Alec sat at his desk, papers spread before him. One of the candles guttered, a testament to the lateness of the hour. But it wasn’t the lack of light that kept him from his work.
He was useless.
Since Charlotte’s quick retreat over twelve hours before, he’d not slept. He’d not eaten. His hair had been ravaged by running his hands through it too many times to count. The cup of coffee she had made him sat unfinished and cold, the dark liquid she’d spilled and the broken pieces of her teacup untouched.
A perfect metaphor. His ordered life, now in disarray.
When, where had it all begun? He couldn’t say.
All he knew was that as she’d kissed him, something within him had changed.
Alec was a medical man. A doctor. He’d been educated and trained by some of the best minds in science. Spent years studying the human body and its operations. So, logically, he knew the organ that pumped blood through his body had continued to function since the blow of Nellie’s death. And yet . . .
He could have sworn that as Charlotte kissed him, his heart had started beating for the first time in three years.
Thump.
Thump, thump.
With the beating of his heart had come consciousness. An awakening. A slow awareness of the woman in the circle of his arms. Charlotte—her softness, her loveliness, her poignant kisses. Something warm and velvet had unfurled in his chest, so long suppressed that he hardly recognized it. Desire. It yawned within him, waking after these long years, the sheer power of it breathtaking.
So he’d kissed her back.
The joining of their mouths had been sweet ecstasy. A mix of light, heat, and passion. A blazing trail of discovery in which he was reminded that life was more than drudgery and duty. More than regret and despair. There could be tenderness. There could be beauty.
There could be Charlotte.
And it was that. Reality had crashed over him like a tidal wave of despair. Because no matter how badly he wanted her, there couldn’t be a Charlotte. Or any other woman. No love could hold up under the weight of his regrets with Nellie. No woman deserved a man who was chained to an eternal whipping post. Whose attempts at atonement were nothing compared to the mountain of mistakes he’d made.
He’d been a fool to forget, even for a moment.
So he’d pushed her away.
And he’d tried to stop the beat of his heart. Tried to rebuild the wall that kept him separate from the world. But it was no use. Somehow he couldn’t summon his passionless existence from before.
He was raw and vulnerable and without defense.
A loud bang on the door forced Alec up from the abyss of his thoughts. His gaze shifted to the clock on the mantel. Just after eleven. Another night call meant another night of no sleep. He set his papers aside and rubbed at his eyes.
Three successive bangs resounded so hard they made his front door shake. “Alec, I know you’re in there! I can see the candle burning!”
Liam? At this hour?
Alec was in no state for a visit. He got to his feet, trying to tamp down the river of emotion that ran through him unfettered. It was terrifying, having no walls or barriers to block its path.
Another bang. “Alec! Open up!”
Alec hurried over before Liam broke the door off its hinges. He undid the latch and opened the door. “What has you here at so unholy an hour?” he asked, his voice rough from disuse.
Even in the pale moonlight Alec could see that Liam’s face was dark with anger, his brows bunched low over his eyes.
Liam shouldered the door open and stood in its frame. “Why don’t you tell me, Alec! Am I here because my parents set a place at their table for you tonight, just as they do every Thursday night, and once again, I had to pretend not to notice their disappointment when you didn’t come?”
Alec scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Liam, I’m sorry. I—”
Liam cut him off. “Or perhaps I’m here because Charlotte was on the verge of tears all evening, and I’ve observed enough to know there’s something going on between the two of you.” His voice was louder now, his breaths ragged.
Anger rumbled through Alec. “You’ve no idea—”
Liam shoved him hard in the chest, and Alec stumbled back a step. “Or perhaps I’m here for me! I’ve been back a month, and still—nothing! Not even an offer to meet me for a meal at Elliott’s.” He was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, his face mere inches from Alec’s own. “I told myself you needed time. I gave you your space. But it’s been three years, and nothing’s changed! You know I’d do anything for you—I’d give you my own unbroken heart if I could—but you won’t let me. You won’t let anyone. Just how long are you willing to let the cloud of your grief hang over everyone you love?”
Alec’s own anger was building. He shoved Liam back out onto the porch. “You know nothing of my grief!” Alec followed him, needing air, needing space. Fargo whinnied from the stable.
“Don’t I?” Liam taunted. “I know you use it as a shield, a way of keeping people out! I know it’s easier to bury yourself in it and in your hours of research rather than face the truth of how you felt about Nellie.”
Alec gritted his teeth, fists clenched, his control on the verge of snapping. “Don’t you dare say a word about Nellie,” he growled.
A lock of Liam’s usually perfectly pomaded hair fell across his forehead. “What are you really grieving? Her death?” He met Alec’s gaze with a look of challenge. “Or the fact that you never really loved her?”
Alec’s anger exploded and his fist flew, a sharp crack as it connected with Liam’s cheekbone. Liam’s head snapped back, but within seconds he recovered, head forward, feet apart, as if bracing for another blow. Blood trickled from a small cut beneath the eye that was already beginning to swell.
Alec’s own hand trembled, his knuckles split and bleeding.
“Grieving her loss will not change the fact that you didn’t love her.” Liam touched the rising welt, wincing. “And neither will hitting me.”
All the fight went out of Alec. He let his weight sag against the doorframe. Exhaustion pushed him down until he was sitting on the rough-hewn planks of the porch, the door to his cabin still half open.
Liam lowered beside him, wiping at the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand. Uncomfortable silence hung between them, the only sounds their heavy breathing from spent emotion and the orchestral clicking of cicadas.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself,” Alec said, his throat catching. “For not loving her.”
Liam was silent. He looked older than Alec remembered, now fully a man, his jaw shadowed at the end of the day. Gone was the boy who had followed Alec through the smithy, peppering him with questions and hanging on his every word. Somewhere along the way, Liam had grown up. Matured. Enough to notice the truth that Alec had never dared share with anyone.
He hadn’t loved Nellie.
Theirs had been an auspicious start. Nellie’s father, David Hallewell, had been a close friend of Martin’s and a faculty member at the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Medicine. After receiving a persuasive letter from Martin, he’d been convinced to take a chance on a modest blacksmith with dreams of becoming a doctor.
Alec hadn’t even known David Hallewell had a daughter until he’d been invited, on the eve of his graduation, to a ball where Nellie and her father had been in attendance. When Alec had mentioned their meeting in a letter to Martin, Martin had spoken of the Hallewells in the warmest of terms, strongly suggesting Alec seek a further acquaintance with Nellie. After all Martin had done for him, how could he say no?
It had been a whirlwind of a summer. Alec’s elation at earning his MD. The unexpected invitation to stay on at the university as a professor. And his and Nellie’s hasty courtship, with constant invitations to dinners, balls, and the theater. Those summer nights glittered in his memory—drinks and dancing amongst Philadelphia’s political and social elite with a dazzling Nellie on his arm. Looking back, he knew that sparkle had blinded him to the fact that such a woman, accustomed to living her life at the center of Society, was ill-equipped to become a doctor’s wife in a rugged city like Pittsburgh.
But he’d gotten caught up in the idea of having someone to share his life with as he began his career. And Nellie’s attention had been addictive. She’d sought Alec out amongst a host of suitors who’d clamored for her attention. It was only now that he realized part of what had attracted her was how vastly different he was from other men of her acquaintance. She’d admired his tenacity, the ambition that had taken him from his humble beginnings to a renowned medical school.
In return Alec had adored her. She’d craved being at the center of attention, and he’d been more than happy to give her the stage. She’d needed constant reassurance, and he’d willingly offered it. He’d never dreamed that someone like her, so well-bred and refined, would pay him even an ounce of attention.
But in truth, they’d hardly known each other. It had occurred to him, in the months following their wedding, that rounds of dancing and drinks and dinner might not be the best circumstances under which to find a life partner. That one’s character was unlikely to be revealed on the ballroom floor or in a drawing room. But he’d been caught up in a sort of hazy wonder during their month-long engagement, October wedding, and honeymoon trip to New York City.
Then it was back to Pittsburgh. The look on her face when he’d taken her home to the rustic cabin where he’d been raised had served as a jolt of reality to wake Alec from the dream he’d been living in.
It had only grown worse from there.
He had been fully engaged in trying to build up his medical practice. Nellie had become jealous when his time and attention weren’t solely focused on her, as they’d been before.
During their courtship, she’d been fascinated by his past, the tragedy of his upbringing. But faced with a firsthand knowledge of the modest man she’d yoked herself to, she’d been judgmental of him. She’d turned outward, filling the gaps of his absence with the growing city’s social offerings, becoming the darling of Pittsburgh. He’d been hurt by her cold dismissal and had grown to resent her disinterest in his work.
Instead of growing together in the ten short months they’d been married, they’d grown apart.
Alec knew he looked back on it with a jaded perspective. It hadn’t been all bad. There’d been weekly dinners with the Maganns, whom Nellie adored. Days when there’d been lulls in his work and he’d taken her for drives along the river. Brief pockets of joy that provided glimpses into what might have been a happy future.
But love?
No.
In truth, Alec grieved for what might have been, rather than what was. He liked to think that, given time, it would have come. That Nellie would have outgrown her selfishness, that he would have made her needs a priority.
But he’d been a fool, believing time was an endless commodity. Believing it was Nellie who’d needed to mature into the role of a doctor’s wife. Never even considering taking her back to Philadelphia and building up his practice there. Never contemplating his own selfishness and shortcomings.
He’d now had three years to think of little else.
He would never have a chance to make things right with Nellie. All he could do, all he’d been doing these last years, was trying to atone for his many wrongs. Find the cure for cholera. Live in the constant state of regret he deserved. And never again hurt anyone the way he’d hurt Nellie.
Yet, even in his attempts to make things right, Alec was falling short. He was no closer to discovering the cure for the disease that had stolen her away. In withdrawing himself in the years since, he’d hurt his closest friends, the Maganns. And this morning with Charlotte he’d lost sight, however briefly, of his regret.
The weight of his failures hung heavy.
Liam’s baritone voice broke the silence. “I don’t doubt your regret, Alec. Or the grief it has caused you. But at what point will the debt be satisfied?”
The question pierced him, its tip as pointed as the sharpest arrow.
Was there a way for Alec to repay the debt? Or was it too immense to ever be forgiven? Alec knew the answer he’d be given if he still attended church.
The debt had already been paid.
He shook off such foolishness; there was no peace down that path. He’d quit himself of the habit of expecting anything from God. It was easier when the only person he ever expected anything of was himself.
Alec sucked in a heavy breath and ignored Liam’s question. “I’m sorry, Liam. Sorry for the pain I’ve caused you and your parents.” Remorse filled him as he rubbed at the dried blood on his sore knuckles. “Sorry that I hit you.”
The look Liam leveled at him was cool and measured. He was a great deal like his father, his natural state one of calm control. Which was why it had been a shock to see him so upset tonight. It showed how gravely Alec had wounded him.
Liam sighed. “My parents still love you, you know. They hurt for you. And keeping your distance won’t change that.”
Alec scrubbed at his beard. “I sometimes wish it would.”
The turn of Liam’s mouth betrayed his skepticism. “No matter how many years pass by or how far you retreat, those ties won’t break. You’re a son to them.” He cleared his throat, looking out into the darkness. “And you’re a brother to me.”
To Alec, Liam’s words were as much a threat as they were a promise. Such constancy, such dependability, was not something Alec was familiar with. Life had taught him to expect the worse because that was all it offered.
And the one time he’d been foolish enough to forget it . . .
He’d lost Nellie.
This time the silence was broken by a snort. The pig limped toward the open door, crossed the threshold, and began nuzzling Alec’s leg. He sighed and began stroking the pig’s back, preparing himself for the barrage of questions he knew was coming.
Liam’s eyes went wide. “Is that a splint on the pig’s leg?”
The pig lay down beside Alec, its warmth seeping through his trousers. “Don’t look too closely, but there are some sutures as well.”
Liam laughed. A bright, mellow sound against the darkness of the night. “Have you decided people are too much trouble? Now you prefer patients who don’t talk?”
This was truly humiliating. Alec almost preferred the uncomfortable soul-searching they’d been doing to a discussion about the swine that grunted beside him. “It’s one pig,” he said, defending himself. “A case I took under special circumstances to appease a . . . person of influence.”
“‘A person of . . .’” His voice trailed off, and Alec could practically see his mind working. “Charlotte?” Liam asked with disbelief.
Alec looked away.
Liam guffawed. He stared at the pig sleeping against Alec’s thigh, and wave after wave of laughter rolled out of him.
Much to his chagrin, a slip of laughter escaped Alec as well. The situation was ridiculous. Hard as he tried to keep ahold of it, another chuckle leaked out. Soon Alec had joined Liam, laughter splitting the cool air, their stomachs shaking and faces red. If anyone saw the two of them sitting on Alec’s porch in such a state, they’d be carted off to Bedlam.
Slowly their laughter petered out. Alec had forgotten how much they used to laugh together. Over Liam’s attempts to wield Alec’s hammer. Over the antics of a skunk. Over Alice’s firm rebukes when Liam attempted to cheat at cards. It was now so foreign to Alec that his stomach muscles ached.
“‘A person of influence,’” Liam mused. “Because of her title? Or does her influence have to do with the”—he waved his hand—“something between you?”
Lead filled Alec’s gut as he remembered, still just as tortured by that branding kiss, still just as certain it had been a mistake.
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a good woman, Alec.”
There were too many barriers to name, so Alec stated only the most obvious. “She lives a world away, Liam.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “But I am here. And so are my parents. And Vera. Yet you hedge yourself in, allow yourself no ties.” He cleared his throat, his face stern. “What I came here to tell you tonight is this: I’ll expect you at Thursday dinners from now on.”
Alec opened his mouth to protest, but Liam held up a hand. “No excuses. It’s been long enough, Alec. But beyond that, I’d like to think this”—he rubbed at his swollen eye—“gives me a little leverage. At ten o’clock this Sunday, you’ll also be in the Magann pew at First Presbyterian. I don’t care if you curse God the entire hour. But come for my parents. You’ve no idea what it would mean to them.” He paused, searching Alec’s face. “Yes, there’s more.”
“I didn’t hit you hard enough for there to be more,” Alec protested. But a part of him, a tiny part, felt a hint of relief that Liam cared enough to bring him back. That he wouldn’t have to take these steps on his own.
“You still swing like a blacksmith. There is more.” Liam’s face softened. “I know how little tolerance you have for social events, but you should come to a few of those too.”
Alec squeezed his eyes closed. “I . . . can’t.”
Liam lumbered to his feet and moved to the edge of the porch. The night air ruffled his hair, but he stood firm, his posture resolved. “Perhaps you need to consider the why behind your actions. These past three years you’ve lived your life apart from everyone and everything. But I wonder . . . do you keep yourself detached to protect yourself? Or because you think in doing so you are somehow protecting us?”
With a soft shuffle of his boots, Liam was gone and Alec was left alone once more, with nothing more than a snoring pig for company. The space behind Alec’s ribcage hurt. Much as he wanted to believe it was merely sore from laughter, he knew it was something else entirely.
It was the prospect of facing the past. He’d kept it all at bay for so long, locking away the memories and emotions that had caused such wrenching pain. And he had managed life that way.
Survived.
Endured.
But Liam demanded more. Liam expected him to go through the motions, if not for himself, then at least for the sake of others. Could Alec do it? Could he walk into church because he cared for Alice and Martin? Attend a dinner here and there for Liam?
Once again he was back by the stove in his cabin, the room flickering with firelight, Charlotte’s hand pressed against his chest, against the very place his heart resided.
Why, when Alec thought of attempting the things Liam had asked of him, was it the image of her face that first came to mind?