Releasing Yesterday Page 2

  "But why? They are wonderful."

  When he glanced toward her, he noticed her expression blossomed from curiosity to a smile. She sighed and lowered her gaze, and the action of wrapping her arm around his seemed ... natural. Christopher drank in the warmth and the delicate profile as she continued forward, slowing their pace and deepening his examination. He wanted to understand why he felt this instinctual friendship. Why they fit together so differently than he and Carla.

  "I love looking at them," she confessed with adorable softness. "It is much like watching you grow. I did no' ever have a true childhood friend," she admitted. "My mum and I moved a bit too much for that, I suppose. But seeing so many in your photographs and paintings made me more able to know what it would have been like. I lived it with you." Sara released a breath, but this time she glanced and met his gaze. His attention caressed her cheeks with rose and laughter.

  The pair stopped just shy of the breakfast nook, Christopher turning more to face her. "Don't let those photographs and paintings fool you. I didn't have many friends growing up. Yes, I had a pack of fellows to run around with at church brunches and museum events or picnics, but they went home and so did I. Paul and Teddy are my only true friends." Christopher nudged her arm with the stack of papers and guided her into the breakfast nook. "And you."

  The glow in her blue eyes shifted, settling into a calm smile that stole his breath and tightened his chest. He pressed his lips lightly against her forehead, his ears reddening with the action. Then he took back the quarterlies and papers with a wink. "These will wait for later." Handing them off to Gregory with a direction to put them safely into the front observatory, Christopher offered his arm and escorted her to the table. "Do you realize this is the first meal we've had to ourselves since I proposed three months ago?"

  "Is it?"

  "Indeed." Christopher pulled out her chair. "I think Dix was getting back at me for encouraging Paul to whisk her and my daughter away to England."

  Sara laughed. "Oh Christopher. Do no' be ridiculous."

  Christopher reached across the table to give her hand a gentle pressure. When he did, her bare ring finger dragged his focus. His smile wavered as he gaped at it. Chris! You didn't get her a ring?

  ~**~

  "Christopher? What is wrong?"

  His face reddened as he met her gaze. "Why didn't you remind me to get you a ring?" No, it wasn't her fault by any stretch of the imagination, but in three months he hadn't yet put a ring on her finger?

  "Christopher." Her cool hand covered his to bestow a simple press, drawing his gaze to her caress of smile. "Christopher, I do no' need a ring."

  "You deserve a ring, Sara." She deserved a lifetime of care and passion. Of tenderness and safety. Security. A ring stood as a promise of all these things. Yes, she deserved all a ring stood for.

  Pulling his hand from hers, he retrieved the chain from around his neck. Christopher stared down at the pair of rings dangling from the chain before undoing the clasp and dropping them into his palm. He retrieved the engagement ring with a slow motion, looking within at the inscription before reaching out to take Sara's hand.

  It fit as if fashioned for her.

  He fingered the ring with his thumb, her hand nestled so perfectly within his grasp. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

  Sara's blue eyes focused on the ring in silence before she released a long breath. "Christopher." She slipped the ring from her finger and tucked it into his palm, the soft kiss of her fingers folding his grip around the small metal. "Christopher, I am no' trying to replace your Carla. I am Sara and I love you, and I will marry you, if you will have a simple girl as your wife." She clasped his hand within both of hers, her eyes wide as they held his searching gaze. "But the good Lord would never ask me to take your Carla's place, and I would never presume to do so. She is the mother of your Gwyn. She is your first love. I canno' ever take her place."

  Heart thudding in his chest, he leaned toward her. "Sara, I don't want anyone assuming lies which slight your person. A ring protects your reputation."

  She brushed the hair at his temples with a gentle caress. "Dear Christopher. Carla's ring is hers alone, and I have no right to wear it. I love you the more for the reason behind the offer, but in my heart of hearts I could no' do such a thing."

  "Sara--"

  Sara shook her head while pressing his hand with hers. "I can wait for the ring I am destined to wear, Christopher, just as I have waited for you." Intensity sang in her voice and glistened in her sapphire-blue eyes.

  Setting the rings and chain onto the table, he could only stare at her as she continued to smile. Again and again she made her own place in his life, as well as in the lives of those around him. Again and yet again she never attempted to take Carla's place. She allowed him to love and remember his first wife without a reason to feel guilty because of that fact.

  "Sara, I--" But what could he say to this woman who understood things he didn't know needed to be understood?

  Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she voiced a quiet, "I know," before focusing on the plate before her.

  Lowering his gaze to his own breakfast, he could only stare, his appetite suddenly lost beneath the roar of the blood in his ears. When he felt her sidelong glance, he cleared his throat and forced a smile as he met her somewhat dark gaze. "I love you," he found himself saying. He blinked and then laughed. "I'm sorry. That wasn't what I intended to say at all," he confessed while giving the back of his neck a scrub. You what? "Oh, erm, not that it isn't true. It was only ... well, I--" Blast it all, Chris!

  "Dear Christopher." Smiling, Sara motioned to his coffee cup and the yet untouched steaming liquid. "You have no' yet had your coffee. Have some and settle your nerves."

  Tension drained from the muscles across his back and shoulders. He pressed her hand against his lips and then rested an elbow onto the table, chin in hand. "I would much rather watch you eat breakfast," he heard himself informing her, immediately feeling the flush reach his hairline as he kept himself from reacting to the fact. You're making a fool of yourself. But when she laughed, he found he didn't care.

  Two

  Beautiful Folly

  "I don't know how long it has been since I made a scrapbook." Christopher set the papers onto the coffee table between the two chairs in the Donovan home observatory. He offered Sara a hand to steady her down to the floor before positioning himself beside her. "No matter. I'm sure it is much like riding a bicycle: hard the first time, and then easy ever after."

  Sara smiled and accepted the first offered paper, sending him stealthy sidelong glances even as she perused the contents for the articles.

  "You have the scissors and paste?" he asked, turning pages within the paper. "Of course, I suppose we could hunt for those after we find the stories. We will need to retrieve the paper and pencils, too. Might as well finish them at once."

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners with her restrained giggle.

  "Gwyn would scold," Christopher continued. "Carla taught her to gather all supplies before the project began, that way you aren't taken by surprise." He turned another page, seemingly unaware of Sara watching him with twinkling eyes and affectionate smile. "I go by the moment. Bad habit learned from painting, I imagine. I never check to see if I have the colors I need. It is far more of a challenge to make due, and I am all for a challenge. Encourages growth."

  "Yes, I suppose it does."

  Christopher ripped an entire newspaper page free and set it aside. "That philosophy sounds similar to what people do for life, doesn't it?" he observed, his tone still off-hand. "Live life by the moment so as not to get distracted by the 'what if's and 'if only's."

  "Indeed." Sara found herself unable to concentrate on her own search for watching his absent-minded discussion and debate.

  "It makes quite a bit of sense, and the only reason I believe that is due to the challenges experienced thus far. As I said, they encourage growth. In the same way, our hardships build character. I
would hate to know a person with an easy life. I don't believe they would be very exciting to speak with."

  Christopher paused, lowering the newspaper a fraction to stare ahead in thoughtful silence. "Although, I suppose that opinion is slightly close-minded. A 'hard' life is relative--all the perspective of the person living it. That and I feel quite certain there are different challenges from one person's life to the next."

  Sara's shoulders trembled with muted laugher as she turned the page of her quarterly. "That is very true."

  He ripped a few more sections from a page and again set them aside. "I have been accused of an easy life, believe it or not. That simply because my parents' family had a successful tobacco plantation in the south," he confided. "But a plantation is hard work. It requires organization, investments, business sense, and a multitude of other talents. My family worked hard to make it successful. Because of the war, they likely wouldn't be as well-provided for as they are if not for my grandfather's instincts."

  "What happened?"

  "Grandfather began making investments into companies focused on freight and cargo--land and sea both. Then, when the brunt of the war came and the plantation was lost to fire, my family had the ability to move here to Richmond. Later, after the war, Grandfather shipped the family to New York and moved his focus to freight and cargo contracts."

  "He owns ships?"

  "Three, last time I knew. Father has had to retire a couple and contract the building of new vessels in the meantime, of course," Christopher informed, setting aside a paper and taking up a quarterly. "He owned a railroad freight line at one time, but it wasn't doing as well as his shipping lines, so he sold it off to a friend. I believe it's doing better now." He smirked. "That put a burr in his britches at first. It was fun to tease him."

  Sara snickered.

  "Father warned he would forcefully train me in the family business if I didn't leave him alone, though I don't know why he would want me in charge of the business. I haven't a head for things of that sort. Art I know. Freight?" Christopher shook his head and turned the page. "I don't understand the supply and demand, or something of the sort. Paul seems to like it, though. I believe he said it was similar to investigating, or some such nonsense like that."

  "What does your sister think of it?"

  "She doesn't mind too much. I suppose Paul has men and their wives over quite often for proposals and lifting morale, or some such nonsense. Dix loves company." He lifted the quarterly and gathered her attention while leaning toward her. "Not a bad sketch of the gallery, eh? I think we should put it with its article." Hazel eyes focused on her face. "What do you think?"

  Sara's cheeks flushed at the warmth of his breath on her face and how it scattered her focus and pummeled her heart. She wordlessly nodded and steadied her hands on the paper as he straightened and carefully ripped the page from the quarterly. Sara peeked at him and nervously tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

  "I tried to get involved before leaving for England those three years, but I made more of a mess than Father thought I would. So, he packed me off to London with Paul." Christopher winked at her. "To keep me out of trouble, you know. I was such a rogue and rebel back then. Wouldn't you believe it?"

  Her lips tilted upward and she shook her head.

  He laughed. "No, I don't suppose you would. Too responsible for my own good." Christopher flipped through another few pages, not noticing Sara's adoring examination. "Speaking of responsible, Teddy and I thought up a display idea for the gallery in New York. He thought it might do wonders for circulation if we were to hold the engagement party on the same night as the display event. Or we can wait until after the wedding in three months and put it on the itinerary of our honeymoon, whichever is more preferable."

  Tears glimmered as she watched the expression of casual conversation on his handsome face, the calm with which he spoke of their marriage and honeymoon inspiring almost an ache of devotion.

  "I'm looking forward to a Fall wedding," he continued, not looking up from the next article he found in Harper's Weekly. "More colors for the paintings. It would also be rather nice to venture to England after the ceremony. There are always threats of storms, but I rather like the villainous colors of the skies on journeys such as those." He met her dark blue gaze. "You would want to spend some time in England after the wedding I assume?"

  Sara nodded, joy very nearly propelling her into his arms. "That would be wonderful."

  Her breathless whisper made Christopher blink. Then he smiled, crimson staining his ears. "How long have I been going on?"

  "I do no' mind. I love listening." At his continued gaze, her breath caught in her throat, the pounding of her heart doing little to ease the flush of her cheeks. She lowered her gaze to the paper in her hands and smoothed a wrinkle.

  He covered her hand and gave it a tender pressure, drawing her eyes. "You are a beautiful listener."

  The smile he offered seemed simple, but it spoke more than any words as to the truth of his feelings. He enjoyed talking with her. He enjoyed being with her. Had she ever experienced such a showing of simple affection from a gentleman?

  He caressed her under the chin, his light touch lingering as his eyes held hers and his lips continued to smile. Sara's eyes glimmered, and she tightly clenched her hands to keep from embracing him. How long had she craved the experience of a relationship like this? But God had always urged her to seek Him. To trust Him. To grow closer to Him so that she would be a whole person, thereby having the most to offer the man who waited. Now she was in love, engaged to a man who far exceeded any previous hopes while meeting nearly all her dreams.

  When the caress of his finger trailed a path of fire along her jaw, Sara averted her gaze and lowered her head.

  "I'm sorry," he said, voice gruff. He scrubbed at the back of his neck.

  Sara held a calming breath before focusing on him. He kept his gaze focused on the quarterly in his hand. "Do no' be sorry, Christopher."

  He balled his free hand into a fist. "Being married before ... it makes the waiting more difficult than I could possibly have imagined."

  "I understand." How could she not when every waking moment seemed a conflict of what she wanted and what her faith demanded?

  Silence descended as he clenched his jaw. His gaze still averted. His breathing deep and deliberate. Sara's heart broke for him, but only because she couldn't comfort him through this struggle, not without giving him, and herself, more to fight through.

  "I don't know what to do, Sara," he confessed. "I don't want to sacrifice time with you now only to make my life supposedly easier. Because how do we grow closer in our relationship if we keep distant in order to withstand the desires?" Christopher let out a fast breath, casting her a glance while rubbing at his neck once more. "But distancing ourselves seems the only way to lessen the struggle."

  Sara watched his profile, still smiling as she realized deep within how willing she was to struggle as long as it meant she did so beside him. Whether it meant only being with him when they were in a crowd of people, or like they were now, chaperoned by Amy and Mary sitting in the next room. Either meant they did their best to learn more of the other. Seeking interests and conversation. Sharing.

  Struggling together.

  Christopher sighed again and shifted to meet her gaze. When he read her expression in the crimson of her cheeks as she quickly lowered her eyes, he smiled and said, "I guess we struggle then. To be honest, I don't mind. Paul would say it proves how much I care. Dix would say it's normal. Teddy would say it's the most fun."

  Sara laughed along with Christopher's baritone chuckle. "Teddy. What a dear he is. I only wish he was no' such a flirt."

  "Teddy not a flirt wouldn't be 'Teddy'," Christopher reminded as he retrieved another quarterly from the pile within the center of the coffee table.

  "I suppose such is true."

  "Of course, the day he takes women seriously is the day we should check the skies to see if the Lord has returned."
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  Christopher grinned, as boyishly attractive as she could ever remember. "He is no' as bad as that."

  "Yes, he is. You're only too sweet to notice." He punctuated the remark with a quick peck on her cheek.

  "You are incorrigible." And she loved him for it.

  Christopher leaned forward to press her hand in his, eyes speaking of the relief and desire even as the grin shifted to a content smile. "Thank God for you, Sweet Sara Ann. Could I have begun living again without your laugh?"

  Her free hand cupped his cheek, the intensity of her love an ache as she caressed the slight roughage of his close-shaved skin. But though she wanted to assure him so many truths, those hazel depths swallowed any words she could offer. He drew her close, burying his face in her neck as his arms pulled her tight against him. Her eyes fluttered closed, skin tingling as her heart threatened to beat from her chest.

  "Dear Lord in heaven, thank you for this woman." His gruff prayer tickled the hair at her nape and tightened her arms around him. "Thank you for her generous spirit, her welcoming heart, and her solid faith. Protect us from folly, Lord, and guide us to our joyful union. Amen."

  Silence draped the corners of the room as they relished the companionship in the embrace. Then Christopher gently retreated, holding her at arm's length as those luscious eyes were drawn to hers. He caressed her forehead with his lips, whispering her name before retreating further. She shivered with the sudden chill, gaze shifting from his handsome profile to the wrinkled pages of the scrapbook as her hand shifted to press against the wild beat of her heart.

  Protect us from folly, Lord. For she knew if folly meant seeing happiness in his gaze for even a moment, she might fall headlong into the pursuit of such.

  Three

  Revisited Journeys

  The day of their journey to New York came upon Sara in a blur. All trunks had been shipped earlier that week, leaving only the bare essentials to be carried in two moderately-sized cases in their private room. Never before had Sara felt such an eagerness to spend the morning traveling, and it flushed her cheeks as she scurried from her room. Christopher crested the stairs to the second floor of the Donovan home with a small bound just as she closed the door.