Releasing Yesterday Read online

  "You look happy," he said, unsurprising that his voice sounded gruff.

  She met his gaze for a moment. "I am," she whispered, the truth of it choking her voice. She reached out suddenly to cover his hand, holding his gaze this time. "I did no' know happiness such as this existed for someone like me."

  "You do not realize how often I have whispered a similar sentiment myself." He brought her hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he relished the warmth and silky softness.

  Sara choked back a sob and embraced him, pressing her cheek against the mild roughness of his cheek as his arms surrounded her and drew her closer still. She embodied so many dreams found and prayers answered.

  ~**~

  Sara's soul sang with the reality of her engagement, one she never thought possible. Yes, her friends had urged her to marry "one of those wealthy Americans" reputed to have a fetish for English ladies, but the prospect of purposefully entrapping a husband had turned Sara's stomach.

  Yet now she found herself with a beau and a new family. Her joy at the future was inexpressible. Incomprehensible. A miracle. A blessing. A thousand different things while being just one: an engagement. As they rode home from the jewelers bathed in content silence, Sara found her heart spiraling downward. Wondering if something horrific waited just beyond the glow of happiness. That, even this bit of joy would somehow become tainted.

  Please, Lord. Keep us in the palm of Your hand. Guide our steps. Light our path. Keep us close to Your wisdom and wonder. She could not bear to lose this one strength.

  "Why are you crying, Sara?"

  She brushed the tears away, fingers shaking almost beyond her control. How could she explain the life of a servant girl seldom experienced the "happily ever after" without an excessive compromise? How did she make him understand that servant girls must think about security and not love, entertaining little hope of achieving both?

  Christopher gathered her face into his hands, this thumbs caressing the tears from her cheeks. "Happiness glimmers in those sapphire eyes, Sweet Sara, yet--" Hesitation closed his mouth as he continued to regard her. Then he reached behind them to slide back the window leading to the driver. "Patrick, we would prefer to walk the remaining way. Do you mind?"

  "Of course not, Master Chris." The carriage jostled to a halt, the door opening a few moments later. Patrick doffed his cap. "Can I trudge the carriage along behind you?"

  "If you like." But Sara could clearly hear the absent-minded intent of his tone as he helped her from the carriage. He tucked her hand into the nook of his arm, caressing her fingers as he continued forward, saying nothing. He only exuded comfort and stability as she walked along beside him, unable to give voice to the guilt pressing at her.

  Then those hazel eyes met hers and she wanted nothing more than to simply be happy. "There is a darkening of fear in your eyes. Or perhaps pain? Are you ... do you care to talk about what troubles you?"

  Sara forced her gaze away, every confession vying for attention and cluttering her throat with eagerness, anxiety, and more tears. She hated allowing him to see her like this, especially when it obviously upset him. "I...." But what could he do? He couldn't change her past, and it was up to her to take hold of her future without regret.

  "We, all of us, have doubts we fight with each day," Christopher said, his voice soft and soothing. "The challenge is to not allow them sway but, instead, to lean on others. You taught me that. So, if there is anything this fool can do to help you through your battle, please do not hesitate to call for help."

  Sara couldn't look away from his profile, the afternoon sun dancing like pleasant shadows across his handsome features. What would speaking of it do other than bestow upon him a feeling of helplessness? "Christopher...."

  "There is no need for you to struggle alone." His gaze met hers and then drifted forward again. "I want to be here for you as you were for me. As you still are, even now. If you need strength, let me be that strength. If you need encouragement, let me speak that for you. Do not believe for one instant that you are alone in this. I won't allow you to be alone ever again."

  Sara stumbled to a halt, her fingers tightening on the warmth and firmness of his arm. Burning eyes focused on the sidewalk at their feet, two sets of shoes a blissful object for a future image. "Thank you," she whispered, unable to step forward until he covered her hand with his.

  Five

  A Proper Proposal

  The evening of the engagement party came at last. To Sara, each day consisted of equal parts agonizing slowness and harrying quickness. She had involved herself with the planning and setup as much as she could, utilizing the busyness to help her keep the thoughts of the surging desires at a comfortable distance. Now, though exhaustion teased the corners of her mind, she felt a rising eagerness for the event to commence.

  Her engagement party.

  Sara stared at herself in the mirror with wide eyes. The soft luminance of the kerosene lanterns glimmered in their blue depths, enhancing the emotion dancing across her face. The royal blue of her gown heightened the porcelain fairness of her skin and the glow of love in the rose of her cheeks.

  Amy stepped into the room from the walk-in closet, a white chinchilla wrap and white elbow-length gloves in her hands. “I just saw your mister drive up. He’ll more than likely be waiting in the observatory.”

  “Thank you, Amy.” The hush of Sara's voice drew a knowing smile from Amy as she helped her into the wrap.

  She gave Sara's shoulders a squeeze and then left the room with the excuse of checking on their guest.

  Sara slowly blinked, her focus shifting to a still-empty finger. But soon it would have a ring. She remembered a proposal surrounded by flowers. Remembered a whisper of love and the feel of his lips upon her skin. Closing her eyes, Sara shielded her mouth with a trembling hand as her eyes burned with tears of joy.

  Sara Ann. The gentle whisper of her mother drifted through her memory. Never keep a gentleman waiting overlong.

  Nodding, Sara took in a deep breath and wiped the moisture from her cheeks as she turned from the mirror. Her heart pounded each step down the hall and stairs, knowing he waited. Knowing tonight he would proclaim to the world the permanence of their relationship. That he desired a union of marriage, with her, a maid and orphan. Sara choked out a laugh, the sound drawing Christopher from the observatory with the same elegance as the evening of his display.

  How long ago that seemed.

  Christopher was more handsome than ever in his three-piece suit of the darkest navy, his hazel eyes filled with an expression she never thought she would see: adoration. As he stepped forward to meet her at the foot of the stairs, he took her hand in his and pressed the palm to his lips. “Good evening,” he greeted huskily.

  Sara flushed and lowered her gaze, unable to voice a return for the pounding of her heart.

  “You look....” He cleared his throat and pressed her hand with his. “You take my breath away, Sara.”

  Sara dipped into a slight curtsy, though she immediately felt ridiculous.

  Giving the knuckles of her hand a kiss, Christopher motioned into the observatory. “May I ... may I talk to you for a moment before we leave?”

  Her eyes widened as she met his gaze, following him into the observatory without a thought or hesitation. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no,” he said quickly. “Not a thing." He motioned to one of the wing-back chairs and then pulled the opposite closer. “Have a seat.”

  As Sara lowered herself into the offered chair, she continued to watch his expression, especially as he sat on the edge of the chair across from her. Then Christopher retrieved a velveteen box from the pocket of his suit coat and opened it. The ring from the jeweler was nestled inside. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest to quiet its rumble.

  “I originally intended to present this at the party tonight.” He scrutinized the ring, tilting the box this way and that to make the diamonds wink. “Then I thought something much more ... intimate,”
he said, clearing his throat, “would be ... preferred.”

  Christopher cleared his throat again, and Sara's expression softened as she recognized the flustered and somewhat nervous tone of his voice.

  “A question as important as ‘Will you marry me?’ should never be posed in an environment like what it was,” he continued. “Impromptu and so ... absent-minded. Well, at least not in my opinion." Christopher glanced to her and then back to the twinkling gems of the ring. “It isn’t that we don’t have an understanding, or that the proposal wasn’t just as heartfelt, but you should have had the ring to make it more ... official ... or something.”

  Love and adoration settled into every corner and wrinkle of her soul as she watched his absent-minded fidgeting with the velveteen box. Each day she loved him more. On these days, when he let her see the more carefully guarded sides of his character, love surged with compassion and an overwhelming desire to share the rest of her life with him.

  Mumbling something unintelligible, he retrieved the ring from the velveteen box and placed the box somewhat heavily onto the seat behind him. When his eyes finally met hers, he laughed. “So much for a suave and sophisticated proposal. Again.”

  Sara caressed his cheek. “Dear Christopher.”

  “I seem to put too many expectations on myself, don't I?” He gathered her hand from his face and gave it a tender pressure.

  “What did you say once? ‘Artists are their own worst critics?’ ”

  He chuckled. “It seems I was right on more than one front, which doesn’t happen often.”

  “Only because Teddy does no’ admit when he is wrong.”

  “I'll be sure to tell him you said that.”

  Sara giggled.

  Christopher held her gaze as his thumb performed its usual caress of the back of her hand, his boyish smile fading to one she had come to recognize and love more than she thought possible. He lowered his gaze to her hand, his finger teasing the ring. "I told you before that I love you. At times I am taken aback at just how deeply I care for you." A sigh colored the slowly rising tension in the room. “Does that make sense? I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter."

  She leaned forward, searching his gaze with hers, “It matters to me.”

  The smile returned. “I know it does, my dear." He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. “This is why I wished you to know. I have lived a long time in the past and, now that I am stepping forward, I am not certain what to expect. Not certain what waits for me. For us. All I know is it is time for me to move on. To step into a future that, for the first time in a long time, I actually look forward to. With you.”

  The words settled deep, bringing to mind a much more haunted countenance… Sara clasped his hand, her smile dancing upon her heart.

  “So, without further ado..." Christopher lifted the ring, the sparkle of the diamonds attracting her eyes. “Sara Ann Little, will you make me a less tortured soul and marry me?”

  She nodded while whispering a melodious and happy, “I will.”

  Christopher slipped the ring onto her finger and brought it to his lips. “I will do my best by you."

  Sara leaned into his embrace. “I love you so much, Christopher.”

  A slow sigh caressed the air as Christopher’s arms tightened around her. Then they both pulled back, each smiling softly at the other as their gazes held. Sara had never seen eyes like his, so full of emotion and yet making her feel as if she were the only person in the world. Neither had she ever felt as safe with a man as with him. From the first day she had seen his strong and steady handwriting outlining her the way to America she had felt safe. Protected. Cared for.

  Christopher lifted a hand to caress her cheek, the light touch causing her eyes to flutter closed while his gruff whisper of “How much I love you,” set her heart to singing. Then, so softly that at first she didn't think she heard, he asked, “Sara ... may I kiss you?” in the same low voice as before, his breath already kissing her face and hair.

  No one had ever asked to kiss her. They had only ever tried to take it, taking with it her freedom to give something as simple and yet as special as a kiss to the man she chose. Christopher asked, constant in honor and the thought to her reputation, and causing her to love him even more deeply. “Yes, Christopher, you may,” in a voice she could hardly recognize through the tears of joy.

  The first caress of lips seemed a mere whisper, the warmth sending emotions rippling through her like a storm. Then the pressure of his lips firmed, his strong arms drawing her closer as the intensity swelled. Thoughts scattered, melted away by the overwhelming desire to share every last, hidden part of herself with this man she trusted with every fiber of her being. Trembling, gentle fingers cupped her face and he kissed her again, the husky whisper of her name barely heard through the roar of unexpected passion.

  Is this what it meant to truly and wholly love a man?

  Christopher slowly freed her lips from the heady language of desire and whispered her name. Several moments passed before she could gather enough sense to open her eyes. Christopher's dark gaze was there to meet it, watching her reaction with ... hesitancy.

  “We should go,” he said in a low, odd voice.

  Silently nodding, Sara accepted his help to stand. He then escorted her from the room to the hall where he helped her into her favorite wool coat. Scarves were wrapped, hats and gloves were worn, and then the two stepped out into the early evening air. Christopher and Sara remained quiet as Patrick opened the carriage door and then closed it behind them.

  Christopher enclosed her gloved hand in his, giving it a squeeze while smiling somewhat hesitantly down at her beside him. Sara offered him a return before resting her head against his arm, never realizing before that such a simple gesture could flow so warm and so deep.

  ~**~

  “Chris?”

  Christopher and Sara turned, their laughter drifting into the party air within the Gallery's dining hall. “Rob! Rachel!" Christopher stepped toward a couple who epitomized elegance and beauty. "I didn’t know you were coming!"

  “How could we miss such an important announcement?” The blonde woman arched one slim eyebrow, the action heightening the intelligence sparkling in emerald eyes and the natural beauty of her cream complexion. Dressed in a simple gown of burgundy satin, she was a perfect match of elegance and sophistication with the tall, dark-haired man standing so at ease beside her.

  The pair were destined for canvas.

  “Chris, of course we wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He clasped Christopher’s hand with both of his, the smile on his darkly handsome face heightening his dramatic good looks and twinkling in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Rachel and I made arrangements the moment we received Teddy's message.”

  “I’m so very glad you did. I wasn’t certain you would get the invitation in time; the decision to shift the party to the City being rather last minute." Christopher sent Sara an encouraging smile as he extended a hand. “Rob. Rachel. I want you to meet my fiancée. Sara?" She slipped her hand into his, receiving the assuring squeeze with a timid return. “Miss Sara Ann Little, this is Robert and Rachel Trent. They administrate a pair of orphanages in Boston and work with the gallery.”

  “Though not recently,” Rob said, offering forward a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Little, and might I say ‘Congratulations.’ Heartfelt.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, voice hushed as she accepted his hand. The grip was gentle and brief, but his smile remained encouraging and welcome.

  Another hand was presented within Sara’s line of vision the same moment a lovely voice asked, “Are you, perchance, the mysterious S. A. L. on display throughout? I noticed the artwork is different than what you displayed in the past, Christopher.”

  Sara peeked toward Christopher, intercepting his wink.

  “Rachel,” Rob complained, chuckling, “you promised you would wait.”

  “I only posed a simple question.” Rachel's focus snapped to Sara, who lowered
her gaze before she could stop herself. She accepted the lady's grasp, surprised at the warmth and gentle nature of the pressure. “I apologize if I seem too forward. I have never been patient for the revelation if I believed I knew the answer.”

  “It is fine.” Sara only briefly intercepted Rachel’s gaze. The lady offered an easy smile, and Sara felt the tension begin to melt.

  “Ah. You have been bestowed a smile, Miss Little." Then Rob surprised Sara by pressing his lips against his wife’s temple, in plain view of all.

  Rachel responded with a smirk, quickly hidden by an ornately painted, black lace Parisian fan. “Robert, behave.” She focused again on Christopher. “I was saddened to hear of Carla and your baby, Christopher, and our prayers have constantly been with you.”

  Christopher inclined his head, his gaze lowering to his tumbler of punch while his smile grew forced. “Thank you, Rachel. I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “I only wish we could have come to offer more,” she said, Sara feeling the lady’s gaze several times, and each time longer than the one previous. “But Robert felt certain we would have served as salt to a wound. I suppose I understand the reasoning, but I feel we didn’t do our best to make certain.”

  Christopher finally lifted his eyes, the smile somewhat less forced and greatly relieving Sara’s heart as she continued to watch his profile. “Thank you. Both. Your condolences and cards on holidays were enough. Be sure to tell Hank that Gwyn and I enjoyed his notes and clay-works. He’s quite good.”

  When Rachel opened her mouth to speak, Rob rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let the subject change,” he said in a low voice. Then, to Christopher, “We will. He’s with us, though not this evening. We promise we will bring him sometime within the next few days. Is that acceptable? He wants to play with Gwyn something fierce.”

  Christopher chuckled, and it was then Sara realized she held her breath. She released it slowly as she peeked at his profile. “Unfortunately, Gwyn is on her own adventure in England with Paul and Dix, though she has been asking why she hadn’t received something from Hank recently. She will be vexed that her adventure caused her to miss a play date. I believe she had an art book she wanted to show him.” Sara felt Christopher’s brief touch on her back and flushed as she looked up to meet his smiling gaze. “Sara has done wonders for Gwyn’s ability, and yes, she is the mysterious S. A. L., Rachel.”