Chapter 3
Chapter Three
M argaret had no sooner climbed into the bed when the door opened. Soft light spilled in from the hallway. The intruder was naught more than a dark silhouette, but there was no mistaking that it was a man who stood there.
Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t speak or move. The shadow quietly closed the door behind himself and began to tiptoe across the stone floor. ‘Twasn’t until he was near the hearth that she realized ’twas Aiden.
I should have known!
Fear and anger began to form a heavy knot in the pit of her stomach. Lord above, what is wrong with this man? This was her private chamber, and she had not invited him in.
Quietly, he sat on the edge of the small bed and let out a tired sigh as he began to remove his boots.
Good lord, he means to consummate our marriage! Does he have no mercy? No patience? Angrily, she jolted upright, pulling the furs up to her chin. “What on earth are ye doin’ here?”
He turned to glance over her shoulder. “I am goin’ to bed.” He turned away and removed a boot.
“But this is my chamber!” she exclaimed in a harsh whisper.
“Aye, I ken that, lass.”
She wasn’t about to let him touch her, let alone do anything else. Furious, she jumped from the bed, taking the linen and furs with her. “If ye think that we are goin’ t-to—” She searched for the most ladylike word. “If ye think we are goin’ to consummate this marriage, ye can think again.”
He had tossed his boots onto the floor and began to remove his tunic. “Lass, I can assure ye I have no plans to do anything but sleep.”
Nonplussed, she stammered her reply. “Th-then, go sleep in yer own chamber!”
He tossed his tunic on top of his boots and let out a heavy sigh. “I am in my chamber.”
Utterly stunned. Regardless of how she felt about Aiden Randall, she was the chatelaine, and everyone knew that chatelaines had their own bedchamber and rooms.
“I was told that this is my chamber.”
She could hear the frustration in his voice when he spoke again. “This is our chamber.”
Slowly, he got to his feet and began to untie the laces to his trews.
Gritting her teeth, she turned away, taking all the blankets and furs with her. He could freeze to death, for all she cared. The last thing she wanted was to see him naked, let alone share her bed with him. This was an atrocity, if ever there was.
Margaret heard him unfasten his sword belt before he sat it against the wall next to the bed, immediately followed by the sound of his leather trews sliding down his legs. He kicked them away with his feet.
When the bed creaked from the weight of his body, her heart momentarily seized. Her breath caught in her throat as the knot in her stomach intensified.
“Ye cannae sleep here.” She thought she had made her point abundantly clear only moments ago. How dare he ignore her!
“I will nae sleep at all if ye dinnae give me the furs,” he said.
Either he didn’t hear the distress in her voice or he simply didn’t care.
“Ye cannae sleep here,” she repeated.
“Lass, I can assure ye that yer virtue is safe with me. I have nae slept in days. I could nae consummate our marriage if I wanted to. I am far too exhausted.”
Truly, she didn’t care if he was exhausted. There was no way on God’s earth she would share a bed with him. Not this night or any other. “Again, I tell ye that ye cannae sleep here. Find another chamber.”
He sighed in frustration. “There are no more chambers.”
She was aghast. “In a keep this big?” Nay, she didn’t believe him.
He yawned before replying, “Ye have nae met my family yet, lass. Now, please, come to bed. I want to sleep.”
Sleep? With him? Was he insane?
Even with her back turned, she could hear him shivering, but it didn’t affect her in the least.
“I will nae share this bed with ye.” Her words were clipped and seething with venom.
“Bloody hell! I am tired!”
A half an hour later, Aiden had given up arguing with her. Cold, exhausted, and filled with a frustration that bordered on anger, he grabbed his boots and clothes and quit the room. No sooner had he stepped into the hallway than she slammed the door shut and locked it.
So, there he stood, in the cold hallway, as naked as the day he was born. He had to set aside his desire to kick the door in and strangle the hard-headed woman. A dull throb had formed in his skull as he ground his teeth with exasperation. They hadn’t been married a full day yet. Strangling her would be difficult to explain to anyone.
With a disgruntled sigh, he stomped down the hallway and headed for the men’s solar on the other side of the keep. ’Twas where his younger, unmarried brothers slept.
Hopefully, he could slip into a warm bed without disturbing any of them. He had no wish to explain to them why he was sleeping there instead of in his own chamber with his wife.
The solar was quiet and dark, save for the low-burning fire in the brazier and Danial’s snoring. The rest of his brothers, David, Keith, and Hugh, were all fast asleep. None of them could rattle the rafters with their snoring like Danial could.
Thankfully, he disturbed no one as he slid into an empty cot. Freezing cold, he pulled the blanket up to his ears. For the next several hours, he slept like the dead.
Aiden couldn’t remember the last time he had slept. Two days? Three? The anger he had felt towards his wife last night was long gone. He wasn’t one to hang on to anger, unless it pertained to one of their enemies. But his wife? Nay, he couldn’t blame her for being upset and frightened. Her entire world had been turned upside down, and she had been given no choice in marrying him. Hell, he imagined he would feel much the same way as she, were their roles reversed.
Hopefully, his bride had slept well and would possess a more pleasant attitude this morn.
He had slept well, bathed, shaved the stubble from his face, donned fresh clothing, and partaken of a fine morning meal. All those things combined had made him feel refreshed and ready to take on any challenges the day would most assuredly bring.
The first challenge would undoubtedly involve his bride. She was a beautiful young woman; there was no denying it. Long, dark-brown locks and the palest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were the color of an icy loch on a moonlit night. Aye, she was a beauty and he looked forward to the moment he could take his time exploring every inch of her body. After the events of last night, he knew he wouldn’t be given that pleasure just yet. Mayhap, after a day or two of getting to know one another, and with a little wooing on his part, he would get her to see the way of things.
After breaking his fast, he had met with two of his brothers, George and Thomas, in his private study. Good men, they were. Thomas reminded him most of their father, Magnus; he looked just like him and had many of his mannerisms, such as the way he sauntered rather than walked, and how his eyes would narrow when he was deep in thought. Even his voice was similar to their father’s.
It hadn’t taken long to explain how he had come to be married to Margaret. While each of his brothers were more than a bit surprised, they could agree that a union betwixt the MacCallens and the Randalls would be beneficial—especially to the Randalls. Thomas had seen Margaret when she arrived with the babe in her arms. “She is a comely lass, so that does nae hurt matters any,” he said with a wry grin.
George, far more serious than he needed to be at times, grunted and ignored his younger brother’s assessment. “Are ye sure she can be trusted?”
Were it any other person asking that question, Aiden might have been insulted by it. “I believe she can be,” he replied. “But only time will tell, aye?”
The Randall clan was small by most peoples standards, and with the current border raids from their enemies, they needed as many allies as they could acquire. Although their lands were perfect for growing wheat and barley, the crops from the last three years hadn’t been as bountiful as they were accustomed to. They had received too much rain two years in a row, flooding many of their fields. And, last year, their crops were destroyed by brown stinkbugs. The pests had even found their way into the smaller private gardens, eating every berry and vegetable in their path.
In the end, they were forced to burn their crops, in hopes of eradicating the insects. Lizabet called them the devil’s scourge, and no one could argue otherwise.
In addition to that, the MacKinnons, who bordered them to the north, were once again becoming a worry. Last autumn, they had begun an attempt to start a border war. Little pokes, mind you, and no one had died. Yet. And that was his worry.
Thus, with the MacCallens as allies now, they could call upon them if need be.
Feeling more hopeful than he had in years, Aiden was confident that he and his family and clan would see a much brighter year ahead.
As soon as his meeting with his brothers ended, Aiden made his way above stairs to see how his lovely bride was faring. She has been through a trial of late, he thought as he made his way down the winding corridors. Who can blame her for being fearful last night?
While he didn’t know much about her (only what Connor and Onnleigh had told him), he was certain there was nothing in her past that they couldn’t overcome.
As he rounded the corner of the last hallway, he could hear the voices of his sisters, floating out of his bed chamber.
I should have known they would nae wait for me to introduce her, he thought with a grin. Hopefully not all of them had invaded his chamber. ’Twas likely to scare Margaret half to death.
As soon as he got to the open door, he hung his head for a moment. I should have known better.
Margaret had slept like the dead. So deep in sleep, she hadn’t heard her bed chamber door open. At first, she thought she was dreaming. A sweet, contented dream whereby her home was filled with many children and enough love to go around. So much love and happiness that her children smiled and giggled without hesitation.
But when the giggles and whispers grew in both volume and number, she realized it wasn’t a dream. Someone was in her chamber, without invitation. Didn’t these people know that a chatelaine will send for her maids when she is ready for them? How dare they wake her up!
Just as she was about to curse at the intruders and tell them to come back later, she heard a young girl whisper.
“Och! She is as pretty as Danial and David said!”
“Aye, she is,” came another young female voice.
Margaret had assumed that the intruders were maids sent to tend to her needs. But the voices sounded young—quite young.
The next voice she heard belonged to a little boy, no doubt about it. “’Tis past the noonin’ hour. Do ye suppose she is dead?”
A different voice, female- and older-sounding, hushed the boy.
She was no longer able to feign sleep. Opening her eyes, she sat up in the bed, fully prepared to give whomever was near a piece of her mind.
Much to her surprise, her chamber was filled with more people than she had previously imagined. Women and children—mostly children—took up every bit of space available.
“Och! She is a beauty!” That reply came from a woman Margaret estimated to be around her own age. A tiny, pretty lass with light-blonde hair and pale-blue eyes.
“I dinnae ken how someone can sleep past the noonin’ hour,” a little boy said.
“Wheest, Collin!” one of the women scolded. “The poor lass has been through a trial.” She turned to look at other young ladies and women. “Were it I who had gone through all that she has, I think I would want to sleep for a week.”
The group began to chat with one another as Margaret sat in her bed, wondering who they were and why they were here. In her chamber. Without an invitation. If these were more of Aiden’s servants, she would have to let them know what the rules were.
A woman with the dark-brown hair and even darker-brown eyes made her way through the small crowd. ’Twas easy to see that she was heavy with child. Margaret wondered if any of the children in the room were hers.
Lumbering her way toward the bed, she sat down at the foot of it and smiled. “I am Aiden’s sister, Lizabet. We are so verra happy to meet ye.”
A sense of relief fell over her. He had nae lied last night. He does have family. Margaret didn’t offer any kind of reply.
“I think we shall be good friends,” Lizabet declared happily before turning to the matter at hand. “Allow me to introduce us to ye,” she began. “The wee lass hiding behind her Aunt Annabella’s skirts is my oldest child, Alyce. She is named after my mum—Alyce, nae Annabella,” she said with a smile. “The wee one standing next to Elayne is my daughter Meredith. Watch out for her; she is a fighter.” She turned to smile again at Margaret. “My Meredith, nae Elayne. Although, if she becomes riled...” Lizabet smiled as she glanced at Elayne, who gave a slight shake of her head.
Lord, it was impossible to keep up! Her head began to spin, and Lizabet was still making the introductions.
“Elyane is married to my brother George.” She nodded towards the petite, blonde-haired, green-eyed young woman standing near Margaret’s trunks. “Elayne is mum to the three boys at her feet and the bairn on her hip. Elayne tends to be a bit shy until ye get to know her better.”
She patted Margaret’s fur-covered foot and smiled again. “Nae everyone is here, of course. Hugh is with his older brothers.”
There are more of ye? Margaret’s head continued to spin.
“Now, the pretty ginger-haired lasses. Those are also my sisters, Hope and Grace.” Glancing over her shoulder at Margaret, she asked, “Can ye guess which of them are twins?”
Three tall, slender lasses were standing close to the hearth. Two were ginger-haired lasses with freckles and big blue eyes. One, however, had dark, auburn hair with the bluest eyes Margaret had ever seen. To her, the answer was simple. “The two gingers,” she said. “The two with the freckles.”
Everyone in the room began to giggle or laugh. The little children were giggling with glee as they whispered into one another’s ears.
“Something tells me that I am wrong,” Margaret said with a raised brow.
Lizabet smiled. The kind of mischievous smile that makes a lass’s eyes twinkle.
“Everyone gets it wrong,” one of the little boys said, covering his giggle with his hands.
The ginger haired lass in the green dress, and the auburn haired girl stepped forward and gave a short curtsy. “I am Faith,” she said happily.
“Collin is right,” the auburn-haired lass said. “I am Hope. Everyone gets it wrong.”
The girl who most resembled Faith came forward. “I am Grace,” she said with a bright, beaming smile. “And we are all so glad that ye are here!”
The women and young ladies all began speaking at once. Margaret couldn’t make out most of what they were saying, as they were all talking over each other.
I doubt I will ever remember all of their names, she mused. And I pray they dinnae chatter away like this all the time.
The babe in the arms of the woman whose name she could not now recall began to fuss, rubbing his little eyes with his fists. His mother bounced him up and down, softly murmuring sweet words against his little bald head.
Honestly, Margaret didn’t know how they were all able to fit into this minuscule room. The noise, the commotion … ’Twas all beginning to unsettle her. She was not used to being around so many women, not to mention children.
Margaret was trying her best to remain as calm as possible, when a man’s voice reached her from the back of the chamber. “Lizabet? Are ye in here?”
At hearing the strange man’s voice, Margaret pulled the covers up to her neck. While it was one thing to have had her room invaded by women and children, to have a man enter the fold was far too much.
“Aye, Emery, I am,” she all but shouted her reply. “That is Emery, my husband,” she explained to Margaret without looking at her. “Over here! On the bed!”
A very tall, slender man, with curly, golden-blonde hair made his way through the crowd. On his way through, he playfully picked up each of his daughters. The eldest, he sat upon one shoulder, while the youngest he carried under the other arm. The girls squealed and screamed with delight.
Margaret’s head began to pound. Nay, I will never get used to this. I pray this is nae a daily occurrence!
As soon as he reached his wife, Emery bent over to allow the little girl to slide down his shoulder and arm. She tumbled and landed with an "Oomph” at the foot of the bed, her skinny little knees digging into Margaret’s feet. It took some effort on Margaret’s part to dislodge her feet without knocking the little girl off the bed.
With her little hands, she smoothed away the hair from her face. She took one look at Margaret and smiled with such sweetness and innocence that it tugged at her heart.
“I am Alyce,” she said proudly, “and ye are my Aunt Marget.”
She couldn’t have resisted smiling down at the little girl if there had been a dirk at her throat. “Margaret,” she corrected her in a soft voice.
“That is what I said,” she replied, as if Margaret was not too intelligent. “Marget.”
The sweet child’s smile tugged at Margaret’s heart.
For the tiniest moment, Margaret forgot all about being the regal, firm, and strict chatelaine her mother had insisted she be. The little girl climbed onto Margaret’s lap, up with those twinkling, gold-brown eyes and said, “Do ye like sweet cakes?”
“I do,” Margaret replied.
“Bread and honey?”
She giggled. “Aye, I do like bread and honey.”
“Do ye like puppies?”
“Now, who doesn’t like puppies?” Margaret said playfully. While she could be cold and stern with adults, children were an altogether different matter. Truly, she loved babes and little children and found it impossible to treat them with anything but kindness. “I love puppies and kittens.”
Alyce crooked her finger at Margaret, a sign she wished to whisper something private. She leaned down to listen, while Alyce moved Margaret’s hair out of the way of her ear. “The stable master has puppies,” she whispered. “He says I can have one. But dinnae tell Mum. She does nae ken yet.”
Oh, the innocence of babes and little children!
It soon became obvious that the boys didn’t wish to be left out. Two of them were standing quietly beside the bed, whilst the wean was struggling to climb into the bed. “I will help ye, Fergus,” Alyce said as she grabbed his hands and pulled him up and across the soft mattress.
The two older boys said nothing, but from their expressions, they wanted to join the others. Margaret rolled her eyes and scooted over. “Ye might as well join us,” she told them happily.
Their frowns turned to happy smiles in the blink of an eye as they hurried to join the others. The bed itself was barely big enough for Margaret, but she cared not. She was enjoying the moment.
“Do ye like worms?” the older boy asked.
“Ew,” Alyce replied with a look of repulsion. Ladies dinnae like worms.”
“I do,” Margaret said. “I used to catch them when I was your age. My father and I used to fish almost every day.”
And then, just like that, the happy, carefree feeling she had experienced as she sat on her bed with these little children vanished as soon as she thought of her youth and of her father.
A flood of ugly memories came crashing through her mind. They left her feeling just as desolate and empty as she had when she stood before the priest, being married off to Aiden Randall.
There had been a time when she was happy and blissfully unaware of just how ugly and cruel the world could be. That was a lifetime ago, when her life was simple, and she was as happy and carefree as the little children sitting on her bed.
When the tears threatened, she dug her fingernails into her palms. ’Twas something she had begun to do years ago, when all of her troubles began, coincidentally, just days after her father’s death. He’d been her champion, her best friend. The one person she could always count on.
“Aunt Marget?” Alyce said as she gave her knee a gentle nudge. “Did ye hear us?”
Margaret blinked once, then again. “I fear I dinnae hear ye,” she whispered.
The child looked concerned and asked, “Why are ye sad?”
Oh, child. Those answers are nae meant for the young. “I am just tired.” ‘Twasn’t a complete lie, she supposed.
“What are ye all tryin’ to do, scare the lass half to death?” ’Twas Aiden, speaking from the doorway.
All eyes turned toward his voice. “Uncle Aiden!” Alyce squealed with glee. Everyone, including the children, were clamoring to get to him. The smallest of the children were able to squeeze past the adults and were soon begging for him to pick them up.
Aiden couldn’t see Margaret sitting on the bed, but she could see and hear him. He was taller than everyone else in the room. But, with the room so small and the women crowded at the foot of her bed, his view of her was blocked.
Aiden laughed, his eyes twinkling with pure joy as he picked up the youngest boy, gave him a hug, and then handed him off to one of the women. He repeated those actions with each of the children, while the adults were busy congratulating him and asking one question after another.
’Twas all utter chaos, but no one else in the room seemed to mind at all. Not the cacophony of voices bouncing off the walls or the way they were all squeezed together as close as the grains of salt in a box.
All she could do was remain on the bed and watch the mayhem unfold. Aye, it seemed to be happy mayhem, but ’twas still mayhem nonetheless
Suddenly, Aiden’s countenance changed. His shoulders slumped, and his mischievous grin turned to a frown. Margaret followed his gaze; he was staring at a young boy who sat atop one of her trunks. She hadn’t noticed the little boy before. His knees were drawn to his chest, and he looked sad and forlorn. But, as soon as he noticed Aiden pushing his way through the crowd, he smiled, got to his feet, and held his arms out.
Aiden scooped him up and hugged him tightly for a long, long moment.
“How are ye, Symon?”
“I am better this day, Uncle,” the little boy said as he pushed away from Aiden.
“And how is your da?”
Symon shrugged his shoulders as he let out a long, heavy sigh. “He is still mournin’ somethin’ fierce, Uncle. Somethin’ fierce.”
Aiden drew the boy in for another hug. Patting his small back, Aiden said, “Aye, I ken.”
“Will he ever quit bein’ so sad?”
Aiden took time to ponder the boy’s question. “Aye, lad, he will. It will take some time, but dinnae fret over it much. He just needs time.”
Moments later, Aiden’s family was once again clamoring for his attention. “Good Lord, people,” he said as he put Symon down. “I was nae gone but for a day.”
“It felt like a year,” Lizabet said with much sarcasm. “A quiet, peaceful year.”
Aiden winked at her and smiled. “I kenned ye would be the one to miss me the most.”
They all began talking at once, hurling questions at him like arrows during war. Margaret couldn’t keep up with any of the conversations or questions, and the cacophony of voices was making her head hurt. She had the need to be alone, to tend to her morning ablutions, and to hear naught but the sound of her own breathing. There were simply too many people, too many voices. She was not used to such a scene. Not at all.
“Settle down, ye heathens,” Aiden said as he raised his hands, calling for quiet. The room fell still a moment later.
“Thank ye,” he said. “Now, where is my bride?”
Every one of his sisters, along with their children, had somehow managed to fit into Aiden’s bed chamber. Crammed in like pickles in a barrel. How they had done it, he didn’t know, nor did he care. His sisters constantly amazed him, but there were times they drove him to the precipice of insanity.
There was no way he could see Margaret through this horde of Randall women. But she had to be here, somewhere. Most likely, she was in their bed, trying to figure out what in the name of God was happening.
In hindsight, he should have insisted they all leave immediately. But he was dealing with Randall women. If they had their mind set on something, it would take God himself coming down from the heavens to change their minds. They wouldn’t go down without a fight.
His nephews and niece were just as determined as their mothers. It took a long while to make his way through the hugs and greetings from the wee ones. And of course, Lizabet, the leader of this army of females, wasn’t about to assist him in removing anyone just yet.
“All right, ye heathens, settle down, and tell me where my wife is.”
“She is still abed, Uncle Aiden,” Alyce said as she wiggled her way back towards him.
As was her habit, the little girl crooked her finger, bidding him to bend down. He was barely able to move, let alone bend down so that she could whisper whatever it was she wanted to tell him. So, he picked her up. “What is it, Alyce?” he asked in a low tone.
“She says she is tired, but I think she is sad.”
The veritable concern in the little girl’s voice alarm him. “Thank ye, Alyce,” he whispered into her ear.
“I think ye should give her a flower,” Alyce whispered back. “Flowers always make me happy.”
“I shall take that under advisement,” he replied.
He still couldn’t see Margaret, but if Alyce’s assessment was correct (and it usually was), he needed to clear the room to speak to his wife.
Aiden set Alyce back on her feet and said, “All right, ye stubborn lot of women. I need to speak to Margaret.”
He was thankful that none of them argued. Especially Lizabet.
“Aiden is right,” Lizabet said. “They need some time alone.”
One by one, they left the room. “Be nice to her. I would nae want ye to have to sleep in the men’s solar again this night,” Lizabet said over her shoulder.
Her sarcasm was as thick as molasses. He had left the solar before anyone else was awake and had hoped no one would be the wiser. He should have known better. There were more spies in his home than in Sterling Castle. ’Twas nigh on impossible to keep a secret within these walls. His sisters had ways of finding things out.
Aiden closed the door after the last of his sisters left. He took a deep breath before turning to face his wife.
Alyce was wrong. His wife didn’t look sad. She looked positively terrified.
“So ye have met some of my family,” he said as he took a few steps toward the bed. He tried to keep a lighthearted tone, to make her feel at ease as much as possible.
Margaret gave a quick nod of her head.
She was gripping the covers so tightly that her fingers had turned white. Her bright-blue eyes were alight with indisputable fear.
Pausing at the foot of the bed, he began to apologize. “I am sorry for the invasion from my sisters. They are good women and always mean well.”
He was doing his level best to maintain a reassuring, calm tone. But those fear-filled eyes staring up at him made him want to pick her up and hold her close. Yet he knew that such behavior would only terrify her even more.
Was she afraid of him ? Most likely, he assumed. Aye, it would take time to earn her trust. Aiden didn’t mind.
Slowly, he retrieved the stool from near the hearth and sat down next to the bed. “Margaret, I want ye to ken that ye need never fear me. Neither of us knows the other at all. Hell, we had never met before the other night, aye?”
He received no response. Not so much as a nod of agreement. Nay, she continued to sit with her knees drawn up, the furs covering her up to her chin. And those bright-blue eyes were still filled with so much fear.
“I am a patient man,” he explained. “I will never hurt ye. I dinnae ken how many times I can say that, lass. But I give ye my word that ye will always be safe with me.”
Silence filled the space between them. “Lass, I ken ye ken how to speak. Why do ye refuse to speak to me?”
Speak to ye?
A hundred thoughts and memories exploded inside her mind. Her mother’s words, her father’s laughter, Onnleigh’s forgiveness, memories of all the foul, rotten things she had been forced to do these past many years, all of them pounding inside her skull and her heart.
Plagued with fear and guilt, she couldn’t find her voice, let alone to think clearly.
‘Twasn’t that she refused to speak to him. Nay, she simply couldn’t find her voice or the words to explain what was happening to her.
“Lass?”
From the concern in his tone, he had said her name more than once.
Margaret closed her eyes and took in deep, steadying breaths and did her best to shake away the thoughts assaulting her mind and heart. When she opened her eyes again, Aiden was still there.
“Margaret? Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” she whispered. “I am simply tired and need to be alone.” She wasn’t about to confide in him what she was feeling or thinking. Years of living with her mother had taught her that her feelings were of no import.
Even she could see that he didn’t believe her. Much to her relief and surprise, he didn’t push or argue. “Verra well, lass. I will leave ye to rest.” He put his palms on his thighs and pushed himself up from the stool.
“If ye need anythin’, Faith, Hope, and Grace are in the chamber next to ours.”
And with that, he quit the room, quietly closing the door behind himself.
As soon as the door was closed, tears filled her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She tried to convince herself that ’twas nothing more than exhaustion that brought forth the tears. But, deep down, she knew that wasn’t the truth. It was years of endlessly tamping down any thought, any feeling, that her mother didn’t approve of.
Stop yer cryin ’ ! Stop at once or I shall give ye somethin ’ to cry about. Her mother’s words were always present, never leaving, and rarely silent.
“Lord,” she whispered, “will I ever be free of her?”