Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Andrew read the letter in his hand once again, though he knew it by heart he had read it so many times. Lucy’s words jumped at him from the page, and he wished she could be here to tell her of her time with her parents.

She had visited her sister, having spent four days with her and her family, and now she and Hannah had returned with her mother to the family home. Apparently, she was quite taken with her niece and nephew, for she wrote pages about how wonderful they were.

His eyes reread the last line as he spoke the words aloud, “I know I have caused you pain, and for that I am terribly sorry.”

How could she have thought her condition caused him pain? Granted, the situation was not one for which he would have hoped, but it did not keep him from loving her. Yet, what words could he possibly speak to express this that he had not already spoken? Nothing but joy had he felt at the fact she had lived when the chances of her dying had been so great. However, her missing from their home is what muted his joy. He only wished for her to return to him, and soon. If she was here, they could make plans as to how to make this marriage work for the two of them.

Setting the letter aside, he breathed deeply to calm his nerves. He left the study and walked toward the foyer. As he passed the dining room door, he stopped and glanced at the empty table. It seemed an eternity had passed since Lucy had refused to eat at that table, and now that she had finally agreed, she had found yet another excuse to be kept from his company.

He sighed and continued down the hall and up the stairs. He entered her room and leaned against the bedpost. How many nights had he spent sleeping in that chair? How many times had he heard her moan in her sleep only to awaken with a start? He had kept this from her, for he knew it would only upset her further. When he looked at the bed, empty as if it was awaiting its owner’s return, his thoughts returned to the night she had dreamed of her accident and how he had lain in bed with her, their hands clasped together. For the first time since her accident, he felt he had somehow protected her in some small way.

“Tomorrow is a new day, and no matter what it brings, we shall face it together,” he whispered as if an echo of the words he had spoken to her that night. He held onto those words as if they would keep him afloat when life threatened to pull him under and drown him. The house seemed so empty without Lucy, and it was as if the walls were closing in on him. Perhaps a walk through the gardens—a bout of fresh air—would help clear his mind. When he returned to the foyer, Mason approached almost immediately.

“I will need my coat, Mason,” Andrew said, and the man went immediately to collect it. When Mason returned, he helped Andrew don the dark, heavy coat and then Andrew stepped out into the cold, chilling air. At first, Andrew thought the droplets he saw were rain, that is, until he recognized the collection of small white dots on his coat sleeve. Snow, a rare treat this time of year, but pleasing nonetheless.

Careful not to slip on the steps, he made his way to the garden. The barren hedges already had a light dusting of snow, but with the warm days that had accompanied autumn, very little had accumulated on the ground as of yet.

The light breeze whipped around him and he pulled his coat in tighter in an attempt to keep the cold from chilling him to the bone as he continued his stroll. Everywhere he looked, images of Lucy appeared, as if her ghost walked these grounds. What a silly thought! She was not dead, she was only away—far away. However, she had been far away for some time now, since she awoke after her accident, still the same woman and yet not.

Why had his plan to recreate their courtship not produced the expected results? For, if she truly had loved him when they married, which he had no doubt whatsoever that she had, their love should have taken the same path it had back then. So many indications his plan was working had surfaced, repeating almost to the word and action her reactions to the path they had taken through town. How had everything gotten so confused? What had he done differently, other than love her more now than he had then, to have possibly lost her forever?

What foolish thoughts. No, Andrew had not lost her. Deep inside, at the roots of her soul, Lucy loved him still, and he would never give up until she either remembered the love they once shared, or he made her fall in love with him once again. For a love such as they shared could never disappear, not if it was meant to be. And Andrew had no doubt that their love was their destiny.