AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Anna stared, motionless. He spoke her name, and Samuel’s, with such familiar care it lured a memory to light. Or had it been a dream?
“Your mother and I were desperately in love and our passions over came us. When she learned she was with child, we planned to flee, to live our lives free from the demands of society that held her prisoner. But she was forced to marry the man who claimed you and your brother as his own.”
The words smoothed over her like soft cloth. “You are my father.”
“Aye.” Moisture pooled in his eyes and he rounded the bed’s corner. Stopping beside her, he glanced to her hand and motioned to her fingers. “I gave that ring to your mother the day before she was married, and she vowed she would wear it always.”
Anna’s eyes burned. “She did. I never saw her without it.”
Warren’s throat shifted, emotion welling in his face. “I know.”
A tear blinked free and she brushed it away, the words of the ring glowing in her memory. This man had loved her mother—and she him. This was why she had so insisted that Anna marry for love, because she herself had been denied the choice.
“I have never loved another woman in all my life,” Warren said. “And I have loved you and your brother more with every sunrise, though I was not free to show it.” Bowing, he kissed Anna’s hair. “Forgive me for not providing for you and Samuel as I wished, for not being at liberty to protect you from so much sorrow.” He swallowed, as if struggling against a rise of pain. “Forgive me, as well, for frightening you that day.” He looked to William then Anna. “It seems God has turned our chaos into harmony. I will be your servant the rest of my days.”
More tears threatened, her throat thickening. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“You need say nothing, my dear.” He kissed her again. “When you wish to speak more, you need only call for me.” Retreating backward, he turned and exited, closing the door behind him.
Staring, Anna fumbled with the beautiful weight of such a shocking revelation, praying with a gratitude she had never known. Thy goodness is unbound, Lord. How can I even be worthy of such happiness? When again His quiet words returned to her, filling her soul as only the God of heaven can do. Forget not He who loveth thee.
She closed her eyes, the simple expression embracing her like the very arms of God. Thank you, Lord. Thank you. She turned to William. “How long have you known?”
“I learned this only yesterday when I sought his help in protecting you from…” His lips pursed and he lowered his gaze. “From Stockton.”
“He is gone?”
“He is dead.” After the last word, William’s eyes shot to hers.
The weight of their past tribulations hovered between them and she yearned for his nearness. Pushing herself up, she grimaced, the stabbing pain in her ribs protesting the movement. William reached carefully around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest as he leaned back against the pillows. No sound between them. Just the rustling of Kitty and Warren in the parlor, the comforting accompaniment of the popping fire. Anna closed her eyes, and in the silence, could feel their hearts beat as one.
She exhaled a soft breath from her nose and gripped her arms around him. “I despise that man for speaking such slanderous lies. I am so sorry, William.”
A slight groan rumbled in his throat. His chest rose and fell. “My name is not William. It is Henry.”
~~~
Henry stared at the ceiling, hearing the words he’d just spoken spin through the room again and again.
Anna pulled away. “What do you mean?”
Inhaling to fill his lungs more with courage than with air, he prayed for strength. “What Stockton said of me is true. I am Henry Donaldson and I knew your brother. I was there the night he died.”
What little color had returned to her cheeks seemed to deepen. “You were there?”
“Aye.”
“You knew him?” Her eyes rounded, a slight peak of her eyebrows signaling the question before she spoke. “Why did you not tell me, my love?”
My love? She would still call him that? Henry stilled, the beat of his pulse stalling. Where was the anger, the hate? Would she not pull away and call him the vilest of men? She did not. Not the hint of enmity. Just shock. And hope.
Henry shook his head. “I have not known long. And I did plan to tell you, but I wanted the time to be right—”
“I am sure you wished not to say it,” she said, resting her head against his chest, “knowing how it might pain me to know how he killed himself.”
“You may put your mind to rest on that account, Anna. He did not take his own life.”
She jerked away, her mouth agape. “He did not?”
