Sara stared at the pearl drop necklace as it lay within her palm, the simple silver strand tangled within the gold ring which once belonged to her mother. No thoughts would venture forth from the shadows and fog in her mind. Her eyes closed as her fingers curled in upon the duet of jewelry, holding it close to her heart as she attempted to keep the questions at bay. A tap upon her door from the vessel's hall jostled her mind from its reverie. She peeked out and into the smiling features of Christopher Lake.
"Are you ready?" He presented a sketchbook by way of reminder. "We are about to arrive at port, and I thought you would want to commemorate the event?"
"Oh, yes!" She snatched up her own sketchbook and pencils and eagerly followed after him, looping his arm with hers. When she caught him peeking at her, she smiled. "Yes?"
"You … it is good to see you in higher spirits. Eagerness to see your once home agrees with you," he admitted softly, the flush covering his neck and ears even as his eyes held hers.
She held his gaze, the corners of her lips quivering upward. "I am only that eager to show you the England I have held so close to my heart."
He cleared his throat and looked away, the red migrating upward to his hairline. "It would be unwise for you to continue to regard me with such … affection, Miss Little."
She laughed, and relished the warmth which settled deep within at a return of the better side of her nature.
"You laugh, but do you truly not understand how challenging it has been to not persuade the Captain to perform a wedding ceremony for us during this voyage?" His gaze flicked to hers and away again.
Her smile did not fade nor retreat at such a romantic notion.
"And Rob has done little to help persuade me from it. Only my own conscience and sense of propriety has held such a rash action to the wayside."
Sara could just imagine Robert Trent listing the positives to the argument Christopher waged with himself. Rachel as well. "Would it be so horrible?"
He blinked at her, his step faltering to a stop. "What did you say?"
"Would the Captain marrying us be so horrible?"
"Well, er, that is, of course not, but I thought you wanted a grand wedding in a lofty setting. Or, rather, at least at the chapel by The Gallery Lake with a reception at the Gallery afterward. Or did I not ask you about that?" A confused scowl shadowed his face as he thought back, distraction an attractive addition to his features.
Sara caressed his cheek with her fingertips, the warmth drawing his mind back with an almost audible snap. "I want to be your wife. What does it matter where we are wed, Christopher?"
He gathered her fingers and pressed them to his lips. "When you gaze up at me with sapphire eyes, Sweet Sara… " The velvet gruffness sent a shiver from toe to head, her knees unsteady and causing her to sway toward him.
But the halls were not their own.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, reluctance presenting in the slow release of her hand. "Come along, Sweet Sara. We should hasten on deck before we begin an act which is better put off for a bit."
Sara nodded while fanning herself with her hand.
Christopher cast an aside glance moments before gathering up her hand again and tucking it into the nook of his arm. "Perhaps Rob is wiser than I first gave him credit?"
"Yes?"
"He accused me of being foolish to not set an earlier date for the wedding. That the ardor will only build, thereby making the waiting all the more challenging." His gaze remained diligently forward, though the redness of his ears confessed to his attitude regarding the subject matter. "No offense meant to my Carla, but the waiting for the wedding day didn't present a problem. With you, however…." He cleared his throat.
Her fingers trembled, and she tightened their press upon his arm. "I…." But she held no experience in beaus and bedding. She knew only that she loved this man, desired him more each day, and the intensity of that frightened her.
"Perhaps we should sit down and speak with Rob and Rachel about it this evening once we've settled ashore? Yes?" Sara nodded. "A bit awkward of subject matter, since you've known them for such a small amount of time. Well, you can think on the matter and give me your answer a bit later, although you just nodded assent." Christopher's chuckle sounded a bit forced and uneasy. "Now I do believe I am giving too much thought to facts beyond my control. It happens when I get nervous, er, or something."
"I love you so much," she whispered, the smile a caress upon her soul and heart.
Christopher laughed. "And I love you, though I don't understand why my rambling would make you say that."
She couldn't help but giggle. "Because you make me feel better about my own bit of nervousness. You understand how silly I feel, and that eases my heart."
"You?" He blinked down at her. "Why would you feel silly?"
"Because I have no notion what to do with a beau." She flushed the moment the admittance was spoken.
His features relaxed. "You give yourself too little credit, Sweet Sara. One of the most desirable qualities about you, in addition to the obvious, is your instinctual ability to make me feel loved. Respected. Accepted. Wanted. All these and more." He leaned close and kissed her, softly, gently, while ignoring the steward passing them on the other side of the hall. "In all honesty," he whispered, "you already act as a wife. Perhaps this is why I wake each morning and suffer a moment of confusion as to why you are not beside me?"
Sara thought she might melt away at the continued warmth of his presence, the soft caress of his breath near her ear, the frantic thud of her heart…. Her eyes fluttered closed and it required every ounce of fortitude to keep from drawing closer.
A throat cleared behind them, springing them apart like a catapult. Rob and Rachel shared a knowing smirk, though Rachel hid hers behind a gorgeous silk painted fan.
"Good day, you two," Rob quipped. "I see the adventure has begun a bit early since last night's resolve."
"Spare me," Christopher grumbled. But then he laughed. "Yes, yes, it is all grand fun and what-have-you, but I swear I had no ulterior motive when I slipped from the cabin without letting you know where I headed."
"At least none that you would admit to yourself."
Rachel tapped her husband upon the arm with her fan, her emerald eyes smiling though her features were smooth with calm. "Behave, Robert."
"Yes, dear, but you know quite well he doesn't mind. Chris. Is that not right? You feel accepted when I cajole and carry on."
"Well, I suppose I feel included at least. Is that the same thing?"
Sara smiled at the trio. The way they teased each other definitely made her feel a part of the group, and when did she ever have that before meeting these glorious people? Before there was usually only one other she felt she could trust herself with. But never before an entire group.
Rachel looped her arm around Sara's and drew her forward. "Come along, dear heart, I wish to make a nuisance of myself to you."
Sara laughed. "Yes, mum."
"Wonderful." She allowed a sidelong glance before speaking again, and Sara felt the impact of that look clear to the back of her stomach. "I must admit there is a portion of the situation with your mother and this mysterious will which worries me. Something waits."
Sara blinked at her.
Rachel waved it aside. "Ignore me, dear heart. Robert has mentioned I am in odd spirits this morning, and I'm not so certain it doesn't have something to do with the fact I have been up most of the night with dear Hank. The voyage has not agreed with him, though the dear has been more than brave."
Sara inclined her head, grateful for the encouragement to set the troublesome concern aside. She did not feel ready even in the slightest for whatever wait down life's well-journeyed road and, for a little while, she would prefer to simply act the part of a maiden in love. Whether or not that action was wise fell beyond her caring at the moment.
She intercepted Christopher's fetching smile and returned one of her own, eagerness to spend time with him swelling within and causing her fingers to tremble hold of her sketchbook. Perhaps speaking to Rachel regarding an earlier wedding ceremony was not such a frivolous thought? Rachel intercepted Sara's glance, inviting a wave of crimson.
The woman smiled that serene, small curve of lip which Sara began to view as comforting. "Yes, dear heart, once we have settled ourselves, we will speak of a great many things, none the least of which will be the relationship between you and your fiancé who is attempting to gather your attention."
"Oh." Sara turned, meeting Christopher's gaze and awkwardly noting Robert Trent's hidden chuckle. "You … I did no' hear."
"It's quite all right, Sweet Sara. Rob made the fantastic suggestion of approaching the Captain with a request to view our entrance into port from that vantage. What say you?"
Sara clapped her hands. "Oh! That would be more wonderful than I could imagine."
"Excellent." Christopher looped her arm around his and led the way. "Your expression and response will make it worth the awkward agony of the asking."
They all laughed.
~**~
She felt torn, the taut line of her features served as a clear confession. As the vessel approached port, further revealing the layers of her one-time home, Christopher couldn’t help but catalog her micro-reactions.
The dip and rise of her eyebrows.
The tense and release of her hand upon his arm.
The tease of teeth upon rose lips and the immediate caress of a smile.
Life had dealt her hard lessons, softened only by her resolve to hold to their blessings. Now, after being separated from their harsh realities for a year, how did she deal with her return? The possibility of opening a door to her mother’s past.
Christopher released a slow breath, shifting his focus to the work of the crew as they prepared the vessel for disembarking. Rachel Trent, as usual for her, performed her own survey of his and Sara’s reactions to their arrival. Whether she would comment immediately remained at her whim, for there really was no way to know—at least, not for him.
Rachel did not easily sway to the pull and push of emotions, one of the reasons he respected her opinions in matters too close to his own heart.
“How close to the place of your childhood?” Rachel posed the question in her calm lilt, focus carefully averted.
The words didn’t permeate Sara’s internal reverie, likely another fact cataloged by the woman for later review.
Christopher felt a tug at his other sleeve and shifted his attention to the upturned, roundness of Henry Trent. His cheeks carried more color than on previous occasions, a fact which relieved his father-trained heart. “Yes, Hank?”
“Did you say Gwyn would be here?” The boy blinked up at him in curious expectation, trolling his own memory for the exact conversation.
He tousled the boy’s hair. “Certainly you can’t have missed her. Doesn’t she follow you around very much like a puppy and then order you to play and do artsy things with her?”
Hank dutifully straightened his hair, casting an aside glance which reeked of the scolding he desired to offer.
Chuckling, Christopher gave the boy a squeeze upon the shoulder to try and settle his ire. “While I don’t know if she will be at the place where we come ashore, she is definitely here in England. In fact, I believe your mother and father made some arrangements for you to stay with Paul and Dix and Gwyn while Sara stays with them. How does that suit you?”
“Truly?” Hank blinked up at him, the excitement sparkling across his features.
“You have my word. So, is that acceptable?”
The boy’s answer consisted of a tight hug and then excited chatter to his mother and father as Christopher shifted his attention to Sara for a quick update of her attitude. A soft serenity had fallen over her. Your presence is all you must offer, he reminded himself. Unless she specifically requested his insight on a matter, any matter, his only role stood as her silent strength. The fact ate at his desire to act, to repair, to do something which would push the resolve forward—whatever it would serve to resolve, he did not yet fully understand.
Sara’s fingers upon his arm tightened their pressure, drawing his focus as he slid a smile into place. So many years of entertaining when he did not care to do so had their benefits, apparently. “Are you ready to venture forth?” he asked, an encouragement to adventure, to rally, to … do something other than dwell on the questions and possibilities.
She inclined her head, her whisper of a smile setting his mind on a merciless spin downward into the questions of how to settle her heart. He pushed it aside and covered her hand with his. “Rachel, Rob, Hank? Are you ready to set foot onto this next stage of our adventure? I don’t know about you, but something on the other side of that gangplank is tugging on my attention.” Something of her father and mother, to be sure.
“A delightful notion.” Rob offered his arm to Rachel, who in turn gathered up her son’s hand. “Shall we, Ange?”
“Yes, I think we shall.”
Christopher lingered beside Sara, a press of her hand the prelude to guiding her still-distracted self from the spectacular vantage of their arrival toward the main deck and the site of their exit.
“Christopher?”
The whispered inquiry drew his focus, though her gaze continued to focus beyond even where her eyes could see. “Yes?”
She blinked and shifted her profile, finally meeting his gaze with eyes which mirrored uncertainty and determination. “Could we, perhaps, stop at my mother’s grave before...?”
Before anything, everything, nothing. There could be no way to know what waited for them at the solicitors. “Of course. Shall I ask Rachel and Rob to go on ahead?”
“No, I….” She worried her lower lip, gaze retreating as her fingers tightened their press of his arm. “I can go alone later.”
“Sara…”
“No, it is fine. I do no’ wish to put everyone off, and we have but a bit of time before obligations will whisk us away….”
“Sara, the journey is yours more so than it is ours. We simply wish to be present as your support, your friends, whatever you have need of at the moment. If you would like to stop by your mother’s grave, we will do so without hesitation.” How often had he himself ventured to Carla’s grave as he attempted to swallow the reality of her passing?
A trembling hand swiped away a tear as she nodded, not even trusting her voice to a simple response. Christopher pressed a kiss upon her forehead and then once again drew her forward.
~**~
Sara brushed the debris of moss and leaf flakes from the inset lettering of her mother’s name. Christopher’s breath was the only sound on the still air. “Hello, mama.” The breeze almost stole her choked whisper.
Words by the score threatened to overwhelm her, leaving her soul aching and lost. The scuff of Christopher’s shoe upon the gravel path the only sound which jerked her back from the black maw of a tumultuous downward spiral. Her fingers grasped for his hand when it rested upon her shoulder.
She sent him a smile, painfully aware of the quick collapse of her lips. Blurred vision focused again on her mother’s name. “This is Christopher Lake, mama, my fiancé.” A tremble of a laugh tickled the air, and Sara felt thankful that the promise of their union could still break through the darkness which continuously rose. “It has finally come to me, mama, the love you told me to always pray for.” Her voice drifted, stolen away by a sudden gust and the shuddering wave of grief and regret.
“I love your daughter very much,” Christopher said, the hushed offering soothing and comforting. “You did fine with Sweet Sara, Ms. Little. Very fine indeed.”
“Is he no’ wonderful, mama? I am so very happy,” she struggled out, brushing any hint of wetness from her cheeks and eyes. “We are on our way to the solicitors, but I will stop again on my way to our lodging and say ‘good night.’” She rested her hand upon the coarse stone of the grave marker and then accepted Christopher’s offered arm.
Rachel, Robert, and Hank had gone ahead to their Brownstone to pack the boy to Paul and Dix’s residence. Sara felt thankful for the time separated from inquisitive and measuring gazes.
“Are you certain you don’t wish to put off the visit to the solicitors until the morrow? We only just arrived, so I would understand putting it off.”
She shook her head, grateful for his warmth beside her. She breathed in deep of his aroma and held it close, her eyelids fluttering closed as she fought against the creeping need to escape.
“Thank you for introducing us, your mother and I. Yes, I had seen her from a distance before, but well, never mind.” Christopher cleared his throat, his fingers natural in seeking out her hand upon his arm. “I would give anything to be able to ease your heart about this upcoming visit, Sara.”
“That is dear of you, Christopher. Thank you.” But a person seldom chose their challenges.
Sara released a slow breath, her fingers tingling with the warmth of Christopher’s presence as she relaxed into the easy pace of their journey. The sounds of the late-afternoon city bustle a somewhat fond memory from ages past. “I did no’ think to return after so short a time.” Now that her life held such a completely different role, she wondered if she would even recognize what part she must play.
“Nor I. Honestly, life has thrown us for a bit of a loop of late. It’s hardly fair.”
He caressed the trembling chill of her fingers upon his arm and offered her an aside of smile and wink. The attempt to draw her from the shadows succeeded, and she fought to remain in the place of smiles and comfort.
“You must be quite curious as to what your mother has set aside for you, yes?”
Her nod did not even tremble the loose curl at her neck. “We had so little, Christopher,” she confessed. “What could she…?” But her spirit would not allow a completion of the question, afraid at the myriad of possible answers. How could she tempt life to entertain even more challenges to her character?
“Well, whether it is simply a dress or a few hundred five-pound notes, your friends are here for you. No matter the challenge or the blessing.” He pressed a whisper of a kiss upon the crown of her head, and the caress of his “I love you” seemed to speak all the promises and assurances she could possibly desire.
Life could rage and fume, or sing and dance, and she could face the result without fear or agony. How many years had she prayed and hoped for such a truth to finally find her? Her forward step trembled but continued, doggedly forward, her fingers tightening upon the warmth of his presence beside her as she lifted a prayer of thanksgiving.