by Mia Vincy
His eyes searched hers, as if seeking the truth. She saw the moment he surrendered his fear, and allowed himself to be loved. It was followed by a smile, spreading slowly over his face like sunrise, stretching into a grin.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “You said something about tying me up, I believe.”
“I might indeed tie you up,” she warned.
“Mrs. DeWitt! I am shocked!”
She had to laugh, shaky and wondering, with relief as much as joy, and he was chuckling too. They were still laughing when their mouths met. It was not easy to kiss while laughing, and they had to start and stop several times before they figured it out. But figure it out they did.
Then he settled back on the thick rug and she curled into him, her body tired, her heart grieving, and her whole being bathed in joy. His heart beat against her ear, as strong and true as the arms that held her tight.
“I hurt you because I was scared,” he whispered. “I was scared that you would leave me, that if I loved anything again I would lose it, and so from the start I tried to keep you away.”
“You were scared of me leaving you? Oh, what fools we are.” She pressed her face into his chest. “Joshua?”
“My love?”
“I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
“Here’s my idea: I hold onto you and you hold onto me, and we never let go and we never turn away from each other, no matter what happens, however hard it gets.” He briefly squeezed her tight. “Even when the bad things happen, and the bad things will happen.”
“A bad thing happened today.”
“Yes.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But the good things will happen too. And we will have each other, to share our joys and look after each other when our hearts break.”
“That’s what hearts do,” she said. “They break. Hearts love and hearts break and then they heal. Every hour, every day, we love and hurt and heal.” She pressed her hand over his heart. “Our hearts are broken now.”
“Perhaps we can do something for the little one we lost today.” She looked up at him questioningly. “In your garden,” he continued. “A little statue, perhaps.”
Love rushed through her, and through the ache of her grief, it brought the promise of a new, different kind of peace.
“Yes,” she said. “With some new flowers. A reminder of the love we gave.”
“And that there is always, always, more love to give.”
Joshua insisted she had to rest, and Cassandra found she had to agree. He lifted her into his arms and once more carried her upstairs and helped her into bed.
“Were these flowers from you?” she asked, leaning back against the pillows, watching him strip.
“Do you like them?”
She smiled at the haphazard posy, bursting with life and energy. “Very much. How is it that they are tied with Emily’s ribbon?”
“Ah. That’s Emily’s ribbon.”
Oh dear. “Was that ribbon, perchance, attached to a bonnet?”
He grinned. He stood naked, and she enjoyed the sight.
“I’ll buy her a new one,” he said. “And you. I will shower you with gifts.”
“I don’t need gifts, I only need…” A thought struck her. She had forgotten. “What about Birmingham? Your home is there.”
“My home is with you.”
He slipped into the bed beside her and pulled the covers up over them.
“But your work,” she said.
“Das and I have it all sorted. He is buying into the company as a partner, and he’ll manage it from now on. I’ll stay involved enough to annoy him and keep him on his toes. But now I want to support ideas that are not yet ready, that might not bear fruit for decades, if ever, but are worth the risk for the benefits they might bring. Like electrical power and clean water. And I can do that living with you and getting under your feet.”
“But to leave Birmingham? Birmingham was where you made yourself. It’s who you are.”
“It’s who I was. You made me who I truly am. You showed me a world where it was safe for me to love and be loved. ”
She flipped over to face him. “You showed me a world where it was safe for me to express myself and fight. Which, apparently, means that I yell now.”
“I adore it when you yell. And when you start throwing champagne and chairs? Oh.” He shuddered with melodramatic delight. “All that passion and emotion…”
She trailed her finger over his chest. “I want you near but I can’t…Mrs. King says I must heal. I can’t…do my wifely duty.”
“But my husbandly duty is to let you heal, both heart and body. I can wait.” He stroked her hair gently. “I am a man of infinite patience.”
“You are nothing of the sort.”
“But I am an inventive problem-solver. While you are healing, I shall list all the things I want us to do to each other, and you will make a list too, and when you are ready, we will work through our lists. In fact, I already have some ideas.”
“So do I.”
She turned back over, her back to his chest, and when his arm came around her waist, she covered it with her own.
“My ideas will be better,” he said.
“We shall see about that.”
“Indeed, we shall. I mean to astonish you with my ingenuity, Mrs. DeWitt.”
“Oh please do, Mr. DeWitt, I’m all agog.”
She let her eyes drift closed, wrapped up in their love, knowing that even though life would keep breaking her heart, it would also be full of joy.
All of the time.
Author’s Note
The song “Oyster Nan,” which Cassandra sang to Joshua, appears in the songbook “Wit and Mirth, Or, Pills to Purge Melancholy,” edited by Thomas d’Urfey and published in 1719–1720.
It is not a nice song.
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