Unrelenting Love: Banished Saga, Book Five

by Ramona Flightner

  Parthena leaned into his strong embrace. “But you would protect them?” she asked with a hint of wonder in her voice.

  “Always,” he whispered, holding her close for long minutes of the first real peace between them in their marriage.

  Zylphia sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection. She fidgeted with the brush set out in front of her and smiled at her mother when she poked her head in. “Good night, Mother.”

  Delia smiled at Zylphia, although she was unable to hide her concern as she noted Zylphia’s agitation. “If you are worried about the wedding, I can do more to help with the planning. I know you are very busy with canvassing and preparing for the vote.”

  “I will look through the folder tomorrow and see what help I need. Thank you, Mother,” Zylphia said. “I know I should feel nothing but exhilaration at the thought of my upcoming nuptials.”

  Delia smiled. “If you didn’t feel some trepidation about how your life will change, I think I’d worry even more about you.” She caressed one hand over Zylphia’s loose raven hair. “Would you like me to braid it for you?”

  “No, I want to brush it a bit more.” Zylphia picked up the brush and swiped at the ends of her long hair in an absent manner.

  “I forgot to give you a letter I found mingled in with my correspondence. Let me know in the morning if there is any interesting gossip from Montana.” She held out an envelope and leaned down to kiss Zylphia on her forehead.

  Zylphia set aside the brush and opened the letter. She scanned it quickly and realized that it was from both Savannah and Jeremy.

  Dearest Zee,

  I hope this finds you well. I’m sure you are still ecstatic with your Teddy’s return, and I cannot wait to hear more about your reunion. When is the wedding? I only wish we could all travel to be there. However, with school for Melly and Clarissa’s children, and with the threat of inclement weather, we have decided to remain here.

  You can imagine it was quite a gathering we had to discuss whether or not we’d venture East! We met in our front living room and debated for a few hours. We ate and drank quite a bit more than we should have, but had a wonderful time. I think we all realized we couldn’t travel, but we wanted the illusion of truly discussing it.

  I fear Araminta was hoping we’d make the trip as she wanted Colin to come with us quite desperately. He had said he’d remain behind to help care for the children. I’m uncertain what has transpired between them, but whatever sweet feelings once existed there continue to sour. Jeremy has advised me to quit my meddling, but I can’t help it. I want them both happy, and, at the moment, they’re only becoming more miserable.

  Miss Loken, on the other hand, is relieved we are not traveling. If I remember correctly, you didn’t come to know her well. However, she and Clarissa have become fast friends since Rissa began working in the library again. Miss Loken, for reasons unknown to us, is resistant to marrying a very eligible blacksmith who works with Colin. She hides in the back rooms of the library when he comes looking for her, happy Rissa is there to run interference. I think she was dreading having Rissa leave for that reason. Again Jeremy advises me not to meddle, but I wonder what would happen should Rissa be absent for any length of time. What do you think?

  Bravo on your successful art show! I never had any doubt of your success, and Jeremy is as pleased as he can be that we have one of your pieces hanging over our mantel. I received a letter from Amelia recently where she told me that Sebastian keeps your painting in the family rooms as he doesn’t want his neighbors to be jealous of the beautiful artwork he has! Your painting of their mountains was majestic and a perfect thank-you for our time with them last summer.

  Melly misses you and hopes you will visit again soon. I encouraged her to write a small missive in this letter, but she is a horrible correspondent. She takes after Colin. She’s also determined to keep Mr. Pickens’s memory alive by continually making up misspoken words. It’s rather endearing, although I try not to encourage her.

  I miss you, dear cousin, and look forward to seeing you again soon.

  Savannah

  Dear Zylphia,

  Savannah informed me that your Teddy has returned to you, although he has been altered by wounds and battle. I know what that is like, as I remember well what I lived through on my return after serving in the Spanish-American War. I fought in the Philippines, and I did things I never knew I was capable of.

  I know you are one who is determined to push forward and not become mired in the past. A word of caution, dear cousin. Allow your Teddy to speak of his fears. Accept them, and do not dismiss them out of hand as nonsense. They are real to him and must be acknowledged. When a man returns from war, his fears may seem irrational at times. You may have the desire to tell him to buck up and move forward. However, you would be doing him, and your relationship, a grave disservice.

  Life is wonderful in Montana. We are preparing for winter, but it is always one of my favorite seasons as it gives me an excuse to cuddle near a fire with my Savannah while Melly reads us stories long into the night.

  I miss you, cousin.

  Jeremy

  Zylphia traced Jeremy’s words and recalled her conversation with Sophie and Florence. She sighed as she acknowledged to herself what she needed to do.

  18

  Zylphia stood hidden by the partially open doorway and watched Teddy roam the back sunroom. He strummed his mangled fingers along the edge of a chair back as he moved to stare at the dreary back alley. After a moment, he removed his glasses and ran a hand over his face, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. “Please, God, please,” he rasped just loudly enough for her to hear.

  She entered the room, silently closing the door behind her. “What do you pray for?”

  He twirled to face her, his eyes unfocused without his glasses, the gray even steelier without the reflective glass. “Absolution.”

  She remained closer to the door than the window, far from his touch. “Why do you think you need it?”

  “Because I hurt you and betrayed your trust.” He replaced his glasses, and his gaze roved over her stoic posture. He frowned in frustration at not being able to discern her expression.

  Zylphia took a step toward him. “Do you think you are deserving of forgiveness?”

  Teddy froze, the momentary joy at her approach toward him forgotten. “No. I’ll never deserve forgiveness for what I’ve done.”

  “Do you believe that all men who’ve fought should live in torment forever?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So, it’s simply a special form of hell you’ve fashioned for you and you alone.” At her glower, Teddy remained silent. “I refuse to live my life with someone who doesn’t believe he deserves to be happy. Who doesn’t grasp at every happy moment we have with both hands.”

  “You don’t understand what I did,” Teddy whispered.

  “I have a better understanding after listening to you the other day. I realize that I discouraged you from speaking with me the few times you tried to talk with me about the war, and I’m sorry for that. I want to understand your pain, your sorrow, and then help you to leave it in the past.” She took another step toward him, inhaling a deep breath. “Did my desire to focus on the present and not listen to what you’d lived through lead you to reach out to that nurse?”

  Teddy closed his eyes and nodded.

  “I thought you’d stopped writing her,” Zylphia whispered.

  “I had. For a long while. When I received your letters, proclaiming that you’d love me as I was, no matter what had happened and what I’d lived through, I realized I needed to let her go. I wrote her, informing her that I was committed to you and our future.”

  Zylphia moved close enough that she could feel the heat of his body but refrained from touching him. “What happened?”

  He raised tormented eyes to her. “I had one of my fits. I nearly attacked my mother. I’d never felt more alone, among the grandeur of Boston with no one who wanted to understand.” He s
ighed. “I can’t blame them. Who wants to understand the horrors of war and the lunatic who returns with the tale?”

  “That was the day you tried to tell me. When you looked rung out. And I pushed aside your concerns,” Zylphia said. She reached for his hand and clasped it with her own. After a moment she lifted it, cradled between her hands, to her chest. “You consoled me that day.”

  “You eased me with your love,” Teddy said.

  Zylphia attempted to blink away tears. “Don’t excuse what I did. I refused to listen to you when you desperately needed me to hear what you’d lived through. Forgive me, Teddy.” She raised his hand and kissed it. “I proclaimed that I didn’t want us to hide anything from each other, but then I refused to allow you to share yourself with me.”

  He raised his other hand and caressed the side of her face. “Forgive me for being like this. I’m doing all I can to overcome these attacks.”

  Zylphia shook her head. “There’s nothing to forgive, my darling. You must always tell me in the future when I am ignoring you, when there is something you need to say—even if it’s something I might not want to hear.” She tugged on his arm and pushed herself into his embrace. He freed his arm from her clasp and held her tightly to him. She muffled a sob against his chest as he choked out a deep breath into the side of her neck.

  “I’m sorry for writing her, Zee. I felt so alone. No one here understands what the war is like. What that fear is like.” He relaxed as he felt her tight hold on him as he held her. “Thank you for wanting to soothe me with your love, darling, but no embrace, no matter how fierce it is, will ever undo what was done.”

  Zylphia sighed into his chest, kissing him through his clothes. She held him closer, each moment her arms incrementally tighter around him. She pressed her fingers into tight muscles along his spine. At her persistent touch and presence, he shuddered, and she heard a small sob escape. “Cry, my love. Cry.”

  She felt him shake his head in denial. “It doesn’t make you weak or less of a man to cry in an attempt to dispel what has been done to you,” she murmured, running her hands over his shoulders as he finally collapsed into her arms and sobbed. She sank with him to the floor and held him to her breast as he cried, rocking him as she crooned in his ear. She stroked his hair off his forehead, kissing the scar along his scalp, murmuring her love for him over and over.

  When his crying abated, he stiffened and tried to extricate himself from her grasp. She maintained her firm clasp of him and refused to release him.

  “This isn’t to be done, Zee,” he said.

  “What? Receiving comfort when you need it?” She met his chagrined gaze with her supportive smile. “I will never abide by your English sensibilities and agree that you should hide behind an aloof wall while you are suffering. Never, Teddy.” She stroked a hand down his cheek and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead.

  He gave up his struggle to move from her embrace and laid on the floor, his head pillowed on her lap. “I dreamed of such moments. Of the contentment of hearing your voice. Of laying my head on your lap and having you caress me as you are now.”

  Zylphia’s hands continued to stroke his shoulders and face when he leaned into her for more of her touch. “Did it help you to dream?”

  “When I was in the trenches, everything was so horrible. The memories and dreams of us, for us, are what sustained me.” He sighed at her gentle caresses. “I’ve missed this. Just being with you.”

  She bent over him as though she could shelter him with her body. “I would do anything to take away your pain. Your torment.”

  He raised a hand and brushed the hair off her forehead. “Don’t you realize you already do?” He arched up and kissed her before laying back down, momentarily content in the cushion of her lap.

  Teddy sat in his study at his desk, reading a stack of letters, mainly from family in England. A fire crackled in the grate, and a small lamp shone light from the corner of his desk. He attempted to ignore his office door but remained hopeful Zee would sneak through it at any moment. Their wedding was in three days’ time, and he wanted a few moments with her before the spectacle.

  He set down a letter from his cousin Eugenie, updating him about his grandfather, their mutual friends, and her suffragist cause. He smiled as he considered introducing her to Zylphia. He pulled out the next letter in the stack with unknown handwriting scribbled on the envelope. He ripped it open and settled into his chair.

  Dear Mr. Goff,

  I know you don’t know me, and a letter from me is presumptuous. However, Zylphia is my adored cousin, and I feel compelled to write. My uncle wrote me last week, advising me that I should expect a letter from you. As I’ve yet to receive one from you, and because I know your wedding day approaches, I thought I’d write to you.

  My uncle wrote about your recent return from the Great War. It brought back many memories for me as I recalled my experiences in the Spanish-American War and my time in the Philippines. I know that what we each lived through is quite different. However, I believe that war is war and what men are asked to do to each other hasn’t changed.

  It took me quite some time to overcome the memories and the self-loathing that I felt upon returning to the United States. My family’s faith in me helped. Savannah’s love helped. Time helped. No one thing acted as a curative balm. It was a combination of everything and nothing. I don’t know if that makes any sense.

  However, what I would advise is that you try not to compare who you were with who you are now. It’s unfair to you and to those who care for you. Just as Zylphia changed while you were away, you did too. Embrace the change, and let go of the memory of who you were for you are no longer that man.

  I wish you all possible happiness as you marry Zylphia and begin your life together.

  Sincerely,

  Jeremy McLeod

  Teddy set down the letter, his gaze distant as he stared at the painting Zee had gifted him the spring before he went away to war. He lost himself in the bright pink cherry blossoms and the memory of walking down a similar street with her. He remembered their growing friendship that grew into a brash, impulsive love. He closed his eyes as he thought of himself in his laboratory, happily tinkering away on his experiments. He opened his eyes, understanding, if not yet accepting, that some things were no longer possible for him.

  He looked to the door as it opened. He rose, moving toward Zylphia and enfolding her in his embrace. He held her as she cried against his shoulder, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear in an attempt to soothe her as yesterday the Massachusetts men had voted against giving women the same right. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

  She pushed away from him and rubbed at her face before turning from him and swinging her arms around in agitation. “I’m so angry. Sad. I feel listless, and then I’m filled with such a rage that it’s as though I could march all the way to DC.” She spun to face him as he chuckled at the thought. “I feel like screaming, yet no one cares what I have to say. I’m just a woman. What does that matter?” She bit her lip as tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “It matters a great deal, my love, and you know it.” He grasped her shoulders to prevent her from pacing away from him and tried to face her. “Never denigrate yourself to me.” He waited until she met his gaze. “You will find a way to win the vote for the women of Massachusetts. For the women of this country. Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Oh, Teddy.” She sobbed into his chest as she fell into his embrace. “I worked so hard. I don’t know what more I could have done. I keep thinking, if I’d canvassed more, visited more houses. If I’d written more compelling articles. Maybe we would have had success.”

  Teddy sighed, leading her toward the fireplace. He settled onto the couch with her beside him. “I hate to disagree with you, but I doubt you could have done anything to persuade the men of Massachusetts to vote differently this time. The party leaders were against it as was the church. Not enough influential men were willing to take up your banner.”r />
  Zylphia played with his waistcoat, her sobs subsiding to stuttering breaths. “Not this time. But we’ll be better prepared next time.”

  Teddy smiled as he kissed the top of her head. “That’s my Zee. Always ready for the next challenge.” He held her in contented silence as she relaxed into his embrace on the couch. “Speaking of our next challenge, how are the plans for the wedding?”

  Zylphia sighed as she attempted to nestle farther into his embrace. “They’re coming along. My mother is ecstatic, planning all the final details. I hide upstairs in my studio, painting.”

  “Good,” Teddy said. “As long as she doesn’t plan anything we’ll loathe, I’m content leaving the preparations to your mother.”

  “She insists I have to pack up my studio before the wedding, but it’s the only thing that calms me right now. Will you mind if I move that into our new home upon our return?”

  “Of course not,” he whispered. “All I care about is that we have time alone, with no meddling family or friends. Where we don’t have to sneak around for a stolen kiss.” He kissed her tenderly. He stiffened when he felt her tense. “What’s the matter, Zee?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want us to have time away together. I do. It’s just that there’s a meeting here in Boston in November that I want to attend.”

  He pushed her up so that she was sitting, and he sat so they were facing each other. “Zee, are you telling me that you want to cut our honeymoon short so that you can return for a meeting?” At her nod, he groaned. “Should we have waited until December for our wedding? When would I have been guaranteed time alone with you?”

  “It’s not that we can’t have time alone, just not as much time as you’d hoped. We’ll have one week.” She watched him warily.

  “Do you want to marry me, Zee?” When she remained silent, he pushed away from her and the sofa and rose, pacing to the fireplace. He gripped the mantel, unable to banish the memory of another argument that had led to their separation. “I should take your silence as your answer, shouldn’t I?”