Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7

by Ramona Flightner

  Resilient Love

  Banished Saga, Book Seven

  Ramona Flightner

  Grizzly Damsel Publishing

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Afterword

  Author’s Notes

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Through the years,

  from swimming,

  To school, to travel,

  You’ve been one of my

  Greatest cheerleaders. Thanks

  For always believing in

  Everything I do,

  Champ.

  Prologue

  “Let me see her, dammit,” Theodore Goff snapped, grabbing the nearest woman’s arm.

  She twisted from his grasp, freeing herself and glaring at him as though he were as bad as the men who had jailed the women convalescing upstairs.

  “She’s my wife.” His voice broke on the word wife, his eyes roving from one woman to the next, finding none sympathetic to his cause.

  “We’ve already informed you, Mr. Goff. She is well-tended. She simply needs time to rest and recuperate. You will see her soon.” She brushed past him with an armful of blankets and headed up the stairs.

  He moved to follow her but jerked to a halt as another woman stepped in his way. “Please. I have to see her. To know that she is well.” He held out his hands in supplication.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the doctor recommended no visitors, not until at least tomorrow,” she said. Her bosom heaved with her deep inhalation as she anticipated further protestations from him.

  However, Teddy nodded and walked through the front door, collapsing onto a bench beside it. He rubbed at his temple and the sweat gathering there as he fought nausea. He closed his eyes, unwillingly recalling another sickroom he had been banned from. The whispered voices. The nurses scurrying in and out. The pitying glances. He shuddered as he relived hearing the news of his twin brother, Larry’s, death. Teddy sat for many moments on the bench, nearly frozen in place.

  He stretched as he rose, glancing inside to find the entryway deserted. He eased open the door, shutting it without a sound. He walked on his tiptoes, preventing his heels from sounding on the hardwood floor, and approached the stairs, peering up them. Seeing his way clear, he quickly ascended to the second floor only to halt at the six closed doors that met him. After entering two wrong rooms, he tried a third.

  “Zee,” he breathed, shutting the door silently behind him. He approached her, ashen and emaciated, curled on her side as she lay on the bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, enhancing the dark circles under her eyes. “My love.”

  He grasped her hand, earning a startled jerk from her as she noticed his presence. Her eyes widened and then filled with tears. She tried to lift her arm off the bed, but it fell to the mattress after raising it only a few inches. She closed her eyes in defeat.

  Kneeling beside her, he leaned over to kiss her eyebrow, her nose, her cheek and finally her lips. “You’re alive, my darling.” He blinked away tears. “And soon you will be well.”

  Teddy, she mouthed.

  “Can’t you speak?” he asked, brushing a hand over her raven hair, its luster lost after her time in jail. He frowned when she shook her head. He felt a slight tugging on his hand and moved it toward her mouth where she kissed his palm.

  I love you, she mouthed before closing her eyes and falling asleep again.

  “Oh, my Zee. What did they do to you?”

  Chapter 1

  Washington, DC, April 1917

  Heels clicking on the marble floor echoed off the stone walls as Zylphia McLeod Goff followed her small party through the darkened halls of the Congress of the United States. Shadows filled each corner, creating an eerie sensation as she peered into the dim spaces to see if reporters hid within. They seemed to be ever-present, hoping to earn the latest scoop from the congressmen—or the first-ever congresswoman. Zylphia walked with perfect posture, lest any secreted reporter see her and write further disparaging comments about her. Her steel-gray coat concealed a fashionable purple dress, while a purple hat covered her raven hair pulled back in a tidy bun.

  Zylphia forced herself to walk with decorum when she felt like skipping with excitement to see Jeanette Rankin, Montana’s Representative, and the only female ever to be elected to congress.

  Zylphia grimaced as she recalled a discussion by suffragist leaders at Cameron House about Rankin. Alice Paul, the head of the National Women’s Party, had rented Cameron House specifically due to its proximity to the White House as part of her campaign to convince President Wilson to change his view on equal enfranchisement for all.

  During those discussions, Zylphia had heard that Carrie Chapman Catt, head of the competing NAWSA, the National American Women Suffrage Association, had commented that she did not believe Rankin to be intellectual enough to be the first congresswoman, especially since she did not have a law degree. Zylphia snickered at Catt’s disgust that Rankin was a westerner. “Where else do women have the vote?” Zylphia mumbled to herself. Only eleven states had granted full suffrage to women to date, and all were western states.

  Zylphia followed her friends, nodding her agreement when they motioned to be absolutely silent. They slipped into the gallery overlooking the House floor and moved toward the front. Securing seats in the second row, Zylphia sat tall so she could better see what occurred on the floor. She fidgeted with delight when Miss Rankin entered, wearing a blue dress and carrying flowers. All her new congressional colleagues stood and applauded as she made her way to her seat. Zylphia frowned as Miss Rankin seemed uncomfortable with the attention granted her.

  Rowena Clement, Zylphia’s good friend from Boston, sat next to her and whispered in her ear, “Do you see that man there?” She nodded with her head to a man on the other side of the gallery. “He’s from the Times. We’ll have to see if he writes the correct information when we buy his paper tomorrow.” Her brandy-colored eyes shone with distrust.

  Zylphia nodded, settled into her chair and waited. “I can’t wait to see a woman in congress vote for the first time,” Zylphia whispered to Rowena.

  “I know. However, I wonder how she’ll vote.” Their voices were low enough that no one overheard them or even realized they were talking with all the loud discussions coming from the House floor. “I know Alice encouraged her to vote no.”

  “Carrie thinks that will be detrimental to the cause as women need to be seen as strong and capable, like a man,” Zylphia murmured, rolling her eyes. “I think Miss Rankin should vote as she believes, as men do.”

  Rowena’s mocking smile met Zylphia’s gaze a moment. “If you believe that’s how politics works, you are naive. I think beliefs have very little to do with how many of them vote.”

  Zylphia raised and lowered her eyebrows and shrugged. They turned their attention to the arguments over the prospect of joining the Great War. As the lengthy debates continued, Zylphia saw Rowena nod off. When one of the congressmen wanted to postpone the vote so as not to vote over the Easter weekend, his m
otion was soundly defeated. There would be a vote tonight, no matter how late.

  “Ro,” Zylphia whispered, digging her elbow into her friend’s side. “I think they’re finally going to vote.”

  “What time is it?” she croaked as she covered her mouth, unable to stifle a yawn. Loose tendrils of auburn hair escaped her once-tidy chignon.

  “Just after 3:00 a.m.,” Zylphia said. “I hope we have time to collect our bags before returning to Boston for the weekend.”

  Rowena shrugged, curling into her coat as though going back to sleep. She jumped when Zylphia stomped on a toe. Thankfully she didn’t shriek. “I’m awake,” she muttered. “Even if we don’t have time to collect our bags, we have plenty of clothes still in Boston.” She peered around the tall gentleman in front of her. “I think the roll call is about to begin.”

  They sat through the long alphabetical roll call as the majority said, “Aye,” in agreement to a resolution for war. “They thought only ten would dare say no, and there must be over thirty so far, by my count,” Zylphia whispered. She sat up straighter as they neared Miss Rankin’s name on the alphabetical list.

  “Miss Rankin,” a man called out in a loud voice.

  Zylphia leaned forward as absolute silence fell over the room.

  “Miss Rankin,” the man repeated, his voice booming.

  Zylphia saw Rankin, sitting at her appointed seat, as she shook her head. “No.” Although unable to hear the words, Zylphia saw Rankin mouth the word.

  “Let the record show Miss Rankin voted no,” the man said before moving on to the next name.

  Zylphia watched Miss Rankin as she sat, composed in her seat.

  “That was courageous,” Rowena whispered. “No matter what your beliefs, to have your first vote in congress be for something this momentous. I admire her for staying true to what she believes in.”

  Zylphia grimaced. “I doubt her constituents will think she was courageous. I fear some will question a woman’s ability to make difficult decisions.”

  She and Rowena rose, leaving the gallery to return to their apartment before heading to the train station for their journey to Boston. “More than forty men also voted against the war,” Rowena declared.

  Zylphia shook her head as she and Rowena shared a long glance after climbing into a cab. “Do you really believe anyone will focus on anything other than how the first woman in congress voted? And find her lacking?”

  “What are you reading?” Zylphia asked as she entered her husband’s office in Boston in the early evening.

  Theodore Goff glanced up from the newspaper with a bemused smile. The scar over his right eyebrow was now so faint it was barely discernible. He continued to wear his thick sable hair longer than fashionable to cover the burnt area behind his left ear, although he seemed to forget his injuries at times. He had regained a large portion of his manual dexterity, even missing the tips of his right hand’s three middle fingers.

  He sat behind his large mahogany desk with two leather chairs before his desk and papers neatly stacked atop it. To the right was a small bow-fronted window with a potted plant, the red velvet curtains pulled to either side of the window facing the darkened front garden. On the wall above his desk hung Zylphia’s painting of cherry blossoms. Another of her paintings, of a man and woman so hunched together it was hard to distinguish one from the other, hung from the wall opposite the window within easy view of his seat at his desk, while a fireplace slumbered next to the door.

  “You’re home,” he murmured with a delighted half smile that faded when she remained away from him by the door. He broke his focus on her and tapped one of his injured fingers at an article, lowering his gaze to the paper for a moment. “Boys are rushing to marry, believing that, if they are wed, they will avoid the conscription noose. I wonder when they’ll realize that marriage won’t prevent their entrance into the armed forces. And that they’ve bound themselves to women they might otherwise have avoided.”

  He shook his head. “I always find it fascinating to watch how the fervency for war disappears when one realizes the personal toll it might take. I wonder if those congressmen would have been so eager to enter the war if their sons were destined for the trenches.” He rubbed his thumb over his injured fingers and pushed the newspaper away from him.

  “I think there are those who believe that an American sacrifice is needed in order to ensure world peace.”

  “Soon they will know the price of their sacrifice,” Teddy said as he fingered the scar on his temple, one of many sustained as a soldier fighting for England during the Great War. “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you were to remain in Washington until tomorrow.”

  “No, I was up all night at the hearing, and then Rowena and I caught the first train home. We slept the entire way.” She sat on a chair across from him. “I was hoping we could have a civil conversation.”

  He waved at the newspaper and intimated they’d just had one.

  She glared at him. “Where we could discuss our differences.”

  Teddy rose and moved to the front blinds, pulling them closed as cold spring air seeped in and distancing himself from her at the same time. “Zee, I’m thankful you traveled home for Easter. Your parents will be delighted to see you.” He pushed aside a potted plant and perched on the windowsill with the curtains forming a cloak around him. “However, nothing’s changed.”

  “How can you say that? I’ve been away since January. Can you say you haven’t missed me?” She watched him with ardent hope.

  He looked at her from head to foot, the longing in his entire being evident as he unknowingly canted toward her. “I’ve missed you, Zee.” He paused as his quiet words caused a soft flush in her cheeks. “I haven’t missed the constant squabbles.” He flinched as she stiffened and glared at him. “Yet I’m not changing my mind.”

  “How can you be so intransigent? You don’t even live in England.” Her eyes brightened as she warmed to her argument.

  “Enough!” He winced as he shouted louder than he had intended. “I have no desire to rehash this discussion with you. Nothing you have said or done has altered my way of thinking. I refuse to renounce my British citizenship to apply to become an American so that you can regain yours.” He glared at her. “I’d hoped by now you would have come to accept how things are.”

  “How can you be so cavalier about the loss of something so important to me?” She rose. “It’s an intrinsic part of who I am. I am an American.”

  “No, you aren’t. Not according to your government. You are British, because you married me.” Teddy spoke in a calm tone as though soothing a toddler in the midst of a temper tantrum. “It’s unfortunate you were unaware of that risk before our wedding. Perhaps you would have made a different choice.”

  Her nostrils flared at his patronizing tone. “Perhaps I would have.” They shared an intense stare before she rose and approached his office door. “I’ll remain for Easter, but then I’m uncertain when I’ll return again.”

  Teddy nodded. “I understand. Your cause, unlike other things in your life, is essential to you. I’ll endeavor to become a more committed letter-writer.” He watched her leave his office, his shoulders stooping once the door slammed behind her.

  Aidan McLeod flung open the front door to find their two visitors, tugging his daughter, Zylphia, into his embrace, while Teddy remained silent. “Oh, Zee, it’s wonderful to have you home at last.” He pushed her back to gaze into her eyes and smiled. “I can see your time in Washington has been good for you.”

  “Where is the butler?” Zylphia asked, handing her coat to her father before hugging her mother.

  “Oh, he has time off this weekend. It’s Easter, and we wanted him to do what he likes.” Delia shrugged her shoulders. “Unfortunately, as an orphan, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He said he’d eat here with the staff and then go to the moving pictures.”

  Teddy shook Aidan’s hand and kissed Delia’s cheek. “Hopefully he’ll see the latest Charlie
Chaplin film. At least his time is his own. You’re very kind to your staff.”

  The two couples moved into the family living room at the back of the house, a gentle fire roaring in the grate. Teddy sat on the settee and watched Zylphia with surprise as she sat next to her mother on a chair near the fire rather than next to him. Her father poured drinks for the men and sat near Teddy in his comfortable chair. “I see you and Zylphia have yet to work out your problems,” Aidan murmured as he handed Teddy one of the tumblers of whiskey.

  Teddy shook his head, studying Zylphia as she tilted her head closer to her mother’s and shared a smile. “I haven’t seen her this relaxed in months.”

  Aidan watched his wife and daughter with pronounced pride. “Having a cause has been essential to her. Feeling she is working toward something worthwhile has also helped her. I imagine it’s difficult for you with her so far away.”

  Teddy shrugged. “I have business to attend to here in Boston, and she needs to be there.” He tapped his fingers on the armrest.

  Aidan took the hint and dropped the subject. “I can’t imagine it’s easy on you reading about this country entering the war, especially as you know what is awaiting the soldiers.” Aidan watched Teddy closely as he took a sip of his drink.

  Teddy’s gaze went blank for a moment before he refocused on Aidan. “The newspapers are doing their job by making the war seem heroic and adventurous. The readers have conveniently forgotten the atrocities and horrors they’ve read about for the past two years. If they even bothered to read those stories.” He took a deep sip of his drink. “I want England to win, but, more than anything, I want the killing to end.”

  Aidan nodded. “Hopefully our entrance into the war will turn the tide.” He paused as though waiting for Teddy to say something more. When he remained lost in thought, Aidan turned to include Zylphia and Delia in the conversation. “I thought President Wilson gave a rousing address to congress earlier in the week.”