Cat handed her more tissues. “I don’t think a healthy relationship and independence are mutually exclusive. In fact, I believe the opposite; you need independence in a relationship for it to be truly solid.”
Amara blew her nose in a quite unladylike fashion.
“But I also think,” Cat went on, “independence is overrated in modern society.” She slanted her eyes at Amara. “I don’t know about nineteenth-century England, but here in twenty-first century America, independence is almost a moral virtue, codified in our very national identity. I personally don’t think that’s so great. I, myself, learned that the hard way. I spent years after my fiancé left vowing to never get involved again. I thought I’d be better, safer, if I remained on my own.”
Amara nodded. Cat’s last words mirrored her own beliefs.
“Yet I soon discovered, with the help of that manuscript, I wasn’t really living. I’d been existing. And I’d been missing out on the marvelous possibilities of human relationships. Especially a love connection.” Cat pursed her lips. “Not that I’m saying everyone has to have a romantic relationship to be happy or whole, of course. I’m saying ... I learned for me, it’s okay to try again, to trust again. And, ironically, I’m totally dependent on Ben, and happy for that to be the case.”
Amara’s sobs had quieted as Cat spoke and were now down to half-hiccups.
“He’s completely dependent on me, too. It’s a two-way street, and that’s why it works.”
Amara’s eyes widened. “How is he dependent on you?”
Cat smiled, her face lighting up with emotion. “We need each other to feel whole. We’re fine apart, but we feel better together. That’s the kind of dependence I like, but it took me a long time to be comfortable with that. Because you’re right—dependence brings vulnerability. But what I hadn’t recognized was that my supposed independence was a different kind of vulnerability; the kind that results from building up walls and preventing anyone from getting through.”
Amara frowned. How did building walls produce vulnerability?
Cat waved her hand in the air. “Listen to me, going on and on. I’m sorry, Amara. Sometimes that happens when I get introspective. This is about you. So—what is it about dependence that scares you?”
How typically American, to get right to the point. The bluntness was disconcerting, but one of the things Amara had grown to love most about Eliza. So much better than the facades of her era.
“Women in my time have, or I suppose I should say had few choices. Marriage was the only one for someone of my station unless one wished to be relegated a spinster, dependent on male family members’ largesse. There were women of means, of course, financially independent women. Widows, usually. They, perhaps, did not feel the constraints as much.
“As the daughter of a duke, I had more leeway than many. Yet from birth, I was groomed to make the best match I could, taught that marriage and motherhood were my life’s purpose. A life of scholarship was not an option for a woman of my social standing. We received instruction only in what we needed to know to be considered accomplished and in how to run a household.”
“That’s no small thing,” Cat interjected.
Amara’s smile was weak. “No, it isn’t. Yet we have no control over our finances. All of that lies under men’s command.”
Cat heaved a huge sigh. “Ugh. Why did I send Eliza there?”
Amara laughed, a true laugh. “I do not know, though the love she and my brother share is undeniable. If there were ever an example of a marriage on equal footing, it would be theirs. But he is the duke, not she. He owns the land, runs the estates, and controls the purse strings. Sure, he’s given Eliza carte blanche, but most other women are not so lucky.” She sighed as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I am sorry, Cat. I did not wish to burden you with this.”
“Nonsense,” the older woman said. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m here to help any way I can. And Matthew Goodson’s a good man. He’s hardworking, dedicated, and kind. Ben speaks very highly of him, and that’s the reason I brought you to him. And you ... Eliza said you needed someone loyal and true, who’d let you be you, who’d never betray your trust. I believe in my heart Matt’s such a man. Though it’s ultimately up to you both. I write the stories and create the possibilities, but I’m not God.”
Amara slumped against the sofa. “Does it make it better or worse that this is both predestined and yet still ... ”
“Free will?”
“Yes.”
“I used to think it’d be wonderful to have things, and people, be exactly what and who I wanted them to be—to be in control of them.” A wry grin twisted Cat’s face. “I’ve learned otherwise.” She stood up, holding her hand out to Amara. “You look exhausted. I’d suggest sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”
Amara took the proffered hand and rose, startled when Cat pulled her into a hug, though she couldn’t say she disliked it. Cat was right. Perhaps a night’s rest would give her better perspective, would make her see she was blowing this out of proportion.
Perhaps tomorrow she and Matthew could resume their mutually pleasurable friendship, and any ideas of something more would have disappeared, much as night melts into day.
And perhaps on the morrow, pigs would also fly.
Chapter 29
“I’m taking Washington to Mrs. Postupak’s. We’ll see you again for dinner,” Ben said, planting a kiss on Cat’s hair. “Need me to pick up anything from the store on the way home?”
“Chocolate!” Cat grimaced. “You know how much I hate this time of the month.”
“You and me both,” Ben quipped as he picked up Wash and zipped out the apartment door. Cat stuck her tongue out after him, but the twinkle in her eye rendered the action less harsh.
“Sorry,” she said to Amara. “I’m extra moody today; it’s that time of the month.”
That time of the month? What did Cat mean?
“Speaking of which, do you need supplies? I know I gave you a few when you first arrived, but we can get you more. Unless you’ve done that already.”
The blood drained from Amara’s face, and an icy sensation stole across her skin. That time of the month. Her monthlies. That’s what Cat meant.
She hadn’t used Cat’s offerings, though they seemed much more convenient and pleasant than what she’d had at her disposal at Clarehaven. No, she hadn’t used them, because she hadn’t bled since she’d arrived. And she should have. Like the rest of her life, her monthlies were occasionally unpredictable, but she’d never gone this long without.
Cat’s hand stopped in mid-air before she could brush her hair behind her ears. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to faint.”
Amara swallowed, focusing on getting her legs to move one numb step at a time to the sofa. “I haven’t ... I haven’t bled since I’ve been here.” She couldn’t meet Cat’s eyes.
“You’ve had a stressful month. Maybe your body’s just a little off.”
Amara nodded, but nausea flooded her stomach. That first time with Matthew, he hadn’t, they hadn’t, warded against pregnancy. Though they’d been careful to use condoms in the times since.
“I’m sure there’s—” Cat broke off, understanding dawning on her face. “Oh, Amara. Are you saying? Did you and—?”
Amara nodded again, misery enveloping her. Would God really give her the answer to her prayers, to bring her forward to a time where she could create her own independent life, only to have her end up with child?
Then again, God hadn’t put her in Matthew’s bed.
Or had He? Maybe Cat’s stories were too powerful to resist. Both Eliza and Cat insisted the choice was Amara’s, but this didn’t feel like a choice. It felt like a trap.
Eliza had wanted to be with Deveric. And her brother had fallen hard for the bubbly American. Their love certainly seemed genuine. But had Dev had less of a say than he knew? He’d told her he and Eliza needed each other for the story to work. He’d been well aware of
what and who had brought Eliza to him and acted fine with it. But had he been under some sort of spell?
Was she?
Anger bubbled up. Anger at Cat, for bringing her here. Anger at Matthew, for tempting her so. And anger at herself, for giving in.
“Bloody hell,” she said, shocking herself with the words, though they felt marvelous to say. She wanted to scream, to rail at Cat, but in her heart, she knew the American wasn’t at fault. No matter what any story said, Amara had had plenty of chances to turn away from Mr. Goodson, and she hadn’t. She’d craved more, in fact. She should have had more control, just like in that garden all those years ago.
“Well,” Cat said with a tremulous smile. “You don’t know for sure. We need a pregnancy test.”
“Pregnancy ... test?”
“Yup. You pee on a stick, and it tells you in a few minutes. You can know as soon as a couple days after you miss your period. When was it supposed to come?”
Amara’s cheeks burned. In anger, in shame, in embarrassment, in frustration. “My last was directly before I journeyed here.”
Cat whistled. “That’s plenty of time. Come on, let’s go. You need answers.”
“But the bookstore ... ”
“We’ll open late. This is far more important.”
Thank goodness Cat had been willing to purchase the test. Amara wanted to sink into the floor, mortified that anyone, even a cashier, would know she might possibly be enceinte.
Home now, Cat led her into the bathroom, ripping open the box. “You need to pee in a cup, then dip this stick in it for fifteen seconds, or whatever the instructions say, then set it on the counter and wait.” She set the purple stick down next to the sink. “I’ll fetch a plastic cup; hold on.”
As she left the room, Amara clutched her stomach, its meager contents nearly leaving her at the events of the morning. A few days ago, she’d finally admitted to herself she had feelings—unwanted feelings—for Matthew Goodson. Now she had to contemplate whether or not she was carrying his child.
Her head spun, and she sat down on the toilet. Cat returned with the cup, her face radiating kindness and sympathy. Tears stung Amara’s eyes.
“Do you want me to stay and help?”
Good God. Amara couldn’t imagine anything worse than relieving herself in front of this woman. She shook her head.
“Okay. I’ll be right outside. Here if you need me. Whatever the result.” Cat closed the door softly as she made her exit.
Amara picked up the stick. What if this revealed she was, in fact, with child? The next few minutes could drastically change the course of her life. She closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe.
You made your bed, Amara. Time to lie in it. She’d survived scandal all those years ago; she could survive this. But as horrendous as scandal had been, it hadn’t involved a third person. A child.
She yanked the seat open so hard it banged against the back of the toilet. Tugging her leggings down, she laid the stick on the counter, then grabbed the cup and sat down before she could change her mind. It was awkward, this business with the cup, but once it was done, she placed the cup on the counter before cleaning herself.
After standing up and restoring her clothing, she stared at the cup for a few seconds before grabbing the stick and dutifully following the package instructions.
Two minutes. Two minutes until she knew if her whole life was about to change. Again.
Cat’s voice came through the door. “You doing okay?”
Amara pulled it open. If she had to face such life-altering news, she didn’t want to do it alone. “I’m waiting,” she whispered. “Please, will you wait with me?”
Cat nodded, saying nothing as she moved next to Amara. Both women stared at the stick, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound.
It was an eternity.
It was over before she knew it.
Cat gasped, but Amara said nothing, the two lines on the stick staring at her like accusing eyes.
She was pregnant.
Matt rolled over in bed, stretching his back as Lovey kneaded his leg, demanding her breakfast.
“Morning, kitty cat.” He felt lighter than he had in a long time. On Saturday, admitting how deep his feelings had grown for Amara had scared the crap out of him. But after taking a few days to think, to reason it out, he felt far more at ease. For one thing, she wasn’t the clingy type, always hanging on him, asking for more. If anything, he was the one seeking her out. He’d been the one to text her to schedule a second driving lesson for the weekend, after all.
So what would the harm be in continuing as they were while opening themselves up to the possibility of more? Who said more had to take up all his time? Amara understood the pressures he was under, the work he had to do.
And he didn’t have to tell her right away. It’d be wise to explore these feelings, to test them, to see if they were more than infatuation before he said anything to her. Yes, he’d play it cool ... and enjoy the time with Amara while doing so.
He grabbed his phone, checking to see if she’d texted. No such luck. Not that she normally did, but, well, he’d hoped. He glanced at the clock. 8:37. He needed to shower but took a minute to type her a quick message. He didn’t want to wait until the weekend to see her again.
Wanna meet for lunch?
Not satisfied, he frowned before adding,
Had a great time last Saturday.
That wasn’t too much, right? He wasn’t declaring his undying love, but he wasn’t ignoring their delightful time, either. Throwing the covers off, he slid into his robe, fed the cat, and then hit the shower, the hot water massaging his torso a reminder of Amara’s skin on his, of her mouth gliding over him in the most intoxicating ways. His cock stirred, and he chuckled. “Down, boy. Hopefully later.”
Turning off the water, he stepped out, toweling himself dry. Throwing on a pair of Dockers and a button-down shirt, he grabbed his laptop and strolled out the door, whistling a merry tune.
No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Amara wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. For the second time in her life, her dreams crumbled to dust before her eyes.
Her sister Cecilia would tell her she was being overly dramatic. She was. She didn’t care. Having a child may not be the end of the world to someone else, but it was to her. Eliza once suggested Amara hadn’t sought out marriage because she didn’t want children.
Eliza was right.
Not that Matthew had offered marriage. Or would. Would he? If she’d learned anything in the last month, it was how very different this society was from her own. In her time, Matthew would offer for her, if he were in any position to do so. It was a matter of honor. But in 2016, women bore children out of wedlock on a fairly regular basis, and the fathers did not necessarily feel any sense of obligation toward mother or child. At least according to television.
“Turn off that garbage,” Cat teased her once. “It’s not reality.”
But this was. This was her reality, now.
“Whatever you decide to do, I’ll help you.” Cat’s voice was low in her ear, her hand rubbing Amara’s back. It was likely the only thing keeping Amara upright.
A bark of bitter laughter escaped her. “Decide? What choice do I have? I have made my bed, as my mother so often told me. I must truly lie in it now.” She crossed her arms over her stomach as if to deny the truth growing within.
“There are options.” Cat’s brow creased, her face troubled.
“Options?”
The American bit her lip, her eyes meeting Amara’s in the mirror’s reflection. “There is adoption. And not all women choose to carry their pregnancies to term.”
Amara’s eyes widened, though it wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard of such things in her time—mostly hushed whispers, rumors about herbs and the like. She shook her head. She didn’t know what she would do, but it wasn’t that.
Her breath came in ragged, harsh measu
res.
“Are you going to tell Matthew?”
Was it an option not to? Even if it were, she had to tell him. He deserved to know. She could not hide that information from him. “Yes. I suppose I must.”
Cat’s head bobbed up and down with vigor. “This is his responsibility as much as yours.” She paused for a second. “I think you should tell him everything.”
“What?” Everything?
“Don’t you think he should know your past, in all senses of the word, now that you both are this involved?”
“No, Cat. No.” Her response was instinctual, panicked. “He wouldn’t believe it. That would be the end, no matter ... no matter what.”
“What do you mean, he wouldn’t believe it? We’ve got Eliza’s letters, the photos she sent, the pictures of you with Deveric and Eliza from Eliza’s phone. I’d think that would be more than enough.”
Amara froze. Why hadn’t she thought of Eliza’s letters herself? All this time she’d thought she had nothing through which she could prove her origins, only photographs on a phone that she doubted Matthew, with as logical as he was, would accept as authentic.
Still, what good would showing him those things do at this point? Even if he did believe her, it didn’t change the situation in which she now found herself. And it was more likely to cause additional problems rather than solve them.
“No, promise me you won’t tell him. Neither you nor Ben. Let me work this out. One thing at a time. Please.”
“Okay, honey, I promise. But at some point, you’ll have to address the time-traveling elephant in the room.”
Elephant? Amara sat down on the toilet, dropping her head into her hands. She was too overwhelmed to even ask the meaning of Cat’s bizarre words.
The Magic of Love Series Page 79
