Releasing Yesterday Page 15

  The paper lowered, revealing Robert’s furrowed brow. “The intent behind the Trust is suspect, and that might be what motivated her decision.”

  “Suspect? Do you mean…?” Rachel’s fingers tightened upon the fan. “Grandmother?”

  “Grandfather, and he is yet alive and continuing to offer challenges. If she were to take one course that could alter his way of thinking, refusing the money is the best, in my mind.”

  Rachel scoffed. “If she should attempt to alter his opinion one way or the other. A relationship with a father is a precious thing, especially when he is making the effort. But the grandfather?” Rachel pressed her lips together.

  “Now, Ange. We cannot make suppositions with the little information we have at our disposal. Trust Chris to proceed as appropriate.”

  “The dear man will be exhausted by the end of this,” she observed under her breath. “Speaking of Chris, do you not find it odd that they left before you and have not yet arrived?”

  Robert shifted his attention back to the newspaper. “Is it not? My suspicion is they decided to share lunch and perhaps spend some time at her mother’s grave. The appointment distressed the girl, so the visit might be of monumental help.”

  “They did not mention an intent?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, though you should not find that odd.”

  She set down her cup and twitched her wrist to open the Parisian fan forever near. “Distracted, were they?”

  “Both of them. Before and after.” His gaze flicked to hers. “This is Chris, Ange. Don’t allow your imagination to run too wild.”

  “Do you doubt he is able to do the adventurous simply because he tends to be reserved?”

  “Not in so many words. He has amazed us all from time to time, granted.” Robert folded and set aside the paper as Rachel refreshed his coffee.

  “You hesitate to think on this particular situation, then?”

  Robert smirked. “Too right. My own inclinations continue to interrupt.”

  “And what are those?”

  He accepted the cup and sat back, regarding his wife as she caressed the air around her face with the fan. “Were roles reversed, I would whisk you away and keep you blissfully distracted. A certain picnic in an abandoned farmhouse?”

  She laughed, the memories kissing her cheeks with rose. “Right you are, so why do you doubt Chris capable of the same? Does she not now have access to a cottage?”

  “But Chris is painfully aware of his duty to the protection of her reputation.”

  “As aware to the scars of misery on the lovely features of his fiancée.” Rachel lowered her attention to her fingers toying with her favorite fan. “Robert, he would battle the armies of Hell itself to relieve her heart. The weight of these regrets and doubts will crush her if she does not let go soon. He can see that, and the necessity for restraint tortures him.”

  Robert leaned forward, setting aside his coffee to cover her hand. “They will endure, Ange, as we did.”

  She inclined her head, emotion burning her eyes and throat for a long moment before she lifted her gaze to meet his. A smile smoothed the care from her features. “There is my love. He sits across the way, constant. Tender yet strong.”

  Robert caressed a finger along the line of her jaw. “There is my love. She sits across the way, constant. Strong yet tender.”

  Fourteen

  Seeing Truths

  Christopher did not know what to feel or think as he watched Sara pin her hat in place. Light from the afternoon sun danced in her hair, and even the shadows of her cottage laughed along the lines of her face. She peeked at him and smiled, rose splashing across her features as she laughed.

  His fingers sought the curve and warmth of her back, seeking also a proof of her existence to his befuddled mind. Yes, she did stand there. Yes, she faced him and straightened the lapels of his jacket, the sweet fragrance of lilac and vanilla tickling his nose. “We are husband and wife?”

  She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed his cheek with a kiss, laughing again as she moved away, her hand enfolding his. “We are husband and wife.”

  He blinked down at her, relief mingling with desire—he pulled her tight against him, his entire body tingling with new memories. Sara relaxed into the embrace, her sigh a brief heat against his chest. The rightness of it inspired a multitude of visions for his palette, of colors and shadows dancing together. Of brightness and dimness supporting the expanse of life and happiness.

  Emotion swelled and he swallowed it down, hiding his face within the velvet softness of her neck and hair. “I love you, Sara.”

  The quiver of her shoulders confessed her tears even before her hands clutched at the material of his suit coat. Now he would not be constrained by society’s demands for propriety. The freedom to act for her comfort and strength… although there would be the annoyance of the wedding announcement.

  He cleared his throat and pulled back, smiling like a fool, he imagined. “Let us walk, Sara, enjoying the sights and each other. Perhaps we can confess to your mother of our impetuousness and receive her blessing? Although she may give me the evil eye and burst into tears.”

  The laughter bubbled up, relieving the tension he felt within her back and shoulders as she met his gaze. “She would have loved you, Christopher. From the first moment you spoke, she would have loved you as her own.”

  A tear caressed her cheek. He brushed it away. “Even though I happen to be an American?”

  Her gaze did not falter, though her fingers were cold as they cupped his face. “Perhaps because of that fact. A link to a memory. A reminder.” She brushed his cheek with her thumb and followed with a caress of lips. “I am my mother’s daughter.”

  “And for that I am eternally grateful.” She smiled up at him, a depth of shadows and light dancing in her sapphire gaze. The conflict which raged within her could clearly be seen for those who knew her. “Sara—”

  Her gaze retreated, trembling fingers tracing the lines of his knuckles. “Can we go home now?”

  Home. America. He pressed his lips upon the silk skin of her forehead. “Yes, Sweet Sara, we can go home now.” Though he wasn’t yet certain how to confess their union to his sister, or the Trents for that matter. The reaction he expected gave him a shudder, Dix could be unreasonable at times, though he knew there was nothing to be done but soldier onward. Sara’s desperate need for a break from the bombardment had overpowered all else. Whether his family and friends approved didn’t matter, in all honesty.

  “Will Dix be very angry?”

  Sara’s whispered question drew him from the absent task of closing the cottage door. “Will you divorce me if she is?” The concern broke from her features like a mask as she laughed, inviting a wider smile. “Was that question too ridiculous?”

  “Oh Christopher, you are a dear, silly man.”

  “With streaks of unrepentant stubbornness.”

  “I do no’ mind.”

  “Ah. Thus we have journeyed to the Sara of yore, who minds little and faces challenges with a silent, knowing smile. Welcome.” It was this Sara who would need to listen and hear Joseph Conklin’s woeful tale of the darker side of Life’s intentions. “Well, Sweet Sara, let us prepare our tale for the Trents, which shall serve as practice for the confession to my sister. Don’t be frightened of what Rachel may say, for I have a feeling she has done much more questionable acts than this.” He hoped she would be on his side, truth be told, a valuable ally when they confessed to Dix. He cleared his throat, focusing his thoughts as well as his attention to the duty of guiding her to the waiting carriage. “I begin to see how impetuousness simply adds more fuel to an already raging fire.” Christopher scrubbed at the back of his neck. “My good intent has deposited you into another, perhaps more tense, situation.”

  Her fingers tightened upon his hand, drawing his attention. She smiled up at him. “But we are together. We are happy.”

  “We are husband and wife.” She nodded, eyes sparkling lik
e the afternoon sun from a pond. “Battling Life’s challenges together will give us something to talk about, certainly.”

  Sara laughed. “That was no’ ever a challenge for us.”

  “Thank God for that.” He steadied her ascent and then sat beside her, helping with the duty of spreading the fur rug across her lap. “I am dull without something to chatter on about. You will be thankful for all your parties and events after being married for but a month, I wager.” His brief glance caught sight of her tender smile as he gave directions to the driver and sat back into the plush seat.

  Her mouth opened in a bewitching, wide-eyed expression of shock before she wrinkled her nose at him and laughed. A genuine, trill of happiness that shot a spark from everywhere at the same time. He cleared his throat and smiled at her, tugging at his collar before directing his attention from anywhere but the focus of the memories attached to the top-most button of her rose-colored blouse.

  Christopher gave himself an internal shake, hiding it with a chuckle as he gave her arm a nudge. You were to protect her from the shadows of her memories, not get lost in the memories of—He set the image aside, barely, and covered her hands with his. “I’m certain you will say you don’t mind, but I feel certain we will need to state our vows a second time once we arrive home. Everyone expects a grand ceremony I’m sure,” he said, his grimace only barely suppressed, “with a reception at the Gallery.” The only bright side of the whole event. But would she allow an invitation to her father?

  An upward quirk of her lips captured his gaze as he watched the sunshine flash across her profile. Her gaze did not waver from their clasped hands. But even that peered far distant, seeing and reliving a history he would never truly understand.

  “I wonder,” she whispered, “if Mum found herself spirited away much the same as I, overcome by love and the romantic notion of a whirlwind marriage?”

  “With all the sense she ingrained in you, I doubt that.”

  “We all have our moments of ignoring head for heart.” Sara shifted her gaze out the window of the carriage, her clasp tightening upon his hand. “Such fancies and sense echo inside that, at times, we canno’ make sense of what we want and what would be best. Each evening we wonder if the choices made that day were best, or if there could be others. We doubt our sense, grow frustrated with our heart, and find it difficult to balance one with the other when it matters most.” Sara drew in a deep breath, holding it for a long moment before forcing a smile and meeting his gaze.

  Lord, only You truly understand what haunts her heart and worries her mind. Please guide my words and actions as only You would understand. But words wouldn’t come to him, at least no words that he would speak aloud without sounding a fool. So he simply offered her his presence, that silent strength she had so often commended of him. A stab of pain tightened his chest even as he pushed himself to simply lift a hand to caress her cheek.

  The smile softened, reaching her eyes and soothing the shadows to light. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “What have I done but sit here and gawk?” Though the somewhat teasing tone sounded more of a whine than anything.

  Sara actually laughed. Then she drew him close, resting her cheek upon his chest as her arms tightened around him. “For being who you are. For trying so hard to be what I need, though I do no’ understand what that might be.”

  “Life is always a collection of doubts, blessings, regrets, and ‘what ifs’ plaguing us day after night. I guess I felt it was time to do something about one before I had the chance to talk myself out of the consequences.” He pressed a kiss upon the crown of her head, her mahogany tresses tickling his nose with the fragrance of lilac and vanilla.

  “Consequences?” Sara pulled back and blinked up at him, eyes wide.

  “Indeed. Don’t peer up at me with such an expression of innocence, Miss—I mean, Mrs. Lake. Stepping outside the lines of society’s expectations comes with dire consequences. Too much happiness reaps jealousy, you know.”

  Sara blinked and then laughed, cheeks flushed and sapphire eyes aglow. She held his face in both hands and drew him close, the whispered “I love you,” kissed with the faint fragrance of honey.

  Christopher caressed her lips with his. “And I you.” More than he thought possible after such a desert of grief.

  The carriage rumbled to a halt, the snorts and jingling of the horses jerking the couple to their surroundings. Sara smoothed the wisps of hair from her face as the driver opened the door and pulled out the step. “Mind your feet,” he cautioned.

  Christopher tucked a few pound notes into the man’s hand before turning to steady Sara’s descent. “I don’t understand why the thought of anyone seeing us together immediately makes me think we’ve done something wrong.”

  Her smile quivered. “I understand,” she admitted.

  “At least we’re in this together, eh?” He kissed her hand and then tucked it into the nook of his arm. An immediate press of her fingers directed his attention to the Brownstone. Rachel and Robert stood at the top step, Rob with his ever-present quirk of lip and Rachel with her single arched eyebrow.

  Fifteen

  Life’s Blessed Struggles

  Christopher couldn’t tell what the Trents thought on any particular subject, although Rob always seemed amused by whatever struggle Life chucked his direction. How Rachel viewed struggles and trials was still a mystery. “Likely a nuisance,” he muttered, twitching upon hearing his own voice. Sara cast him a quizzical glance, inviting an uncomfortable chuckle and a half-smile. “Never mind,” he said, and then shifted his attention to Rachel, slipping on what he hoped to be a calm exterior. “We’re a bit later than we intended.”

  That single, slim eyebrow quivered a bit higher and held. “Indeed?”

  Rob stepped forward, giving Rachel’s arm a slight nudge, though his focus never wavered from the pair of them. “How late did you intend? You didn’t mention such when you were on your way out.”

  “Yes, well, I, erm, wanted to have a discussion with her after the meeting, regarding certain ideas I had on proceeding.” What he wouldn’t give to have Teddy’s ability to speak ridiculous half-truths and misleading facts as the gospel truth.

  “Proceeding?” Rachel stepped down the front steps with utter calm. Did she realize how intimidating a force she presented? “Proceeding with what? Our visit here? Such seems easy enough to do so now that the four of us are free to discuss certain matters.”

  “Well, yes, there is that, but the business of inheritance wasn’t the only purpose of our visit,” he admitted, thankful for Sara’s closeness. “There were certain things which I had want to see, specifically. Places of Sara’s childhood. Then there was the possibility of outlining the journey of our honeymoon once we are wed. Father has wanted to open another gallery here, you know, and I had hoped to speak with the different privately owned galleries to that effect.” Thank God he could speak of something he knew!

  Rachel’s single, arched eyebrow did not lower. “You speak as if you were accused of something, Chris, or are soon to be.”

  Rob adjusted his unlit, empty pipe between his lips. “A guilty conscience is quite telling, old man.”

  Sara’s fingers tightened upon his arm, and he could feel her gaze upon him as he wrestled with the lack of coherent thoughts in his head. “Guilty conscience?” Yes, there could be no other words for the chaos rumbling around and inside at the moment.

  “While I suppose calling it guilt is a bit harsh, something has definitely sparked life within your eyes and splashed color all about your faces. If I didn’t know you better, Chris, “I would accuse you of a lover’s tryst in some secluded grove.”

  Christopher coughed, gaze darting away in an attempt to hide the truth as he urged Sara up the entry stairs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Although rather than running away, it seemed the perfect opportunity for an apt confession.

  Rachel’s gaze followed them with relentless intensity. There was not enough emotion, however, for
him to tell if she accused, suspected, or …? A tug upon his arm faltered his step to a halt just clear of the entryway and he found his eyes focusing on Sara’s with a surprising moment of dread. There burned a clear decision toward action in those blue eyes.

  “I see a determination in that expression,” Rachel said, her usual Parisian fan lightly tapping a delicate chin. “Do not feel as if we goad you to that end, dear heart.”

  “Oh no,” Sara’s voice was caressed with breathless excitement. “I am but a bit unsure to believe it myself.”

  “Indeed? Such a secret!” Rob encouraged the group farther inside, closing the door tight behind them. “Do confess. We, both of us, are fond of secrets we are allowed to keep from others. We don’t even mind being asked to keep it from each other.”

  Amusement softened the features of Rachel’s calm, and, to be honest, it quieted the rumble in his head. His position shifted a bit closer to his new bride as she vocalized the secretive truth he could still scarce believe: “We were wed.”

  Rachel and Robert’s expressions remained still for a painful moment before, both, broke into wide smiles, laughing and speaking congratulations. Christopher didn’t know what to think about the reaction, other than to suspect the two had been wagering as to the reason for their delay and found themselves both in the right.

  He never knew how to feel about being the target of their odd sense of humor.

  “La! We were right, were we not, Robert. They were given to impetuous temptation and saw it through!”

  “’Impetu—’” Christopher blinked at the two, unable to keep them from drawing Sara and himself to the sitting room just inside the front door. Sara suffered from a similar befuddlement. “What are you talking about? You knew?”

  “It was hard not to suspect what you struggled to keep at bay, old man,” Robert said. He clapped Christopher on the shoulder, his head bobbing in eager encouragement. “The suggestions I voiced on our venture here were better received than I imagined.”