“Not at that time.” She shook her head as she traced her fingertips along the sculpture’s right leg. Oliver shuddered, for so easily he could imagine that light touch on his person. “In fact, I lost three pregnancies early on before I carried Hannah to full term. Throughout it all, James was a rock of support, and he often took his leave to be with me during those dark times.”
The loss this one woman had experienced in her life boggled his mind. “I cannot imagine how you’ve survived through everything.”
A pretty pout took possession of her lips. “One does what one must because there is no other choice.” Then she turned about to face him and leaned back against the statue. “I was nine and twenty when I gave birth to my daughter. Oh, that was the most glorious day, Oliver. It felt as if all the suffering and grief I’d already been through was worth that moment of joy. But it brought with it a few complications that meant I could never again carry a child.”
Dear God.He wanted to rush over and bundle her into his arms, hold her close and protect her from the world. She’d suffered too much for too long. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Hannah is quite unique.” And she was a co-conspirator. If he was lucky enough to step in and be a parent to her, it would be his honor to help her reach her full potential. “She possesses intelligence and compassion. Both of those things will take her far in life. I would like to be there to see what she achieves.”
“I think so too.” Sophia glanced at the sky, for the sun had vanished behind fat gray rain clouds. “Let’s bring this tale to its inevitable conclusion, shall we? Sometimes the rain makes me feel sad.” Over the span of a few heartbeats, she remained silent before speaking again. “For the next six years, we were blissfully happy as a little family. Hannah and I traveled all over England to be closer to where James was and make it easier for him to reach us when given leave.”
“But, of course, such exquisite perfection couldn’t last.” In many ways, he didn’t wish to hear the rest of the story, but it would help him understand her better.
“No, it didn’t. Shortly after Hannah’s seventh birthday, a battle raged in Belgium that James was a part of. He didn’t come home from that theatre of war. In fact, when I received the official letter of his death, his commanding officer had also included a half-finished letter James had begun.” A waver set up in her voice. “It was stained with mud and blood.” She pressed her lips together. “Oh, he was so excited to see us again since everyone knew the end of the war was near. He’d said he intended to purchase a present for Hannah as soon as he stepped foot back on English soil.” With a sigh, she brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “That was five years ago, and to this day, James lies in an unmarked grave in a Belgium field. Untended and unremembered.”
“Not unremembered. I’ll wager you think about him every day,” Oliver said in a soft voice. “And I know that he is not far from Hannah’s thoughts.” Hadn’t her confidence shown that? “It’s fully acceptable to mourn those who have passed long after they’re gone. There is no timeline for grief or working through it.” As much as he wished to close the distance between them and embrace her, that would distract him from what he wanted to say. “I often think grief is the penalty one must eventually pay to have known such glorious love.”
Was that what fate would exact from him sooner than he would like? Would he be able to recover from it?
“Agreed. Some days I’m well enough but then on others, grief sweeps me up and I mourn all over again.” She wrapped her arms about her person and shivered. “And now, whenever I look at Hannah and see traces of James in her, I worry all over again knowing that I’ll leave her alone without a parent.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “It nearly steals my breath, for I don’t want to go. I’m not ready.”
Her obvious distress tugged at his chest. Perhaps it was time for him to get to the point of this meeting. “No one wishes for you to leave either.” As he passed the collection of rose bushes, he plucked two—one lavender and one yellow. “That is largely why I invited you here this afternoon.”
Surprise flitted over Sophia’s face. “What are you trying to say, Ambassador?”
“Just this.” He came close and offered both blooms to her. When she still appeared confused, he took her free hand, led her to one of the benches, and then gently urged her onto it.
God help him, but this was the most important question he would ever ask.