Releasing Yesterday Read online

  “Rachel.” Robert’s soft hum of her name halted her words with such swiftness that Christopher wondered at the control he had over someone as strong of spirit as Rachel Samson Trent.

  Rachel released a slow breath. “However, I would offer an alternative to an utter dissolution of your fortune, though we appreciate the trust you place in our Foundation.”

  Sara’s chilled fingers clutching his proof enough to her current state of mind. Christopher caressed her hand with his thumb as he focused on Rachel’s intense gaze. “The alternative being?”

  “Allow us to setup a scholarship, as it were. A special Fund for whomever we four deem worthy. Be it for schooling, special familial needs, or an act of rescue, the Fund would be there, making it possible for others to escape to a future of their choosing.”

  Sara hid her face in her hands, shoulders quivering as she nodded. Christopher rested a hand upon her back. “That is an excellent idea, Rachel. Thank you. Who would be the lead?”

  “Sara will retain the controlling rights of the fortune, as her mother intended, but we would arrange that burden to be shared between each of us. Of course, we would also see to it that the fortune would continue to replenish itself. Agreed?”

  Again, Sara nodded. Rachel’s expression softened. “So, you will need to commandeer my Robert, then, and I will make a nuisance of myself to Paul and Dix as they watch Hank and Gwyn. They promised me a performance, after all.”

  The mention of Gwyn reminded him of his own need for a performance: the one which would both inform Gwyn that she now had a mother, and present the information in such a way that she did not hate him for keeping her from the wedding. Christopher scrubbed at his neck, offering Rachel a forced smile when he caught her arched eyebrow.

  Sixteen

  Softened Shadows

  Sara smoothed the material of her skirt, staring as she was at the crackling fire. How did a person tell a six-year-old that she had married the girl’s favorite person in all the world without letting her see the dress or throw the rose petals? After all these months and weeks of Gwyn’s pleading, how would she react to the act being performed in secret?

  Sara felt the caress of a warm breath upon the crown of her head and blinked, tilting her head from its blind gaze of the fire in the Trent’s sitting room to Christopher’s understanding smile. “I was off again, was I no’?” The flush of her cheeks enough of a confession.

  “Yes, well….” He offered her forward a cup of tea. “It will be fine, Sara. I promise. Rob and Rachel are glorious with her, comes from so much experience with all their never-ending flow of children at the orphanage. They will spin her head ready for mysteries and adventures… or something, I’m certain of it.”

  Sara teased the lip of the china cup, leaning slightly back in the chair to peek behind him to the open door of the sitting room and into the hallway. “I may promise her whatever her heart desires just so she will no’ cry.”

  Christopher chuckled, drawing out a reluctant smile as she blinked from him to her cup. “Believe me, I completely understand the tack of that statement. It is heart-wrenching to see that little girl cry with disappointment. Of course, I am a bit partial to her giggles and laughter, being her father.”

  A father who took special pleasure in his daughter, the last connection to a first-love. A key to a beloved past—Sara took a long sip of her tea, ignoring the cringe as it burned its way down.

  Christopher turned away from her, coffee held aloft, forgotten, as he viewed the still-empty hallway. “I do believe I hear the jingle of bit and bridle.”

  Sara’s fingers trembled, though her teacup did not betray her. She smiled up at him as he focused on her.

  “Honestly, I feel like a child at Christmas with a surprise. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that excitement made its way to her and she forgave us our impetuousness?”

  A laugh escaped before she realized a bubble of happiness had overwhelmed the whisper of fear. Christopher’s smile broke into a grin. “Oh, my dear Christopher. You canno’ help yourself.”

  “I have no idea to what you refer.”

  She laughed again, standing to embrace him just as the sound of Gwyn squealed from front door to sitting room with barely a pause for the hallway.

  “Papa!” Curls, flounces, and ribbon blurred together as she leaped into his arms. “I finally get to see you!” She flung her arms around him, burying her face into his neck to hide a tell-tale shudder of emotion.

  “I did no’ mean to keep you apart,” Sara said, eyes unable to look away from the re-connect of father and daughter, even though it ushered in a pebble-sized lump in her stomach.

  “I know,” came the girl’s muffled reply.

  Christopher rubbed Gwyn’s back, teasing the lace of her square collar and inviting a withdraw so he could look into her flushed face. “You have been extremely patient and forgiving, Angel Girl, and we both appreciate you very much.”

  Gwyn smiled, shifting her gaze to the act of teasing his tie with her fingers. A delightful expression of embarrassment and pleasure heightened the growing beauty of the girl’s countenance. “I love you, so I couldn’t help it very much,” she admitted.

  “And we love you as well, very much, and that is why we wanted to tell you a secret.”

  She blinked an instantaneous shift to his face, eyes wide. “A secret?”

  “Yes, and you get to keep it to yourself until we get all the way to America later this month.”

  Gwyn released a soft gasp, jaw falling open as she digested the delightful tidbit of information. It was all Sara could do to keep her laughter contained to silence. Then Gwyn leaned forward, gaze shifting from her father to Sara and then back again. “Did you get married without telling Aunt Dix and Nana?”

  Christopher and Sara blinked at the little girl and then broke out laughing. “What? Why would you ask such a question?”

  Rachel and Robert appeared in the sitting room doorway, doffing hats and coats while offering a simple shrug to Sara and Christopher’s inquisitive glance.

  The girl’s countenance softened, gaze retreating back to her fingers as they smoothed his tie. “I want a Mother,” she admitted, her whisper hovering on the broken softness of tears.

  Christopher gave her a gentle jostle, only briefly gathering her attention as Sara came to stand beside them. “I know you do, Angel Girl. You know that is what I want for you more than anything in this world, yes?” Gwyn’s curls slightly shifted with her nod. “For you to be in a happy family again, with a mother and a father and, maybe someday, a brother or sister to call your own. Yes?”

  A tear escaped, though Gwyn’s fingers swiped it away while her eyes fluttered to his and then back to the colors of his tie. “Yes, Papa.”

  Sara rested a hesitant touch upon the girl’s arm, the secret aching within her heart and soul. “Gwyn….” Sara heard the soft click of the sitting room door close as Rachel and Robert enclosed the trio in the silence of privacy, the only other sound the soft crackle of the low fire.

  “You have been very patient, Gwyn. I am proud of how grown-up you are.” Christopher captured the girl’s attention, his lips twitching upward. “That’s why we wanted to tell you our secret. As a matter of fact, the only people who know are Rob, Rachel, Sara, myself, and now you. Will you keep our secret?”

  Gwyn nodded, the eagerness fairly singing in her shallow breaths. “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Excellent.” He sat her on her feet, continuing to hold her small hands in his as he knelt before her. The girl’s emerald eyes widened, unable to look away from her father’s smiling features. “Yesterday, Sara agreed to be your Mother.”

  The girl seemed to wait for something more, then her nose wrinkled and her brows furrowed into a knot of caramel blonde. “But you did that before. Don’t you remember?”

  “When?”

  “You asked her to marry you.” Gwyn giggled. “Silly, Papa. Did you forget?”

  “What? No. No, Gwyn.” His self-consci
ous chuckle made Sara hard-pressed to contain the laughter. “No, Angel, that was a little different. When I proposed, I asked her to be your Mother, yes, and she agreed, but…Oh, well, yes. I can understand the confusion. Poor word choice. Sorry, Angel Girl. I should have said it more plainly. Sara is your Mother, as of yesterday.”

  Gwyn’s smile vanished as she stared at her father. Then she leaned in, slow and deliberate—as if she were afraid any movement might cause her to wake. “What? Sara is…truly?”

  Christopher nodded. Tears glimmered in the girl’s eyes and she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. “Ah. So, you give little care to the lack of a fancy dress or the role of flower girl, then?”

  Gwyn’s voice was lost in her tears of laughter, the reckless abandon of joy that forever defined the little girl’s outlook on life and its challenges. Sara loved her the more for the blind acceptance, even though it left in its wake the sour heaviness of guilt. How much more would her father— Sara shook the thought away, stepping beyond its whisper as she rested trembling fingers upon the little girl’s arm, drawing her gleaming gaze and offering a smile.

  The acceptance. The joy. The clarity of happiness in Gwyn’s expression…in the light of those, Sara saw the reflection of herself. Her past. Her future. Her dreams and moments of wishful wonderings. The prayers whispered outside of her mother’s hearing, when she pleaded for a finish to their little family. Now that she became that finish, she felt another painfully lacking—of her own choosing.

  Sara blinked the burn of tears away, taking up Gwyn’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

  Christopher shifted Gwyn in his arms. “Now it’s up to you to help us keep this secret until we’re ready to confess to the world. We can trust you with that, yes? That’s a good girl.”

  “What about Aunt and Unca Paul? You are going to tell them, too, right, Papa? Unca will be hurt ‘specially if you don’t say.”

  “I know, Angel Girl. You know your papa; I am trying too hard to think of the perfect way to tell them without hurting feelings or getting yelled at.”

  Gwyn giggled. “Aunt doesn’t mean to yell.”

  “I know. She only doesn’t yet realize how passionately she talks at me.”

  The chuckle behind them drew the trio’s attention. Rob and Rachel stood in the sitting room entry regarding them with clear expressions of amusement.

  Rachel stepped forward, extending her arms toward Gwyn, who eagerly transferred from father to adopted aunt. “Your Aunt is a woman who is ruled by her passions, dear one, and one of those passions is the life happiness of your father. Something, I believe, will be settled once she hears this lovely bit of news.”

  “She won’t be angry?” Gwyn asked, her curls bobbing with her slight shake of head.

  “She will be vexed at first, of course, because, as we all know, this is not the way of the world in terms of matrimony and nuptials. But once she sees how happy you are, and your father, and allows the control to pass, she will be more than amiable to how everything finished.”

  Gwyn blinked down at Rachel, head tilted to the side, and then suddenly wrapped her small arms around Rachel’s neck to plant a kiss upon her cheek. “I love you, Aunt Rachel.”

  Rachel laughed. “You mean you love me though you don’t understand a single world I say?”

  Christopher wiped the smile from his face. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. She loves the fact that you speak to her as if she does. You treat her as an adult, and she adores that.”

  “I believe you wish the same from your sister at times, yes?”

  He cleared his throat, shifting his attention from Rachel’s too certain gaze to his friend. “Rob, are you opposed to helping me finalize return arrangements for next week? You mentioned legal documents for Sara’s, well, her inheritance and such, so….”

  The word “inheritance” thudded Sara back to the other side of her reality and the shadows looming over her mother’s history. A doubt she had forever pushed aside with determination. Now there was nothing to be done but face it, daily, and resolve the challenges one by one. She released a long, deep breath as she lowered herself back into the loveseat, her eyes retreating to the half-filled teacup across from her.

  Is this what her mother felt when life’s happiness began to crumble about her? When the lies began to paint a very twisted picture, did she also feel lost in shadow? The warmth of a small hand wrapped around her fingers, drawing her from the maw of questions and into the concerned but happy gaze of a blonde-haired girl who could now call her “mother.”

  Sara’s joy cluttered her throat and burned in her eyes as she drew the girl close, praying with all her soul to love her with her very last breath and give her nothing but happiness.

  Seventeen

  Future’s Strength

  Joseph Conklin thumbed through the paperwork in his brown, calfskin satchel, deliberate in his handling of the documents collected within. He secured the satchel closed and gaged the time before striding down the bustling sidewalk from the solicitors toward the Bank. How he approached this situation would determine everything.

  He would respect the decision made, regardless of his own view of the matter, and see it through to the end. No matter the repercussion, he would stand between them, as he couldn’t for her mother. Regrets would be his motivator, and “I hope Mary understands,” he mumbled, clutching the satchel tightly in one hand as his other hand held his hat firmly upon his head against a sudden gust. But there was nothing to be done but move forward. That she would understand. If she didn’t, it would simply be a further challenge to approach and overcome.

  Joseph quickened his step, maneuvering through the crowd with only the occasional need to tip his hat and vocalize a quick, sincere apology. Then he arrived at the bank and navigated the steps and entry with practiced professionalism, his gaze searching the faces and suits for the one gentleman who would serve his purpose.

  Robert Trent.

  The gentleman in question met Joseph’s gaze and lifted a hand, his expression revealing nothing as to his thoughts on the matter. That there were thoughts to be had he felt certain, if for no other reason than the reputation of the Trent and Samson families in their joint efforts for the less fortunate. Three orphanages and a home for misplaced young ladies of questionable reputation said much for their own hearts, to say nothing of the fact that they now currently chaperoned his daughter and approved of her relationship with Christopher Lake.

  Joseph acknowledged the motion and slightly adjusted his approach to a more direct route. He also immediately noted that Mr. Trent had somehow arranged for a private office. Yes, his initial impression of the man seemed correct. The gentleman knew how to get things done, and in good taste.

  “Mr. Trent.”

  “Mr. Conklin. I hope you don’t mind I took the initiative in procuring us a private office?”

  “No. In fact, I appreciate the thought.” He set the satchel upon the high-back chair, opening and retrieving the documents almost in the same motion. Mr. Trent accepted the sheaf of papers with no comment, lowering himself into the leather upholstered chair while skimming through the contents with sharp regard. Joseph repositioned the satchel onto the floor and took the seat.

  “You are succinct as well as thorough, Mr. Conklin. This shouldn’t take any time at all to finalize.”

  “Excellent.” Joseph leaned one arm upon the table, his eyes narrowing as he continued to regard Mr. Trent’s reading of the documents. “You don’t expect push-back regarding the accrued interest?”

  “Minimal, at best, especially considering the sensitive nature of the subject. No one desires bad press, and I do believe there would be quite a bit should he decide to contest. Additionally,” Mr. Trent set aside the documents and focused on Joseph, unflinching, “Additionally, you have complete and utter power in this endeavor, being a shareholder with his estate. Should he desire a return of the accrued interest, he would be hard-pressed to do so without breaching t
his contract. Quite a predicament.”

  “Hardly.” Joseph motioned toward the documents. “Do what you need to finalize. They have been signed and notarized and require only yours and Mrs. Lake’s signature.” Mr. Trent’s eyebrow twitched upward, but he said nothing as he gathered the documents into a briefcase. “May I inquire if you know of her decision to keep the cottage?”

  “Ah. I believe she and Mr. Lake have gone there this morning with their daughter to make a final verdict, more than likely to that effect. Did you wish me to arrange the accrued interest into an estate fund to help alleviate the burden of costs?”

  “Precisely. Thank you.”

  “You are quite welcome, Mr. Conklin. It is our pleasure, my wife and I. Speaking of which, she was true in her desire to have you for tea. Are you busy this moment? She would appreciate a visit, I feel certain.”

  Joseph gathered up the satchel, smoothing the lock into place as he kept his gaze carefully averted. “While I appreciate the thought, please convey my apologies.”

  “Yes, of course. Completely understand. I hope we shall meet again on the vessel taking us back to America.”

  Joseph’s gaze snapped to Mr. Trent’s unreadable features. “Pardon?”

  “We are returning to our lovely America by the end of this next week. I am to finalize our passage arrangements, actually.”

  “So soon?”

  “Yes, unfortunately. You understand.”

  Joseph inclined his head, thoughts spinning as his heart thudded in his chest. He stood and swiped up his hat. “I must go. Please excuse me.”

  “Certainly.”

  Joseph strode from the Bank, once more gaging the time as he hailed a cab. Would he have time? He clenched his jaw and waved aside the help of the cabbie as he jerked open the black lacquered carriage door and nearly leaped into the cab. "International travel booking office."