“No.”
“No?” His tone was incredulous.
Mattie stood her ground, her resolve unwavering. “Not until you tell me what is troubling you,” she insisted.
Winston took a commanding step towards her. “You have no right to dictate my actions,” he said, his voice rising. “I do not have to tell you anything.”
“That is true,” Mattie responded calmly. “We can walk back to my cottage in silence, and you don’t have to tell me one thing. But you would be wrong to do so.”
“And why is that, Miss Bawden?” Winston growled.
Mattie ignored the formality, pressing on despite knowing she was provoking his anger. “Because I believe I can help you.”
“Help me with what?” he retorted.
She had a choice. She could say a response that would pacify him so they would return to the way they were before. Or she could tell him the truth, hoping he was ready to hear it.
Taking a deep breath, Mattie met his gaze and said, “I see the pain in your eyes. It is very familiar to me. You have lost something, and I want to help you get it back.”
“And what do you think I have lost?” Winston’s voice was a mix of skepticism and bitterness.
“Joy,” Mattie simply replied.
Winston reared back, his expression hardening. “You are too presumptuous, Woman. I do not need—or want—your help.”
Mattie stepped forward, her hand trembling slightly as she placed it on his chest. “I know that look of pain because I saw it in myself. It was when my mother died and I thought all was lost. But it wasn’t. Joy can be misplaced, but it never completely disappears. Not in our hearts.”
His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. Anger? Surprise? When Winston did finallyspeak, his words were much softer. “Miss Bawden… Mattie… I’m sorry for your loss, but you and I are not the same.”
“I respectfully disagree,” Mattie said.
As she went to withdraw her hand, Winston placed his hand over hers, keeping it in place. “I am a broken man,” he admitted softly.
“No one is too broken to be put back together,” Mattie said.
Winston tightened his hold on her hand. “The pieces may fit, but there will always be cracks in it.”
Mattie offered him an encouraging smile. “The cracks are what make us special.”
Winston’s face fell, a look of despair overtaking him. “What if you are wrong?”
“I rarely am, so why would this be any different?” she asked, attempting to infuse humor into this conversation.
His eyes met hers with an intensity she had never seen before. It wasn’t anger, but more of resignation. “What I am about to share with you could alter the way you look at me,” he said. “You may even be disgusted with me.”
“Why are you so certain of such a thing?”
“Because it is the way I look at myself,” Winston responded, his voice thick with emotion. “What I have done…” His voice trailed off.
Mattie held his gaze, knowing that nothing he could tell her would change how she thought of him. “Trust me, Winston.”
Winston closed his eyes tightly but not before she saw them glisten with unshed tears. A stirring in her heart caused her to reach her other hand up and cup his cheek. “Let me in, and I promise never to betray your confidences,” she said.
His eyes opened and he leaned slightly into her hand, as if he needed her touch to strengthen him. “I’m afraid if I let you in, I will never let you go,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Mattie felt her heart pound in her chest, and she was fearful that Winston could hear it. “I don’t want to be let go.”
Winston stared at her for a long moment as emotions flickered across his face. “You might not feel that way when I tell you that I am responsible for the deaths of two innocent people.”
