Fern released a sob as Alex pushed forward, parting the crowd in front of them. She tripped over a discarded valise and stumbled, nearly colliding with a willowy figure in a pale dress. Fern’s stomach jolted when she saw her sister.
“You’re here,” Fern gasped.
Violet collected herself, straightening her hat and smoothing the sleeves of her dress, then clamped her hands around her reticule. “I thought it was wrong to send you off without saying goodbye.” She looked over to Alex and eyed him warily before returning her gaze to Fern. “You’re married now.”
Fern fought to keep her voice from trembling. “I am. You weren’t—”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t at your wedding. That I wasn’t around for…any of what happened.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Rose is still angry, you know. Mama too.”
Fern winced. She felt Alex move to her side, but she waved him away with a gentle movement of her hand. “I know,” Fern said. “I had hoped they would come, but—”
“Rose will forgive you, I think,” Violet interrupted. “I don’t think she expected this of you.”
“I didn’t expect it of myself.” Fern swallowed hard against the lump developing in her throat.
The crowd began shifting as one as the passengers began boarding, trunks and valises competing with families as they loaded up the gangways. Fern’s eyes darted behind her and back to her sister. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. My classes start in a few weeks, and Alex starts teaching in the winter term.” She hesitated. “Will I be welcome home?”
Violet gave a stiff nod. “You will, but not yet.”
The sisters stared at each other for a long moment. It seemed as though an entire universe existed between them, the distance insurmountable. Then Violet reached forward and took Fern’s hand in hers. “I love you, Fern,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want you to be happy.”
“I love you,” Fern replied, squeezing her sister’s hand as tears blurred her vision. Her voice broke as she tried to speak. “Will you make sure Rose is all right? And she’s happy?”
Violet shrugged. “She will find her own happily ever after. So will I. This one is yours.” She leaned in to kiss her sister on the cheek, and then fixed her gaze on Alex. “Take care of her.”
He smiledand nodded. “I promise I will.”
With one last squeeze of her sister’s hand, Violet turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Alex had Fern in his arms before she could take a full breath, holding her tight as she shuddered with sobs. The other passengers fanned around them, jostling and bumping the couple as they strained toward the gangway.
Raising her head, Fern pushed the tears from her cheeks. “We have to board now, don’t we?”
Alex touched her cheek. “We don’t have to do anything. If you don’t want to go, we won’t. We can figure something out here, with your family. You can take the time you need, make amends.”
She stared at him wide-eyed and shifted to avoid a porter dragging an oversized trunk toward the ramps. “After all you’ve done to make this happen, you’d be willing to walk away?”
“I might be a little disappointed.” He shrugged. “I will admit I am excited aboutthe beans.”
Fern smiled despite herself. “And I could be persuaded to enjoy baseball.” She pressed her hands to his cheeks. “Are you certain I can do this? That I can be a scholar and have a life in America?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” Alex smiled, dropping his mouth to kiss her. “Except you. I love you.”
Fern took his hand and pulled him toward the gangway, now teeming with passengers. “Then we should probably get on board.”
Epilogue
Boston, Massachusetts, 1909
Fernstretchedintheearly morning sunlight, attempting to ignore the rumbling of her stomach and the fluttering nerves in her belly.
She began to roll to her side when a strong arm covered her breast and pulled her back. “It’s not morning yet,” Alex murmured sleepily. “I’m not ready to leave.”
She groaned. “It’s the first day of classes,” she replied. “I need to make a good impression.” Today she started her fourth year as an adjunct professor at Radcliffe College. After completing her doctoral studies, she stayed on in a teaching capacity, quickly earning a reputation as a demanding but compassionate educator. Educating young women was thrilling, far more fulfilling than she had imagined when she took the post.
Smiling, Fern pushed her body back against him, feeling his arousal pressing against her lower back. “You’re such a distraction,” she said with a sly smile.
“Well,” he said, rolling her onto her back and kissing her tenderly on her temple. “Emily is most certainly already awake and reading.” Fern rolled her eyes. Their seven-year-old daughter spent the majority of her time in the small library on the first floor, and considered time spent sleeping a wasted opportunity for learning.
