“Benjamin will be wondering where I got to, and I am sure Sarah has work for you.”
With that, I can tell, all the progress Adam and I had made on our little outing has disappeared. He’s retreated back behind his mask. I have no idea when, or if, he will pull it down again.
Silently, we walk back to the house. He does not link his arm with mine this time. Nor do I attempt to engage him in conversation.
The rest of the day passes in much the same way as the previous four. With one small difference. I find myself looking out the window towards Adam and his work whenever I have the chance.
I find that the morning’s outing only deepened the mystery that is my fiancé. After I saw the look in his eyes when he touched me, a desperate longing when he pulled me down from my horse, I became determined to unravel that mystery.
“I can finish off the potatoes, Hannah,” Sarah tells me, as the afternoon slowly falls to evening. “Why don’t you go dress for dinner.”
I offer her a smile and a nod before retreating down the hall. Truth be told, I am not sure exactly how much help I have been with the chores around the house today.
What is he is trying to hide from me? Why is discussion of the past so distressing to him? I know I must discover the answers to these riddles and it is becoming increasingly clear that I will not receive these answers from Adam. So, where am I to find them?
As though in answer to my unspoken question, I come across an open door in the hallway. This is the door which leads to Adam’s room.
Despite myself, I cannot help but peek inside. There on a dresser table, I can just make out several old photographs.
I look back to the window and see that the sun has not yet set. Adam and Benjamin will be out on the ranch for a good while yet.
Bearing this in mind, I steady my quickly beating heart, take a large breath, and make my way inside.
*****
I do not know how long I have been staring down at this picture. I know I have been here for far too long. I know, logically, that Adam and Benjamin must be on their way back to the house by now. I know I should put the small, paper photograph back down on the desk and walk out of the room before I am discovered.
Instead, I reach my free hand to the picture and run my fingers along the hair of a beautiful young woman. Even in the photograph, her skin seems to glow brightly. Her pale hands were clasped around her clearly pregnant stomach.
On a strange whim, I turn over the picture. Written on the back, in a hand that is clearly Adam's, are the words: Rest in peace my love, we shall meet again.
I stare at the inscription for a long while, much longer than I had stared at the photograph. Here it is. The answer to my mystery.
I thought I would feel a sense of relief at discovering Adam’s secret. Instead, I find my heart weighed down with grief for him. All this time, while I was lamenting my own situation; while I was crying over my former fiancé, Adam carried with him a past that was far more painful than my own.
It was horrible learning that Frank’s love for me was shallow, at best. But at least I knew somewhere in the back of my mind, that I could move on. That once I was removed from him, I would be able to forget.
Adam does not have such a luxury. Even though his wife and child are no longer visible, they will always be with him. This beautiful young woman will always be staring out at him from that photograph.
I turn the photograph back over. This time, I search out and find a bright wedding band on her left hand. I can see it, gently placed, just over the space where her child is growing inside her. Adam’s child.
I can’t help but wonder what happened to this child. Clearly, it is no longer here. I wonder if it perished with its mother, or separately. I wonder…
Footsteps. There are footsteps coming from the hall. Coming much, much too close. I drop the photograph onto the wardrobe as quickly as I can.
As soon as the picture falls back onto the wood of the desk, the door is pushed open wider. I feel the color drain from my face as Adam appears in the doorway.
“The door was open,” I say, knowing in my mind that this is a sorry explanation. His face, at first, wrinkles with confusion now turns gray with understanding. A horrible guilty pit begins to grow in my stomach.
“What did you see?” he asks quietly. I would have preferred it if he had shouted, screamed, ordered me out. Then, at least, I would have a reason to release the tears that are staying locked behind my eyes.
Inadvertently, my eyes travel to the photograph on the dresser. He follows my gaze. I know I don’t need to say anything more. He knows I have discovered his secret. He knows I have solved his mystery.
“I’m sorry,” I say. He passes me without acknowledging my words. He moves to the dresser and takes the photograph in his hands.
He stares at it for a long while. I can’t help but look to him as he does so. Like an accused prisoner waiting for the judge’s sentence to fall.
“This was a mistake,” he says finally. I find my heart sinking in my chest when I realize that I do not have to ask what he means.
“I can make arrangements for you to return to your parents as soon as possible,” he says. Now, finally, the tears that have been threatening to fall since I looked at the picture, slide freely down my cheeks.
I am surprised to find the guilt in my heart has transformed to anger, and I am not entirely certain why. All the same, it is that anger which inspires me to offer a sharper reply than I had intended.
“Do not trouble yourself about me,” I tell him. “I can make my own way home.”
With that, I run from the room, slamming the door behind me. I am certain the rest of the household heard it, but I am too enraged to care. I hurry to my own room and slam that door as well.
Once alone, sobs overtake me as I to sink down onto the bed. These are not sobs of anger or guilt or even hurt. I know what these tears are.
I realize far too suddenly they are the same tears I shed on the night Frank told me he would not be going through with our wedding. I realize I am crying for the loss of a man I have come to love.
I know now, the mistake I have made. I have allowed myself to fall in love with Adam. And that is the worst thing I could possibly have done.
*****
After what seems like hours, I wipe my eyes, take my small satchel out from beneath my bed and begin to pack. As I do, I cannot help but contemplate the life I am returning to. I will never marry. I know that now.
I will live with my parents until they die. Then I will remain in their home, with the farm until I meet their fate. I will never have a family, never see my own children.
I try as best I can, not to cry at these thoughts. I know that any pity I feel on my own behalf is wasted. These are simply the hard, cold facts of my life. I will have to come to terms with them.
I also try as best I can, not to remember the way Adam had taken my waist this morning to help me down from the horse. I try as best I can, not to remember the beautiful way he described the ranch in his letters or the way he’d smiled at me when we inspected the horses.
All of these memories would have to be shoved away in the very back corners of my mind. As I fold my best frock, the one I had intended to wear to the wedding, and place it gently in my satchel, I tell myself that Adam was right. This was a mistake. I should never have come here. I should never have answered his advertisement in the first place.
It would be best for both of us to forget the entire ordeal ever happened.
I place the frock gently in my satchel and move back to the bed to retrieve my shoes. As I do, I hear footsteps in the hall, followed by a loud voice.
“If you would listen to me for one moment, you would realize that your mistake was not in bringing her here but in driving her away.”
I recognize Sarah’s voice in the hall. Again, in spite of my better judgment, I move closer to the door to listen to her.
“Sarah, you were the one who encouraged me to place the ad i
n the first place. I told you I wasn’t ready.”
Adam’s voice is much quieter than his sister’s. I have to press my ear to the door in order to hear him.
“That may be,” Sarah answers. “But I was not the one who proposed to her. Nor was I the one who took to staring at her photograph for hours at a time, after she sent you her first letter.”
My heart stops at that thought. What Sarah was suggesting filled me with both apprehension and joy. Apparently, she had caught Adam off guard as well because she received no reply.
“It’s no use denying it,” Sarah continues. “I saw the way you looked at Hannah’s photograph. I know how desperately you anticipated her letters.”
My heart begins beating quickly again, as I try to think back to Adam’s letters to me. Though his descriptions of his home and family were quite beautiful, almost poetic, I felt no such poetry directed to me.
“You cannot tell me that you are not in love with her,” Sarah continues. My heart beats faster still, when Adam offers no denial.
“Even if that were true,” Adam says, after a long silence. “I cannot erase the past. And I fear that if I were to try again…”
He does not finish his thought. I can tell he does not have to. His sister knows his fears, as do I. They mirror my own. These same fears are the reason I was so determined not to fall in love.
“Have you spoken to Hannah about this?” Sarah asks. Her voice is quieter now. It nearly matches Adam’s.
“Of course not,” Adam says. “I wanted to forget.”
“You were right about one thing,” Sarah says. “You will never forget. Nor should you. The only thing to do is to let it out. That is the only way you might be able to move on.”
Adam does not answer but Sarah’s words strike me none-the-less.
“Even if you decide it is best if she leaves,” Sarah says. “She deserves to know the truth before she does.”
I know now that Adam deserves to know the truth about my past, as much as I deserve the truth about his.
“I suppose I should speak to her,” Adam says. I scurry away from the door as I hear his footsteps reach me. Though my heart is hammering in my chest, I know now what I need to say.
*****
Adam knocks and enters as soon as I have returned to my place on the bed. I am suddenly aware that my eyes must look extremely red and puffy. And that my hair is most likely, in quite a state.
I push these thoughts aside as best I can, when he opens his mouth to speak.
“Hannah, I-”
“Wait,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Please, Adam. Before you say anything, there is something I must tell you.”
He looks at me questioningly, as I take a large breath and begin.
“The truth is,” I say. “I was engaged to a young man. Two years ago. We met at the coming out ball of an acquaintance and I... I thought he was the beginning and the end of my world. Within three months, we were engaged to be married.”
I move away from Adam as I begin the next part. If the tears come, as they often have, I do not want him to see them.
“Two months later, when a girl from a more... prominent family became available... he chose to dissolve our engagement. He married her a little less than a year ago. I have been in agony over it ever since.”
I hear, rather than see, Adam walk towards me after this is said.
“Her name was Lydia,” he says quietly. “We were married two years. She died in childbirth, along with our child.”
Finally, I turn back to him and look him in the eyes. I am surprised to find that my tears seem to have dried completely. It is as though I have no tears left to shed for Frank.
The only pang I feel in my heart is for Adam. I feel so much more for his loss than I do for my own.
“I am so very sorry,” I tell him genuinely. My breath catches when he lifts his hand to touch my cheek.
“I am sorry for you too,” he says. “And not only for your past. I also need to apologize for the way I have treated you. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would very much like the chance to start again.”
His thumb almost absently caresses my cheek as I look into his eyes. I recognize the same expression I saw there this morning when he touched me beside the stables.
Now, I know the missing ingredient that fits inside that look. It is a mixture of sadness, longing, and love. I cannot help but smile as I lean into his touch.
“I would be honored for the chance to begin again with you,” I answer.
His smile mirrors mine and, before I know what has happened, he embraces me fully. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, content in the thought that there are no more secrets between us. There are no mysteries to be solved.
Here there is only life, love, and the chance to begin again.
THE END
Bonus Story 16 of 20
A New Life
Rose O'Neil stepped off the train platform in Denver, Colorado with no idea where to go.
She knew no one in town and the money she had brought with her from Boston was nearly gone. The small satchel she carried with her meager belongings suddenly felt heavy as she stood motionless, watching the others as they greeted family or friends.
Rose knew that this would be a gamble. Getting on a train and heading for an entirely new place. But now, she was beginning to realize just how little she had thought this through.
The truth was, she barely thought at all when she bought a ticket and boarded the train. She hadn’t really cared where the train was going. The only thing that mattered was that it would take her far away from Boston. Far away from her old employer, Mr. Gribbon; far away from her strict Aunt; far away from anyone and anything she knew.
She felt a small shift in her stomach and clutched it as a wave of nausea nearly overtook her. She forced it back and gripped more tightly to her satchel.
That was the reason she left Boston. She splayed her hand over her stomach where a small, weak life continued to grow.
The moment she’d learned she was carrying this child, Rose knew she would not be able to stay in Boston. An unmarried woman carrying a child with a mysterious unnamed father was sure to be shunned. Her Aunt, who had never much cared for her and was only persuaded to take her in when her mother and father both died, would surely have thrown her out of the house the moment she found out.
Rose had no job and very little money. There was nothing left for her in Boston. Nothing to tie her down.
Now, she realized that what had seemed a blessing may, in fact, be a curse.
She rifled through her satchel and looked at the money in her purse. She counted it slowly in her mind. It might be enough to pay for a room at an inn for at least a night or two.
After that, of course, she would have to find some other income. Perhaps she could take a job as a maid. She had done that before.
So, with this makeshift plan in mind, she made her way towards town. Once there, she asked directions to the nearest inn.
When she arrived, she was immediately cowed by the sight of a large, swanky building with a white washed facade and ornate, gilded decorations. Well-dressed ladies, some wearing furs, and gentlemen in top hats passed through the doors of this inn, which she now realized was, truly, a hotel.
Looking down at her worn dress and shoes that were filled with holes, Rose knew that she wouldn’t dare step foot in a place like that. And she knew the small handful of bills in her satchel would not come close to covering a night’s stay in a hotel.
Feeling defeated she turned from the grand entrance and walked down the street. She would have to find a job, that was clear. But, she had not the faintest idea where to look.
She passed shops and taverns feeling her toes hit against the rough pavement through the holes in her shoes. Her feet were beginning to fail her. She knew she could not simply keep walking forever.
She began to look at the shops in earnest, searching for signs in the windows. While she had never been part
icularly good at reading, she knew a few words. The word help was one of them.
She knew from experience that any shop with a sign saying “help” in the window was hiring.
It felt as though she had been on her feet several hours before she finally found one. It was a small general store with a little white sign in the window.
Feeling her heart pound with gratitude, Rose carried her tired feet across the street and into the shop’s front door. Inside, she felt the urge to collapse from exhaustion against the cool wall of the store.
Taking a deep breath, she kept the urge at bay and looked around her. The building, while filled with the expected foodstuffs and everyday tools, seemed void of people.
She walked through an aisle filled with flour and cornmeal before she finally spied the counter bearing the cash register at the back of the shop. A man sat behind the counter bent over a piece of paper. His hand moved back and forth as he wrote along the parchment with a quill pen.
When Rose looked at this man, she was reminded immediately of the boys she had seen studying at the universities back home. Boys who were more interested in books than they were girls, marriage or anything else. He wore small spectacles on the bridge of his long nose. His light brown hair was slightly long and had been allowed to grow just past his collar.
Her eye was drawn to the light, soft looking skin on his hand as it moved back and forth against the parchment. He struck her as someone delicate. As though a bad cold might just kill him.
She cleared her throat once to try and catch the man’s attention. His eyes did not move from the paper in front of him.
“Excuse me,” she said finally.
The man looked up, appearing startled. He looked around for a moment as though unsure where the voice had come from.
Finally, his eyes landed on Rose.
She could tell immediately that he was a few years older than she had first imagined. Maybe in his early thirties. But, there was a sort of strength in his dark eyes that was not present in the rest of him.
“I apologize, Miss,” he said finally. “How may I help you?”
Sunlight and Shadows Page 50
