowned. “Will you tell me about her? She must have an incredibly strong will if she married you, and…” He
held up a forefinger when Drew’s chest swelled with anger, straining the buttons on his waistcoat. “And you’re standing here, not berating me for a shortcoming, but asking me how you might overcome yours.”

  “Such gammon. And no, I will not.” Talking about Sarah to another man smacked of gossip, but heat rose up the back of his neck and his chest ached in a different way than usual.

  “Still the arse,” Finn said with a shake of his head.

  “You would know.” He needed to leave before his brother struck upon the truth. “I won’t take more of your time, but mind you remain in bed to rest. I don’t want any more frantic letters from Mother.”

  “Oh, I intend to stay in bed, at least for some of the time.” Remarkably, a flush covered Finn’s face.

  Not understanding what the statement or the reaction meant, Drew left and moments later returned to the morning room. When he glanced at his mother who sat in her customary chair, his shoulders slumped. He’d hoped he would have been alone to finish his meal and mull over what Finn had said.

  “Good morning, Mother.” He took the chair he’d vacated. His plate was gone, but Peters brought him another, filled with all the same foods as he’d had before.

  “Hello, Andrew.” She glanced at him with bright eyes. “I overheard part of your conversation with Phineas. I’m glad you were civil.”

  “Of course I was,” he snapped, and then sighed. “I apologize.”

  When his mother’s eyebrows soared, he took refuge in the fresh cup of tea the butler poured for him. “How is wedded life?” She added cream and a tiny lump of sugar to her tea.

  There was no blessed way to answer that question without giving away the huge rifts between him and Sarah. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Hmm.” As his mother stirred her tea with a delicate spoon, she rested her gaze on him. “I won’t deny that your news came as a shock to me. Not to mention I was hurt I hadn’t been invited or even consulted.”

  “Please, Mother, I refuse to sit through a lecture. What’s done is done.”

  “Agreed. Such things never broke through to you.”

  Drew poked at the food on his plate with the tines of his fork. “Marrying Sarah was the right choice for me at the time.” Was it still? An image of her appeared in his mind’s eye: her smile when she’d been pleased with him, the amusement dancing in her brown eyes, the damned spectacles that always slipped down, the soft sounds of pleasure she’d made when they were intimate in the drawing room, the way he bossed him into seeing life in a different way.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it. Regardless of your impetuous nature and your horrid temper, your head for responsibility is sound.”

  He barely heard her, so deep had he slipped into his thoughts. God, it seemed like an eternity since he’d seen Sarah, and what was more, he… missed her. As unobtrusively as he could, he rubbed a hand over his heart. The organ ached as if it had been ripped away from a vital part of itself.

  Was it possible? Could he have only seen it with distance?

  “When your father and I first married, there was a long period of adjustment.” She spread a thin layer of marmalade on a triangle of toast. “He was much like you: dutiful but stubborn, and I was a bit headstrong. We fought in those days, but it only made the times we came together that much sweeter.”

  “For pity’s sake, Mother, please don’t tell me about your intimate life with Father.” Drew hastily gulped his tea, which hadn’t had a chance to cool. Tears stung his eyes as the liquid burned his throat.

  “I simply meant that two personalities can oftentimes clash, but eventually they learn how to work together and make something truly amazing.” She pressed her lips together when a smile formed. “Sarah must have made quite the impression on you.”

  “She has indeed.” What was she doing right now? When he’d left, she had tears in her eyes. Had she recovered from the hurt, or his defection? Unease circled through his gut. Worse, had his inability to conquer his emotions sounded the death knell of his short marriage? To distract himself from his thoughts, he told his mother a brief history of his wife, but he left out anything having to do with the difficulties they’d encountered since wedding.

  “Why didn’t you bring her with you? I would have enjoyed meeting her.”

  “Because I’m a prick.” And he hadn’t been able to see past his own damn nose, past his own bloody offended feelings—from everyone. He might have hurt his family at any given time with his temper and arrogance, but they’d always forgiven him. What if Sarah didn’t? The ache in his heart intensified.

  I don’t want to lose her.

  This time his mother couldn’t quell her smile. She tapped a fingernail against an ivory envelope next to her plate he noticed for the first time. Drew’s name was scrawled on the top in his father’s heavy hand. “I won’t ask any more questions, for it’s obvious you’re confused enough already. However, your father left this letter for you, intended to give it to you on your wedding day. Since he’s not here and since I missed it, I’m giving it to you now.” She slid the envelope toward him.

  “What is this?” Drew gave up the pretense of eating. As soon as he laid down his fork, he retrieved the envelope.

  “Advice from a father to his son, things he only realized after the fact. Perhaps it will help you now.” With all the dignity she’d always possessed, his mother rose. “I’ll leave you alone to read it.”

  “No, please stay.” He broke the seal—the exact crest on his signet ring—and then extracted the piece of paper within. When he unfolded the missive, a wave of grief assailed him the second he saw his father’s writing. “I miss him so damn much,” Drew whispered.

  “So do I.” His mother slipped into a chair beside him. With a slight inclination of her chin, she dismissed the butler.

  “Shall I read it aloud?” The hand holding the letter shook.

  “I think this first time you should keep it to yourself.”

  “Very well.” He nodded.

  To my son Andrew on the day of your wedding.

  I’m not good with words, nor with showing emotion, but know I’m exceedingly proud of you this day. The best advice I can give you now is simple, and what I’ve discovered along my path in life.

  No one knows what they’re doing, though some of us might hide that confusion and fear better than others. I certainly felt as if I were lost in a morass at times, not only with the title but also in marriage. Both are huge responsibilities, and they will overwhelm you if you let them. There is no right way to handle both; you must figure it out for yourself.

  When I took up the Earl of Hadleigh mantle, I was exceedingly fortunate in that I married your mother soon after. She has been a tremendous helpmate, and I honestly don’t know what I would have become without her.

  I hope on this day that you’ve chosen well a strong woman who will do the same for you. Once you take up the title—which will be soon after I’ve finished this letter—a calming influence in your countess will make all the difference. Be sure the two of you work together, not only in the marriage but also in everything. Discover life together, for there will be both highs and lows. The only way to weather those storms is with a good woman by your side.

  His hand shook. Sarah was that. Ever since the day he’d married her, she’d been trying to make him see he could be so much more if only he’d look past all the injury he’d carried around.

  You will become an admirable earl when it’s your time, and I know you’ll do the title proud, but you must let your brothers find their own paths. Yes, I asked you to look after them—after your mother—but I meant in a supportive way, perhaps give them guidance to chase their dreams, but don’t bully them into decisions. That is not for you. Only your life is in your purview. You must attend to it else you’ll always be at odds. With everything.

  “Oh, God.” The whispered words sounded overly loud in the silence. His father essentially said what both Sarah and Flynn had in their own words.

  Make yo
ur existence—your marriage and any children should you have—as fulfilling as you can. Above everything, find happiness, court peace, before it’s too late. I spent too much time dwelling on regrets and holding onto grudges, anger, resentment, even fear. They festered, ate away at my soul, Andrew, compromised my relationship with my brother. No, I won’t waste time now telling you the reason for the rift between us. Don’t let this happen to you. If you fail at everything else in life, at least you’ll still have that calm, that sense that everything will come out right in the end.

  And that will take you far.

  In closing, please know that I’ve always been proud of you. If I could have done it all over again, I would have told you how wrong I was in most everything. A man’s duty is to be strong for his family, his title, of course, but that doesn’t mean portray yourself as cold or unmoving. Let yourself feel everything, but only keep those emotions that serve you. Release the rest, else you’ll have shot yourself in the foot before you start. Your mother tried to teach me that, but I didn’t learn until I lay dying.

  Hot tears prickled the backs of his eyelids, but he was beyond caring. Drew let them fall to his cheeks, and as the remaining words blurred on the page, he kept reading.

  All this is a long-winded way of saying, don’t model your life after mine. Put your own signature to being earl and love the hell out of your wife while you can. The time allotted to us is so fleeting…

  Much love,

  Father

  In that moment, the storms inside him quieted and a sense of peace fell over him. His thoughts became as clear as crystal. He lifted his eyes to his mother, didn’t care if she saw his wet cheeks or the tears that fell. “I have to go home to Sarah. I need to fix our union before I do anything else.”

  I love her.

  When it had happened, he couldn’t say, but there it was. He needed her in his life, for better or for worse, and he couldn’t tackle being the earl without her.