“And if she doesn’t?”
“It is a risk, but what do you have to lose?”
Roswell’s jaw was set stubbornly. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. I do not trust the man or his intentions with my sister.”
With a curious look, she asked, “Why don’t you trust the man?”
“It is just a feeling in my gut.”
“What if your ‘gut’ is wrong?”
Roswell looked at her incredulously, as if he hadn’t considered this before. “I have come to rely on my gut when I am meeting new people.”
“Not everyone has nefarious intentions.”
“You would be surprised.”
Anette tilted her head to one side as she detected the pain in his tone of voice. “I prefer to believe the best in people.”
“Says the person who carries a pistol in her reticule.”
“It is good to hope for the best but prepare for the worst, especially since the streets of London are not exactly safe.”
Roswell looked up at the ceiling. “I just wish my mother could talk some sense into Octavia, but I do not want to distress her in any way.”
Anette heard the familiar pain in his voice at the mention of his mother. “How is she faring?” she asked.
His whole demeanor changed as his face grew somber. His shoulders seemed to droop ever so slightly, as if they could no longer handle the heavy burden that he was forced to carry. “She is not doing well,” he admitted. “She doesn’t always remember me.”
“I’m sorry, Roswell,” she said, unsure of what else she could say.
“I never realized how painful it was to be forgotten.”
Anette approached Roswell and came to a stop in front of him. “Your mother loves you,” she said. “You must know that.”
“I do, but the doubt keeps creeping in. What if I am not important enough to remember?” He closed his eyes tightly as if he were holding back tears.
She reached out and touched his sleeve. “Your mother means nothing by this. She is just sick.”
“You must think me to be terribly foolish. It is my mother that is ill, but I am making this about me.”
“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but you have every right to be sad. It is your mother.”
Roswell glanced down at her hand on his arm. “Why does she forget me and not anyone else?”
“That is something I’m unable to answer, but you are a man worth knowing. Don’t you dare doubt that, even for a moment.”
“I just don’t want to lose her,” Roswell admitted softly.
“Death is no respecter of persons, and we will never be truly prepared for the impact that it will cause. The only thing that we can count on is that change is inevitable. We may try to fight against it, but it won’t make a difference in the end.”
Roswell’s lips curled around the edges. “How did you get to be so wise?”
“I am not wise,” she replied. “I just hope that I said something that would help you.”
He placed his hand over hers, encompassing it, gently, ever so gently. “Just you being here with me is helping,” he breathed.
“You are not alone in this, Roswell,” she said. “There are many people who care greatly for you.”
