AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Youknowwhat this place meant to our parents,” said Clara slowly, in shock.
“How doyou? You were too young to remember.”
“You remember?” She looked down toward the gazebo, remembering Mrs. Watts’ explanation.Before Master David. And after him, before you. And two more times after you.“What do you remember?”
“The last time, I was nine. You were barely four. Mama had a difficult time of it with that one. They wouldn’t let us see her. Felt like months; it had to be a week or two. When we finally saw her, she was pale as death. Propped up as if she could barely sit. She must have lost a lot of blood.”
Clara shook her head; she couldn’t remember that. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Why would I burden you with that?”
Clara looked down the path. “We’d run past here. Never wanting to go there, even when we knew that they were there. I’d wait for them to walk out here. They were always holding hands.”
David looked over, remembering, too. Then he turned, pulling her arm. “Come, let’s seek another path.”
“No. We need to visit the gazebo.”
David regarded her with astonishment and fear. “Why on earth would we do that? I’ve felt enough death around me of late, Clara. I can’t…”
Taking his hand, she looked up at him, hating to push him, yet knowing it was what was needed. “Please. I need to visit, and I need you there with me. It will help me explain what I have to tell you.”
He cocked his head and stared; after a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to ask more, he simply nodded.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She closed her parasol on the way, and set it upon a low shrub as they neared the shaded area surrounding the gazebo.
“Looks to be newly lacquered,” he remarked, looking over at the structure with wonder.
A few weeks ago, she thought, unable to speak around the growing lump in her throat.
“And look at those hydrangeas. They’ve grown.”
Clara stared at the shrubs taller than David, covered in heavy pastel blooms.
They paused before them; Clara clutched David’s arm, leaning on him. Feeling her tremble, he wrapped his arm around her, bringing her close while they stood in observance.
“Brothers or sisters,” he remarked in a reverent tone.
“Yes,” she whispered, leaning her head against him.
After some time, they turned to each other.
“David, I know that you’ve come to Anterleigh to rest. That you’ve been through a great deal, with a heavy burden on your shoulders. But I must share something with you.”
His brows drew together, but he nodded slowly.
“I…” She swallowed. “When I arrived at Anterleigh, I was happier than you can imagine.”
“I thought you were ill.”
“I was! A bit. But it was for a worthy and wonderful reason, David. I was with child.”
As if struck, his head moved back. His eyes were full of confusion. He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. Then finally, he recalled her wording. “Was?”
His one-word question was quietly uttered, and he looked befallen by sadness.
“Was. I lost it.” Taking his hand, she pulled him slowly toward the gazebo, down to the end of the row of shrubs.
