“I want you, not because I pity you but because I adore you. Everything about you. Your beauty and courage and fragility. We fit together. You know we do. This is all grief. Bringing back all the feelings you’ve stuffed down inside you all this time.”
“It would kill me to think of you sacrificing yourself for me,” she said.
“If you want to go, I can’t stop you. Just know that, to me, you’re the finest woman in all the world. I’d do anything to have you by my side for the rest of my life. But you’re not trapped here. I’ll give you whatever funds you need to get started somewhere else. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“Oh, Theo.” The way she said my name made my heart feel no longer like an organ pumping my blood but the heart the poets wrote of. One that could break in two and leave me ruined. “My Theo,” she whispered, swaying slightly, as if she might faint.
I got up from the chair and sped over to her, catching her just in time. Lifting her in my arms, I carried her over to the sofa and set her down as gently as I could. She curled onto her side, resting her head on a decorative pillow. I knelt next to her, stroking her arm. “Please stay with me. Marry me. We can have a life together. Two broken parts that make a whole. You don’t have to be perfect. All the hurts from your past won’t magically disappear. And they don’t mean you don’t deserve to be loved or to love or to enjoy all that life offers, including a man who adores you and his big, interfering family.”
She stared at me with sad eyes. “What if you come to your senses and change your mind? I couldn’t bear it.”
“I can say with all certainty that I won’t change my mind.” No truer words had ever come from my mouth. “If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the next fifty years proving it to you.”
“I’m sorry. I want that. More than anything.” She sat up and reached for me.
I pulled her onto my lap and stroked her hair and kissed her damp cheeks and let her cry into the fabric of my shirt until she was out of tears.
22
Louisa
* * *
We buried Mother on a Sunday, her favorite day of the week. For me, the burial was a blur. If Theo had not been there to hold my hand, I’m uncertain how I would have gotten through the ordeal. Afterward, we all returned to the house. Quinn had invited anyone who wanted to come and pay their respects. As the maids served small sandwiches and coffee, I managed to greet the mourners and thank them for coming. Theo and the rest of the Barneses did their best to mingle and thank everyone as well. Finally, exhausted, I slipped away to the porch.
I heard the clatter of small feet and turned to see Delphia and Addie running up the stairs. They spotted me and stopped. They’d not come to the grave site and were not dressed in black as the mourners were.
I attempted a smile, but my mouth was as numb as the rest of me.
“Hello, Miss Louisa,” Addie said.
“We’ve come from the barn,” Delphia said. “Feeding the chickens.”
“Mama said we’re not to disturb you,” Addie said.
“But we didn’t know you were out here,” Delphia said, a little defensively, as if she thought they would be in trouble.
“It’s all right,” I said. “You’re not disturbing me. In fact, I’d like some company.”
Addie came closer, inspecting me in a way that reminded me of Theo, both sensitive and curious. She came to sit beside me. Delphia, perhaps following the lead of her older sister, did the same. They rested their cheeks against my shoulders. The scent of sunshine emanated from their golden heads.
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” Addie said. “I wish we could take another person’s sadness away.”
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” I asked.
“We read a book about a fairy godmother with a magic wand,” Delphia said. “You’d need one of those.”
“What would you use a wand for? If you had one?” I asked.
“Could I have a candy jar that never ran out?” Delphia asked. “Or does it have to be for someone else?”
“It should be for someone else. To help people.” Addie said this as if she were thinking out loud. “Candy doesn’t help people.”
“Too bad,” Delphia said.
“Tell me a story about my mother,” I said. “From Sunday school.”
They both lifted their heads to look at me.