“What you must understand is that I don’t write for you or my fans. I write for me.”
“That is troubling, Liz. You are writing a life you can never have . . . as if your real life is not enough.”
“That feeling you get when you are reading. . . . You know, how you feel all the longing and romance and fear, just as if you were part of the story? I feel all of it when I write. It’s the same feeling of elation that readers experience. Writing is a careful crafting of highs and lows. Too many highs and the story becomes boring. Too many lows and it becomes unbearable.”
“Life is like that. But sometimes we forget how well we have it when we have too many highs or we become depressed when we have too many lows.” Mary sighed.
“Yes, exactly. It’s about balancing the highs and lows.”
“Perhaps you have had too many highs. It is shading your ability to write about them objectively.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you have been so successful. You just married the man you have always been pining for, and now you are having a baby. You have it all! It appears John and Lavender never have any highs. They almost have them, almost. Would it be so bad if they had one high? If they got married? Couldn’t they still have romance and adventure?”
“I don’t think so. With marriage comes responsibilities and children and things that keep one from having adventures. No one wants to read about the adventures of changing diapers or feedings.”
“Well, you could skip over that part.”
“I could, as Penelope Pottifer, but I can’t skip over it in my life.”
“Why would you want to?”
“I’ve seen my sister Lilac struggle with all of her children. I’ve seen her not sleep for days, her home in shambles. She doesn’t work like you and I, either. I write for hours a day. How will I maintain this when the baby comes?” Tears welled in Liz’s eyes. “How will I do it with a baby?”
Mary sighed. “I don’t know, but I know that there will be many who will help you. I will help you. Peter will help you. Michael and your mother and sisters will help you. Somehow you will get through it. Babies are not babies forever.”
“No, but more come along, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do. I can’t deny that I’ve wondered about this myself. I love making hats, but how would I find the time to both have babes and fulfill all my orders?”
Liz shook her head in defeat. They sat in silence for a few moments before there was a knock on Liz’s door.
“I’ll get it,” Mary said as she stood and walked to the door. It was Sarah, Mary’s little sister of fifteen.
“Hello, Mary. I’m not here for you,” she said as she walked straight over to Liz and handed her a manuscript.
“What’s this?” Liz inquired.
“It’s a story. I wrote it.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Liz said as she glanced at Mary’s confused face.
“When did you start writing?” Mary asked, with one eyebrow raised magnificently high in apprehension.
“This morning,” Sarah said proudly. “I need you to read it for me and give me advice. Then help me get it published in the paper, too.”
Liz looked at Mary again, hoping for her to intervene. This was Sarah, the flightiest girl in the world. She could faint at the drop of a hat, and she was the personification of drama. “I will read it,” Liz promised.
“Penelope, please. I really want to be a writer!”
“No one calls her Penelope,” Mary scoffed as she sat in Liz’s side chair.
“It’s out of respect, Mary! Maybe if you were a writer too, you would understand.”
“I will read it tonight, I promise,” Liz said.
“I was hoping you could read it now,” Sarah pleaded with big eyes.
“Oh, well I suppose I could get started on it.”
“Yes! Yes.” Sarah settled next to Liz on the sofa and began to read in tandem with her.
The sun shines on Belinda’s face. Belinda speaks to her father.
“Father. Why aren’t there any more daisies?”
“Because, Belinda, there are evil men who have picked all the daisies from the field. It’s never the same after they are picked.”
Belinda sobbed and fainted. When she woke up she asked her father, “Why did they pick all the daisies! Father, tell me. Tell me.”
“Where are you at?” Sarah interrupted.
“I’m right here.” Liz pointed to where she was on the page.
“You like how I used the symbolism of the daisies?”
“I don’t understand. What does it mean?”
“It’s symbolic for the love that a man has for a woman when they are very far apart.”
“I don’t understand. How are daisies symbolic of that?”
“Just keep reading,” Sarah demanded. “You’ll get it.” By now, Mary had circled the sofa and was reading over Liz’s shoulder.
Belinda’s father replied. Stoically. But what did he say? Belinda didn’t hear because she was dreaming of her love. That man that she could never be with because he was in another country.
“Why can’t they be together?” Mary asked. “Couldn’t they just travel to see each other? I mean, one of them could migrate to where the other one is.”
“Hush, Mary! It is beyond your understanding!” Sarah snapped.
“You are thinking about him, aren’t you?” her father asked stoically.
“Yes, Father, always I dream and think about him. Always.”
“I always think of your mother too.”
“You and Mother live together. You do not understand the chasm in my heart from our departure. Why do you torture me with your words?”
“I will go and leave you to your misery,” her father said stoically.
Not knowing how much of this Liz could bear, she put the manuscript down. “You know, Sarah, I think you have a great start here. Just be sure to be more descriptive.”
“Of what?” Sarah asked.
“Well, all of it. I’m not sure where they are or what they are doing, other than just talking and fainting. I need you to paint me a picture.”
“You don’t have pictures in Enduring Promises of the Heart. I want to be an artist of words, like you, not an artist of pictures!” Sarah said, confusion written on her face.
“No, with your words,” Liz replied gently.
“All right. I will try. I’ll rewrite it and bring it back to you!” Sarah said as she snatched the manuscript from Liz’s hands and rushed to the front door.
“I thank you for your professional opinion, Miss Pottifer,” Sarah said in regal tone. Mary rolled her eyes.
“You are very welcome,” Liz said as Sarah slammed the door shut behind her. “Is she mad or excited?”
“She is maddening,” Mary said as she rounded the sofa and sat next to Liz. “As she said, I am no writer. But that was horrible, wasn’t it?”
“Quite,” Liz said.
Volume Three
Yours Truly, Manis
John sat on the same sand dune where he had waited for Lavender on their wedding night. Again, he watched as Lavender climbed aboard the Lily. But this time, it was supposed to be without his knowledge. This time, Lavender had snuck out of her own home and stolen a dinghy. She didn’t know that John watched her as she hoisted a bag of her belongings on to the dinghy. She didn’t know that he watched her as she rowed out to the ship. Just as she didn’t know that the pain she was causing him was almost too great for him to bear. She also didn’t know that even though John knew he had lost Lavender, he was going to keep a close eye on her. He knew men like Morose couldn’t be trusted, and when he inevitably crushed her heart or her spirit, he would be there to rescue her.
John expected the ship to depart from the shore, but it didn’t. He even
had a ship ready and waiting to follow—a small fishing ship that he bought from a local fisherman using some gold and jewels. He paid too much for it, but it was inconspicuous, and he knew that they would expect him to follow in his royal sailboat.
Instead of departing as John suspected, Lavender and Morose boarded the dinghy that Lavender stole and headed back toward the beach. John waited patiently for them to arrive. He was unsure of what would transpire, but his gut instinct told him that it wouldn’t be good for him. It never was when Morose was involved. Except for the time he saved his life. But Morose had repaid himself by taking what was not his.
Morose pushed the dinghy the last bit up onto the beach and helped Lavender off. John was hiding in the shadows of a nearby rocky wall, waiting for the right moment to approach. Lavender and Morose were smiling. Morose took her hand and led her up the beach.
“Now, Morose, let me do all the talking. If you speak to John, he will likely kill you.”
“Yes, me love,” Morose said as he yanked her arm and swung her back toward him, grabbing her in an embrace. He kissed her passionately and then said, “I can’t wait to make yer me bride.”
Lavender looked up at him and smiled. “Well, I can’t wait to be your bride.”
John felt rage, sadness, and fear bubble up inside of his core. He felt his hand reaching for his sword, but it wasn’t there. Good thing too, or else he might have used it. There was no reason that Lavender could love him and want to marry him one day and be running off with Morose the next. Something was wrong with her. The fainting, the confusion. John didn’t know what, but he knew Morose had done something to her. Before he had to witness any more of this skin-crawling display of his beloved giving affection to this pirate, he stepped out of the shadows.
Lavender saw him first. “Oh, good. He’s here already. We don’t have to go looking for him,” she said calmly without any concern for John’s feelings.
Morose, however, was scared and pushed Lavender away guiltily.
“What is this?” John asked through gritted teeth.
“John, we were just coming to tell you that I am no longer in love with you. You should leave us alone because I am going to leave with Morose. Forever,” Lavender said with little empathy or emotion.
“So, that’s just it. You are going to leave me? Your father’s shop? Pauly? He is like a father to you. You aren’t even going to tell him?”
Lavender scowled at John for a moment. “I will write him. He won’t even notice I am gone. He has Nan.”
“You are making a mistake, Lavender. Tell me what he did to you. I can help you,” John pleaded.
“John, it’s over. I don’t love you. I love Morose. It’s always been Morose.”
“Always been Morose?!” John almost laughed at how ridiculous that was. “Morose kept us in the hold of his ship for weeks. He forced you to fight for my life.”
“He was protecting me. He protected us both.”
“He is a selfish pirate! He is not capable of the kind of unselfish love I have for you.”
Lavender walked toward John and smacked him with so much force he almost fell to the ground.
He balanced himself and stood upright again only to face another hand flying his way. He grabbed her wrist before her hand struck his face. Lavender lifted a leg to kick John, but he grabbed it with his other hand. She scowled at him as she twisted and landed a kick to his thigh with her other leg, causing John to release her wrist and leg as his leg throbbed painfully from her hard-heeled shoe. John recovered quickly and stood steadfast.
Morose wanted to laugh but thought it best he not be the next one to face Johnny boy.
“I am leaving. Morose is twice the man you’ll ever be. He is the kindest, most loyal pirate there ever was.”
John stood still and watched Morose. He would find out what he had done to Lavender if it was the last thing he ever did. “Fine, go. I won’t stop you.”
With that Lavender gave John a maniacal laugh and ran to Morose, kissing him and screeching with excitement. “Let’s go! We don’t ever have to worry about him again!” She tried to kiss him again, but Morose was ever conscious of John’s watchful eye and pulled away.
“All righty, enough of that. Let’s go.”
“What have you done to her? She’s not the same person!” John yelled.
Morose looked at Lavender, who was sticking her tongue out at John and skipping along the beach. “She be more fun.” Then he muttered, “She be fine.”
As Morose and Lavender boarded the Lily, John headed over to the docks to board his fishing boat. It would be hard to keep up with a large sailing ship like the Lily, but John was a great seafarer, and he was very motivated to keep an eye on Lavender. He knew that whatever spell Morose had on her that it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. He couldn’t lose his Lavender this way.
Mary reached over the hat stand for a piece of blue satin ribbon. She leaned too far and kicked the stand over, which toppled over her stack of empty hat boxes. Therefore, she did not hear the knock on the door at the same moment.
Liz waited impatiently for an answer. She could hear Mary messing about in there, but Mary wouldn’t come to the door, so finally Liz let herself in.
“What is all the ruckus?” Every corner was stacked with boxes, displays, and supplies. Spools of ribbon were stacked as high as they could go without toppling over, and half-finished hats covered every flat surface in the room.
“Liz!” Mary shouted, hand to her heart. “You startled me!” She pulled herself off the ground, using the back of her chair.
“I’m sorry, I did knock,” Liz said as she took in the chaos of the room.
“I know,” Mary said, holding her hands up defensively. “I know it’s a mess. I have too many orders. I have the time but not the space.”
“Perhaps you just need some more organization.”
“Yes. Yes!” Mary agreed. “I have asked Michael to build me some shelving and cupboards. He said he is far too busy at the docks, so I will just have to deal with it for now.”
“That’s odd.” Liz looked puzzled.
“He doesn’t really know how to build them, does he?”
“No, I’m sure he does. It’s just that I was talking with Father the other day, and he said that it hasn’t been this slow for ages. There’s some new importation tax that has slowed business.”
Mary cocked her head questioningly. “Why would he tell me that?” she asked.
“Maybe I misheard him. . . . Maybe—”
Mary interrupted, “You know him best. Why would he lie?”
“Mary, I doubt he is lying to you.”
“Then where has he been the last two weeks until after eight nearly every night? Is he trying to avoid my cooking? Tell me honestly!”
“No, I think he quite likes your cooking.”
“What is it then?”
“I declare, Peter has been coming home after eight as well.” Liz was puzzled and put her hands on her hips. “He said he was just working late at the bank, but the bank closes at five. I’ve been so occupied writing, getting caught up, and retching that I didn’t even think until now how odd that is to stay at a bank so late. Why would they both be staying at work late, starting the same time and until the same hour?”
“What are those boys up to?” Mary thought out loud.
“I’m going to confront Peter tonight.”
“And I as well—except Michael.”
“Of course, it goes without saying.” Liz nodded.
“Why have you come for a visit? Did I forget a lunch date?”
“Oh, yes! I mean no, it is spur-of-the-moment. I just wanted to see if you would go shopping with me. I need a break. My hand is cramped, and even though my deadline is very soon, if I don’t rest it, I will never write again.”
“I see. Well, I am thoroughly frustr
ated here, so I suppose I could use a break as well.”
Liz and Mary trotted down Main Street arm in arm, determined to enjoy tea and cakes at the bank tearoom. However, as was the case since the town found out that Penelope Pottifer was Elizabeth Latter, formerly known as Elizabeth Black, it was not long until she was stopped.
“Penny! Hey, Miss Pottifer.”
Liz turned around and met an unfamiliar face of a young girl with black curls.
“Penny, well, that’s a new one,” Mary said to Liz.
“Yes?” Liz replied politely but bracing for onslaught.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you. I was just wondering, when are you going to have Lavender and John get married? I feel like the story has progressed to a point where they should have probably been married right away, perhaps even before they left England. That seems the most appropriate action.”
Liz interrupted her when she took a breath. “You don’t read Enduring Promises of the Heart because it is appropriate, do you?”
Mary also chimed in. “Yes, it’s about the unpredictability and the excitement and danger, not the propriety.”
“Mary, you have been listening to me, haven’t you?”
“Of course, I always listen to you. I just pretend not to in case it is not in my best interest to have not listened to you later.”
“Hm.” Liz frowned.
“I—I guess not, but I just really don’t want them to be apart.” The young lady stared off into the distance with stars in her eyes.
“Well, I’m sorry. I won’t give anything away. You’ll just have to keep reading,” Liz said as she and Mary walked away. She threw the young lady a curt nod goodbye.
“It is getting hard to walk down the street in peace, isn’t it?” Mary said.
“Yes,” Liz said in a tone that said, “I told you so.”
“Well, don’t be mad at me. I’m not the one who let your secret out, am I?”
“No. I did that all by myself because of my greed and selfishness. I thought we agreed to not speak about it again.”
Unbroken Promises of the Heart: (Promises of the Heart Book 2) Page 4
