Page 188 of Whisper of Nightmares

Setting her basket down, Euphemia grabs the letter from him. “What does it say? Is everyone alright?”

“I haven’t read it yet. But I’m sure everything is fine.”

Years of struggle prevent Euphemia from ever fully believing it. Still, the words on the page are a comfort she craves.

Euphemia unfolds the letter.

Dagfinn has slowly been teaching her how to read, so there are a few words she glimpses immediately: health…thriving…your father.

She thrusts the letter back at Dagfinn, too impatient to struggle through the contents today. “You read it. Please.”

“Of course, my lady.” Dagfinn wraps his arm around Euphemia’s waist, holding her close in case she needs him. Her eyes follow along with him as he reads:

My darling Euphemia,

I hope this reaches you in good health, and that your garden is thriving as I know it will be. I wish you could see the Saint’s Hearth now. The tavern is fuller than ever, and we run short of ale every night, a problem I am grateful to have.

Dagfinn pauses to nudge Euphemia with his hip. “I told you everything would be fine.”

She smirks. “Hush, you. Just keep reading.”

Dagfinn obliges.

You will be pleased to hear that Maryam and I have agreed to a proper arrangement between us. Now that her cooperage has been rebuilt, she has provided the Saint’s Hearth with the casks we need to brew and store more ale. Her son has also offered to grow some of the grain and other crops we use in our brewing, and we have agreed upon fair payment.

In return, I have offered them both a standing place at the Saint’s Hearth whenever their business brings them to Nottinghamshire. It seems we have all found a way to benefit one another.

Dagfinn’s hand traces circles on Euphemia’s hip.

Pride radiates from him.

Euphemia feels it blooming in her, too.

He reads the final lines.

Come home soon. I want to see you. There are things I need to say to you that cannot be said over a letter. Things I need to apologize for. Bring your husband, too, Cybele is still eager to meet him and decide for herself if she approves of the man who has won her sister’s heart.

Your love mother,

Andriana

Euphemia’s eyes linger on the words.

Things I need to apologize for.

A conversation they’ve both been avoiding.

Perhaps the time has come. Perhaps they can finally move through their grief together.

“We could go for a visit,” Dagfinn suggests, handing the letter to Euphemia.

“I think we should,” she says, folding it and putting it in her basket. “Do you think we should take the helhest or just a carriage?”

Dagfinn snorts a laugh at the same time a familiar voice calls from behind them.

“Where are you taking the carriage?”

Heathcliffe, Maryam’s son, comes plodding down the path.