Clean Inspirational Romance: Escape to Paradise (Inspirational Happy Sweet First Love Second Chance Romance) (Contemporary New Adult Love Inspired Holiday Short Stories)

by Johanna Jenkins

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  I swallowed hard. I couldn’t possibly just ask him; that would be incredibly disrespectful. But I had to know. I couldn’t bear to have what happened to me ten years ago to happen again. If he loved me, I wanted it to be fully and completely. If he had no interest then…

  Then I would have to part ways and move on.

  “With us. With our future.”

  I couldn’t believe I had said it, and out loud, to him, at that.

  He blinked at me a few times, unable to form words it seemed. He swallowed, and looked away, taking a step back from me.

  This was not the reaction I had anticipated, and my body seemed to turn to ice. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t blink. And my frantic heartbeat seemed to cease all together.

  “How could you say you wish for something to change, Abigail?”

  His use of my name hurt me even further, and I felt my eyes well up once more with tears.

  “Everything we have now is perfect! I am the happiest man in the world, and I would never want to change a thing between us!”

  “You wouldn’t want to change anything?” I asked, my hands beginning to shake.

  His face paled, and he placed his hands on my shoulder. He searched my face.

  “No, of course not. I would be happy the way things are for the rest of my life.”

  I pushed away from him, turning my face away.

  “I don’t understand, why does this upset you?” he asked, attempting to see my face.

  I took another step back and held up my hand to stop him. “No! I thought that you were different. I thought that all of this…we…”

  I stopped, breathing heavily. I wiped the tears from my eyes and turned back around to face him. I would have to one way or another, and it might as well be now so as to get it over with as soon as I could.

  “Mr. Clarke, if that is truly what you believe, then I must inform you that I do not share those feelings.” The tears came fresh, as my heart told me that I was making an incredible mistake, while my mind urged me to walk away. “Goodbye, Mr. Clarke.”

  And I walked down the hall into the bright beams of sunlight streaming through the windows, the hot tears cascading down onto my face, my heart once more a shattered mess.

  *****

  Mr. Clarke

  “Mr. Clarke?”

  I shook my head, my cheeks warm and my head swimming, and looked over at the large walnut desk. Mr. Honeyfield sat behind it, a book open on the polished surface, an oil lamp flickering lazily between us.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I asked you if you had heard about Ms. Henrietta’s sister?”

  “Oh, yes.” I stared ahead at the bookshelf against the far well. The spines were all well used, some of the golden and black letters faded almost beyond recognition. I had spent the last hour reading them all attempting to memorize them, and find the pattern that Mr. Honeyfield used to organize them; anything to keep myself from thinking about…

  Abigail.

  “And? What have you heard?” he asked.

  “I heard that she was recovering well, sir, and that Ms. Henrietta would be home before the week was out.”

  “That’s quite a relief.”

  For a time, the only sound was the occasional turn of a page as Mr. Honeyfield read his book. I patiently stayed by the door, unable to move, and unable to control my own thoughts.

  I continued to read the spines of the books over and over again, and every time her face passed through my mind, I began again. I didn’t want to think about what had happened in the hallway. I didn’t want to believe that something had gone terribly wrong, and that somehow I had ruined perhaps the best thing to happen to me in my whole life.

  “Mr. Clarke, is something troubling you?”

  I stood up straighter and shook my head. “No, sir.”

  Mr. Honeyfield sighed, closed his book, and removed his spectacles placing them on the desk in front of himself. “Mr. Clarke, do not think so little of me that you believe me to be naïve to your struggling.”

  I turned to look at him. “Sir?”

  He smiled up at me. “Something has evidently happen that has distressed you greatly.”

  I looked down at the embroidered carpet beneath my feet.

  “Does this have anything to do with Miss Bannerman?”

  I did a poor job hiding my surprise as I gaped at Mr. Honeyfield. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”

  “Come now, Mr. Clarke. You must realize that I know about the two of you.”

  I felt my face grow very hot, and I felt like a mouse caught in a trap. How in the world had he found out? I was certain that we were being very careful to hide our relationship from others. But, Mrs. Gardener had been aware of it…

  “I would be an unwise man, indeed, to not be aware of the matters going on in my own home,” he added, but not unkindly.

  I bowed deeply towards him. I felt so foolish. I had promised myself time and time again that I wouldn’t do anything to upset Abigail’s position here at Greenview manor. I had to protect her. I knew that I had to ensure that she would not be punished in any way for my actions or my feelings. It was my responsibility.

  Even if there wasn’t much of a relationship left to hide.

  “Mr. Honeyfield, I humbly apologize if –”

  “There’s no need, Mr. Clarke,” he interrupted.

  I gasped. What did he just say?

  “I wish that you would have come to me sooner, to be honest. There was no need to sneak around behind my back.”

  Again, I felt foolish.

  He stood to his feet, and walked around the desk to stand in front of me. “It is in my best interest to take care of my employees. I would much prefer them to be happy and healthy than struggling and keeping things from me.” He smiled, and held his hands behind his back. “And I need my staff to be at their best so as to perform their duties to the best of their abilities. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded, relief almost palpable as I let his words sink into my mind. All of the effort and time wasted. There had been nothing to fear all along. Mr. Honeyfield was incredibly kind and understanding.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now then, what is it that is troubling you today?”

  I hesitated, and after searching his face, decided against my initial thoughts of creating a fictional tale. And then I shared with him our most recent conversation, and as I spoke, I felt more and more confused.

  Mr. Honeyfield, to my surprise, was smiling at the end of my tale.

  “It seems to me that there might have been slight miscommunication that occurred.”

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Let me see if I understand. You have been afraid of my reaction to your relationship with Miss Bannerman, correct?”

  I tensed slightly at his words, but I nodded in reply.

  “And you believed that by keeping your relationship in the dark, that you were honoring her and ensuring that her reputation would remain spotless to the public eye?” He smiled. “Miss Bannerman, it seems, was hoping for something else.”

  “I do not know what you mean, sir.”

  “Have you ever considered proposing to her?”

  Dumbfounded, I could only stare at him. Here we were, master and servant, speaking so very plainly about matters of the heart. How was it that he was so perceptive? Was it that apparent? Were my feelings written on my face as plainly as if they were in the book he read?

  “You would have my blessing, you know. I planned to offer you a small home just outside the estate once I returned from my stay in Bath. It appears as if this is as good a time as any.”

  “But sir…” I my words caught in my throat. “Sir, she may not want anything to do with me any longer.”

  “Nonsense, my boy,” he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Certainly you must see now that this is what she was hoping for? She was attempting to maintain civility, but I am certain that a proposal is what she meant by �
�a change’.”

  My heart stopped beating for a moment. Could it be? Could I dare to hope for it?

  “How can you be so certain, my lord?”

  “I was married for seventeen years, Mr. Clarke, and have two daughters. I am fluent in the language of women,” he smiled at me more broadly.

  “Will you accept my offer? I expect two of my best employees to be at their best at all times, and if that means providing them a means so they can be together, I am happy to do it.”

  “Sir…” I said, unable to find the words to say. My gratitude surely would not be enough. “You are a great man, going to such lengths for us servants in such an extravagant manner.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I do it because I care about you, all of you.” He looked me in the eye and said, “You are like family to me. And I will always care for my family.”

  I never had a brother, and my father and mother were often far too busy to be able to spend much time with me. Family was a concept that I had noticed from afar. But I believed Mr. Honeyfield. I realized then that I had been incredibly blessed to be admitted into this home, a place where all were treated with kindness and honesty.

  I nodded. “But what do I do about Miss Bannerman?”

  “Speak with her, of course. Tell her what I have offered.”

  “What if she refuses me?” I said, unable to conceal my fear. It was all that prevented me from embracing my joy with open arms.

  “I think you will find that she will not.” He gestured to the door. “Now go. I will see you when you are ready to accept my offer.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I simply stared at him, smiling so wide that my face felt as if it might stay that way forever.

  “Go,” he said once more, laughing as he did. And so I did.

  I ran through the doors, out into the halls, and called her name as I ran. Many of the staff peered out of rooms and doors as I passed, but I cared not. I had to find her, and tell her the good news! I had to make things right, and I wouldn’t let her go so easily.

  I finally found her, standing beside a window in the eastern stairwell, staring out into the night. The light from the candle she carried hid some of her features in shadow, but I could see the trails that the tears had left down to her chin, some still shining fresh.

  “Abigail.”

  She did not turn to look at me.

  “Abigail, I was a fool. I did not understand what you had meant when we spoke earlier.” I walked up beside her, but still she continued to look out the window into the night. The candle flickered.

  “I meant what I said, however. I have been the happiest in all my life, but that had nothing to do with our circumstances. It was simply because I knew you, and that you were in my life every day.”

  I watched the back of her head, but still she would not look at me.

  “I said I never wanted it to change because I could not imagine my life without you in it. I couldn’t imagine a day going by without seeing you smile, or hearing your laugh. I never wanted it to change because I never will be able to stop loving you, but what I want more than anything is for your love to remain, and for you to always love me the way you love me now.”

  At these words, she turned to face me.

  “I never wanted you to think that I didn’t wish for our relationship to progress. I had contented myself with the idea that we may never be able to be married. But I was content with that, because it still meant that I could be with you. I would rather have you in my life than not. Can you understand that?”

  Her eyes stared into mine, and I felt my strength waver. I blinked and pressed on. “But that reality is not one we must live in! Mr. Honeyfield has offered us a house, Abigail! A place for us, beside the estate, so we may be married!”

  “What?” she breathed, her face pale, her eyes wide.

  I stepped closer to her and took her hands in my own. “I apologize for being a thick-headed fool, but I love you more than words could say. I wish more than anything for you to be my wife, I always have. I just never knew how it could be, so I never wished to give you any false hopes.” I bent down on my knees. “Miss Bannerman, I love you with my whole heart, body, and soul. Would you please end my agonized suffering and be my wife, so that we may continue our life out in the light, and away from the shadows?”

  She threw her arms around my neck, bending down level with me, and she cried loudly into my shoulder.

  “Yes!” she shouted, between sobs. “Yes, you fool. Yes!”

  I laughed out loud, and felt tears in my own eyes. “Then come, we must go tell Mr. Honeyfield!”

  We were married underneath the lilac trees behind the house, with all the staff and the Honeyfields in attendance. Miss Judith cried profusely, and Ms. Henrietta even appeared to be moved. Mrs. Gardener had prepared a phenomenal meal for us all, and as I stared at my dear wife, Mrs. Clarke, I suddenly felt as if for the first time that my life was made entirely of golden sunlight, both without and within.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 9 of 10

  The Range War

  I hear the men’s voices before I rush to the window to see them. I shouldn’t rush, really. There’s no need any longer. I know exactly who my Father is speaking to on our deck. And, I know what they are speaking about.

  I rush to the window anyway, if only to confirm my suspicions. As I do, a very familiar and welcome voice meets my ears.

  “It’s the third time this week!” he says angrily. “The first time I was prepared to overlook it. It may have been a simple misunderstanding. But now, there’s no mistaking that it’s deliberate.”

  Though his words carry venom, I can’t help but smile as I stare out the window at Gideon Elison. The man I hope one day to marry. Even when his face is red with anger and his dark brown eyes are glaring daggers, he’s the most handsome figure I have ever seen.

  “I was under the impression,” a lazy, high-pitched voice retorts, “that I could put fences where I liked on my land.”

  This voice is far less welcome. Fred Johnson’s son, Ben, is staring back at Gideon, wearing that horribly smug smirk that never seems to leave his face.

  “It is not your land and you know it,” Gideon retorts moving towards Johnson.

  “Boys,” my father says, coming between them. Father has always been the peacekeeper between the farmers and the cattlemen. It was that way before I was born. He’s the one the men go to when they would rather not deal with a courtroom.

  “There is no reason both of you cannot be reasonable about this. Now, Ben, where exactly did you set up this fence?” he asks.

  “It’s just a simple one,” Ben says. “It’s on the edge of our farm.”

  “It’s just over the edge of your farm,” Gideon growls. “And, it’s blocking my herd’s path to the stream.”

  I’m not sure whether to laugh or shake my head when I hear the threat in Gideon’s voice. It has always been easy to get him riled. It’s gotten him into a good deal of trouble on more than one occasion.

  “The stream was supposed to be on my father’s property,” Ben insists. “The only reason it isn’t is because your Father was friendly with the judge.”

  “That’s not-” Gideon begins, his voice rising. He steps closer towards Ben.

  “Regardless,” Father says, putting out a hand to stop Gideon's movement. “According to the law, the land belongs to the Ellison ranch. Ben, you’ll have to tell your father to move the fence.”

  “It will not be that easy,” Ben says. He’s crossed his arms and he’s now staring at Pa with a sullen look on his long face.

  “You said that the fence was small,” Father reasons. “You won’t have to move it far. Just to the other side of the stream.”

  Ben continues to stare at Father and Gideon for a long while. Then, an all too familiar smirk crosses his face. My heart constricts and I know what Ben is going to say next.

  “The thing is,” Ben says slowly. “I’m not altogether sure if that’s what the law s
ays or just what you say.”

  “You’re welcome to take it up with the judge,” Pa says. Something in his face tells me he knows the game Ben is playing too. And, he refuses to play along.

  “See, therein lies the problem,” Ben says. I see Gideon’s hands ball into fists. He’s readying himself for a fight. I promised myself I wouldn’t let him fight again.

  “The judge favors Elison's father,” Ben says. “And you favor Gideon here. All because he’s courting your daughter.”

  “This is between you and me.” Gideon growls, moving towards Ben. “Leave Emily out of it.”

  “It wasn’t me who made her part of it,” Ben says, the smirk still present on his face as he stares Gideon down. “It was Mr. Porter here who didn’t think I was suitable for his daughter.”

  “Ben, that’s enough,” Father cuts in. He doesn’t move towards Ben as Gideon did, but his face has turned hard and cold. “It was Emily’s decision, as you are well aware.”

  “Are we sure about that?” Ben asks, not taking his eyes off Gideon. “Which do you think is more likely, Elison? That Emily turned down the son of the wealthiest farmer in the territory all on her own? Or that old man Porter here forced her hand?”

  I feel my own face grow hot at the suggestion, which is not at all true. I would not have accepted Ben Johnson’s offer of courtship if his Father had been the wealthiest man in America.

  I see Gideon’s face grow a similar shade to mine as he moves towards Ben once more.

  “You’d best watch your tongue,” Gideon says quietly.

  “I see that I’ve struck a nerve,” Ben says, his smile widening. “Do you think we should call Miss Emily out here, find out the truth once and for all? Should we find out if it’s you she wants? Or, maybe, Mr. Porter is just waiting for your old man to die so that he and his daughter can take your land.”

  Before Ben has finished the sentence, I’m flying to the door. Before I open it, I hear Gideon’s fists smacking against Ben’s flesh.