AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He watched as she inspected the mechanism, and reveled in her smile as she recognized how it worked. When she pronounced, “This is very clever,” Henry found he wanted her to feel the same way about him, and vowed to do his best to impress her every day, as long as she’d have him.
Removing the paper, she lifted the tray to reveal a tiny compartment within, just large enough for a second wooden box, this one filigreed with an elaborate L. She hesitated, and something tightened in Henry’s throat at the pause. At her respect. Her understanding that what was within was the most valuable thing he could give her.
“Go on,” he said, the words coming ragged.
Her eyes found his, wide with concern, but she did as she was told, lifting the box and opening it, revealing his mother’s wedding ring, a thin band of the greenest emeralds Henry had ever seen.
“It’s stunning,” she said, running her fingers over the jewels.
“Emeralds for her eyes... one of the few things I remember about her,” he said. “Her green eyes.Like spring, every minute, my father would say.”
Adelaide smiled at the little story. “When you say you believe in love, it is because of them.”
He nodded toward the paper she’d removed, and held his breath as she lifted the square carefully, unfolding the thirty-six-year-old parchment. He knew what she read. Had read it so many times himself that he’d committed it to memory.
Dearest L—
This is likely not the letter you wished to receive, or at least, it is not from the sender from whom you no doubt wished to receive it. And yet, it is imperative I write to say all the things that I wished to say this morning. The things you would not let me offer—in your misguided belief that I was acting too much a gentleman.
What I feel now, in this moment, is nothing like gentle. I am full of anger for how you have been left. Full of rage for how you have been hurt. And full of hope for how you might heal.
I have spent a lifetime knowing you. A lifetime loving you. And now, if you will have me, I wish to spend a lifetime by your side, as father to your children. What I have, I offer to you—a home, a hearth, and a future.
I have never put much stock in the title; I have always believed that how a man lives is far more valuable than what the world calls him. But I find myself willing to make every possible argument in the hope that you will accept my offer. If it is land you wish for the babe, or wealth for him, or title, that is myoffer. Consider him there, with you, already my heir. Already with a father who will be filled with pride at his every accomplishment.
Here is all of it: you may have all that is mine if only you wish it. All I wish is a future that we might together call ours.
Yours, always,
Clayborn
“Clayborn,” she said when she reached the end, tracing one finger over the signature, once bold and passionate and now faded with the years.
“My father,” he explained, though he did not have to. “Well, not my real father. The father who raised me.”
“No.Your real father,” she insisted, looking up from the letter, tears in her eyes.
The ache in Henry’s chest grew tighter as he reached for her, wanting to stop the tears, one of which spilled over, down her cheek, leaving tracks along her beautiful skin. He brushed it away with his thumb and whispered, “Love, no...”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry—it is so... This is so...”
He nodded. “It is beautiful.”
“He loved her so much.” She looked back down. “And you—my God, Henry. The way he loved you... even before you were born.”
“I didn’t know,” he said. “There was never a moment in my childhood when he was not my father. Not even when Jack, the son of his blood, was born.”
“You were every bit as much his as Jack was. This letter is nothing if not proof of that,” she said with a smile. “I imagine he was an insufferable father, crowing about his lad to all who would listen after you were born.”
He let himself laugh. “From what I hear, I was walking at four months. Reading at six.”
“Of course you were,” she said, looking back to the letter with a wistful look that made him feel the same—longing for a past that he would never know.
For a future he’d never imagined.
Until her.
“She married him. Of course.”
