Page 51
“She came out laughing… speaking to someone inside. I waited… I thought…” Her voice broke, fragile and raw.
She forced herself onward.
“I looked through the window.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Camden was there.”
The confession shattered the last of her restraint. A sob tore free as she bowed her head, tears falling unchecked.
“He was dressing… beside the bed… and she had just left…”
The words dissolved into broken fragments.
“I thought… he promised… he said…”
Anne covered her face again, grief and humiliation crushing through her.
“I feel such a fool,” she choked. “I believed him, Effie. I believed every word.”
Effie rose slowly and drew Anne into her arms. The embrace was firm and steady, flour and warmth and familiarity wrapping around her like shelter.
Anne clung to her, finally surrendering to the storm inside her, sobs shaking her frame as the weight of heartbreak poured free.
“I didnae even stay,” she whispered hoarsely against Effie’s shoulder. “I could not bear it. I left before he saw me.”
She pulled back just enough to meet Effie’s eyes, searching for sense, for comfort, for anything to quiet the ache splitting her chest.
“I dinnae ken what to do now.”
Effie didnae release her at once. She held Anne close, one hand smoothing over her back in slow, steady strokes, grounding her through the tremors of grief. The familiar scent of flour, smoke, and lavender clung to Effie’s clothing, warm and reassuring, and Anne clung to it as though it might keep her from breaking apart entirely.
“Hush now,” Effie murmured. “Let it out. I’ve got ye.”
Anne’s sobs gradually softened, leaving behind ragged breaths and trembling exhaustion. Effie guided her back into the chair and pressed a cup of cool water into her hands, waiting until Anne managed a few steady swallows.
Only then did Effie sit opposite her, expression gentler, but far sharper.
“Tell me again,” she said quietly. “Slowly.”
Anne recounted it all: Freckles’ message, the walk through the forest, Moyra leaving the shack, Camden inside, pulling on his boots. Saying the words aloud made them feel heavier, more real, and by the end her voice thinned to almost nothing.
Effie listened without interruption, fingers steepled against her lips. When Anne finished, silence settled between them.
At last Effie spoke.
“I dinnae like it.”
Anne let out a brittle laugh. “Nor do I.”
“That is not what I mean.”
Something in Effie’s tone made Anne look up.
Effie leaned forward, eyes intent. “Camden Lewis is many things. Stubborn. Overly patient. Far too devoted to his work. But careless with a woman’s feelings? Especially yers?” She shook her head. “It does not fit.”
Anne’s chest tightened painfully. “I saw him, Effie.”
