“If he hadn’t caught her in time, who knows what might have happened.”
The thought of any woman doing that to her own baby baffled me. “Do you remember much about her?”
“Not really. Other than she was often in her room for days and days. Lizzie mothered us the best she could, but there was a void in our hearts until Quinn came. It got me thinking about you and your mother. Do you know anything about her?”
“She died when I was around three. I don’t remember her at all. Sometimes I think that’s a blessing. Missing her might have made everything unb
earable.”
“You have me now,” Theo said softly as he raised my chin upward with the tips of his fingers.
The compassion in his tone and with what I could only interpret as love in his eyes quickened my pulse. I threw my arms around his neck. “I’ll do my best to be a good wife to you.”
He captured my mouth with his, crushing me against him. I kissed him back. A wave of something I’d never felt before rushed through me. It was the feeling of the air before a thunderstorm—the dense ripeness before the clouds released their moisture and lightning streaked the sky and the thunder boomed. The tension before release. I’d not known my body was capable of wanting such a thing.
When we parted, he brushed my bottom lip with his thumb. “I have hope that someday you’ll feel what I feel, and that’s enough.”
Hope. Dare I be hopeful, too? “Theo, I’m—” I stopped, unable to tell him yet of this tension inside me. Someday, maybe, but not yet. “Thank you for your patience.”
“You’re welcome.” He brushed my lips with his once more, before nodding toward the house. “Now, we should head inside. We don’t want to be late for dinner.”
***
A few days later, I wandered down to the creek after lunch. The day was oppressively hot and humid, and I was restless and damp with perspiration inside the cottage. Mother had gone straight to her bed after eating a few bites of food that I’d brought from the big house. She’d said she needed a rest, despite having slept late. I let her be, knowing that fussing would only agitate her.
I perched on a rock and took my shoes and stockings off to put my feet into the water. A crackling of a twig caused me to look back up the hill to see Cymbeline. Wearing a drab brown cotton dress, she carried a walking stick that she jammed into the ground after every step. I couldn’t be certain, but I think she was talking to herself under her breath.
I called out, hoping not to startle her. “Cymbeline, down here.”
She waved at me with her stick, then charged down the slight slope to meet me. A red cotton scarf was tied over her curls. Her eyes were slightly puffy, and the slope in her shoulders told me she her spirits were low.
“How are you this morning?” I asked.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, I do.” I wasn’t entirely sure I did. She had a storm brewing in her dark eyes that frightened me.
She plopped down on a nearby log and let out a tremendous sigh. “I’m furious.”
“About what?”
“That I have to be afraid to go anywhere on my own simply because I’m a woman. Simply because I’m the weaker sex, I’m not safe. Doesn’t it make you mad?”
“Yes, it does.” Black dots danced before my eyes. I felt a sudden pressing against my chest. Regardless of my wishes, the memories of that night crawled to the surface. The man’s teeth. They’d been rotten. His breath had smelled of decaying trash.
“Louisa, has a headache come?” Cymbeline’s anger seemed to subside as she rushed to my side.
I tugged at the collar of my dress. “Warm. I’m too warm.”
Cymbeline went to the creek’s edge and scooped water into her hands and rushed back to me. “Hold out your hands.”
I did so, making them into the shape of a cup. She poured the water into them.
“Splash that over your face.”
Again, I did as she asked. The water cooled me somewhat, but the heat immediately returned. “I’m so hot.”
“Let’s swim.” Cymbeline tore her scarf from her head and tossed it in a grassy spot. “Take off everything but your underclothes.”