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Completely forgetting where she was, she allowed her desire to take over. Even if this were their last kiss, she would remember it, she would treasure it. Her fingers found their way to his face, pressing against the hard line of his jaw, his neck, his ears. She wanted toseehim once again, perhaps one last time, so that the borders and edges of his face would be forever imprinted into her mind. She wanted to soak up the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. Life could take him away from her, but it could never take her memory of him.
She slid her fingers back, raking through his hair, now partaking in that kiss even more, her mind a complete blank filled with no thoughts, only emptions when a frightening realization hit her suddenly.
This is not Joseph!
Quickly, she pushed the intruder away from herself, wiping her lips with her hand. The words rang inside her mind like a church bell warning her that she was in danger, and she needed to run away lest something dreadful happened. But she could not move. She felt frozen in place, paralyzed by the knowledge that she just allowed a stranger to kiss her as if he were the one to whom her heart belonged.
She felt immediately nauseous, feeling guilty for not seeing this mistake earlier. Then, she realized. Her heartdidtry to warn her. After all, was not his voice different? But she was blind, not in the eyes, but blinded by love and hope that he had indeed come back see her.
Now she knew the truth. Blind though she was, she could never mistake someone else for Joseph. Never.
“Who are you?” she demanded to know, her entire body trembling with fear. Her one hand was lifted in front of her in a feeble effort at protecting herself while she placed her other hand behind her, so that she would feel if she stumbled backwards onto something.
She listened intently, waiting for the mysterious man to explain himself and his heinous act, but he offered no justification. She stepped back in an effort to distance herself from him, afraid that he had come for something far worse than just a kiss. Although if he had come to harm her, she was certain that he would have done it by now.
“Bridget!” Oliver’s voice pierced through her ears like a bullet, reminding her that she was not alone; she needed not fear whoever this man was. “You, there! Remain where you are!” he shouted at the man, but Bridget doubted that his order would bear any fruit.
“You will–” she started, but the moment those words left her lips, she could hear three sets of footsteps. The first set was moving away from her, and the other two, belonging to Oliver and Sarah, were approaching her from behind.
“Bridget, what happened?” Sarah asked breathlessly.
Everything happened so quickly. The man’s arrival. The kiss. His departure like a thief in the night. Because that was what he truly was— a thief who had stolen not only her kiss, but also her trust in that precious moment. Yet, she would still find out who that man was and what he wanted from her.
“Was that Joseph?” Oliver asked. She could hear the shock, the disbelief in his voice. He would not be able to mask it even if he tried. It was obvious that he had seen everything, including the kiss. Bridget bowed her head down in embarrassment although this was no time for that. First, they needed to solve this mystery, then she would be allowed to feel like a fool. Not yet. Not before the truth was discovered.
“I saw Joseph running away through the other door, the scoundrel! He did not even have the decency to face me!” Oliver stated loudly.
Bridget could not believe what she was hearing. She could not see the man, but her heart, her lips, and her fingers assured her she was not mistaken. That man wasnotJoseph Turner.
“No, no, Oliver, it was not Joseph…” she tried to convince him.
“Bridget, I saw him with my own eyes,” Oliver spoke angrily, but she knew that he was not furious with her but rather with the man whom he had already deemed to have been Joseph, caught in the act of trying to disrespect his sister. “I saw what he did to you. That is unacceptable!”
“Please, calm down, Oliver,” Sarah tried to interfere. She walked over to Bridget and took her by the hand. Bridget could tell that she, too, was trembling, and it had nothing to do with the chill of the night.
“Calm down?” Oliver blurted, speaking much more loudly than he ought to have. “You cannot possibly expect me to calm down, Sarah, when that rake just tried to take advantage of our sister, in front of everyone no less!”
Bridget could not believe a single word of this. “You are wrong,” she assured him. “Joseph would never do this. He is not that kind of a man.”
“You do not know what kind of a man Joseph is,” Oliver snarled.
“I do,” Bridget was adamant. “I’ve spoken to him in a way you never have. I know him. I know what he is capable of, and what he would never do, what he could never do.”
“You are smitten,” Oliver sounded incredulous. “And I see now that I should have been more strict with Joseph when I told him to keep away from you both.”
“You did what?” Bridget gasped. Now it all made sense. Oliver was the one who ordered Joseph not to contact Bridget again. That was why he was so silent, so aloof when they met him on the street. Bridget felt as if an infinite burden had just been lifted off of her chest, yet that brought forth new confusions, new worries.
“I did what I was expected to do as an older brother, Bridget,” Oliver explained more calmly this time. “I assured that your reputations would be spotless for the right man which Joseph Turner most certainly is not!”
“But Oliver, I touched his face,” Bridget urged. “I know that wasn’t Joseph.”
“You cannot see better with your fingers than I can with my eyes,” Oliver cut her off so rudely that both sisters gasped at the same time.
“Oliver!” Sarah roared at him angrily in protection of her sister.
“Bridget, I…” Oliver sounded apologetic. She was certain that he did not mean it to sound so thoughtless. He was out of his wits, just like she herself was. A man had pretended to be Joseph, but why? Was it just to kiss her? She could not understand the reason for this charade. And not understanding it made her both frightened and angry, just like Oliver was. “I did not mean it,” he continued. “Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Bridget assured him. “But I do ask of you to hear me out. The man you saw running away was not Joseph Turner. It was someone else; someone who looks a lot like him.”
