Chapter 31 #2
Ana ventured downstairs for a rare breath of fresh air on the terrace.
Lowering herself into a chair while she clutched Esperanza in the other was no easy feat.
Her body was slow to recover. But feeling the warmth of the evening air helped to clear the fog that made it so difficult for her to concentrate as of late.
And hearing the song of the nightingale reminded her that there was a calm world outside her tumultuous mind.
She wasn’t certain when the anticipation of Peter’s presence had started to make her so nervous.
But whenever he offered to help her with Esperanza, it made her feel as though she was not capable of caring for the babe herself.
Perhaps he recognized her faults as a mother and was trying to cover them with his own efforts.
But deep inside her heart, Ana knew that his presence pained her because it reminded her that their arrangement was entirely too temporary.
It would not remain like this forever. He would be called back to his responsibilities as a captain in the armada and would be leaving her, much as Papá and Mamá had done.
And why would she prolong the inevitable pain of his leaving by allowing him a greater place in her heart, in Esperanza’s heart?
No, she needed to do it all on her own. His absence would require such independence from her.
Army life did not lend itself to attentive fatherhood, in her experience.
Perhaps that was why Peter always mentioned he had never planned to be married or have children.
In all likelihood, they were a great inconvenience to him now, and he would be more than glad to return to the army.
It had always seemed that Papá was at his happiest when he was away.
Why would it be any different for Peter?
She would not allow herself or Esperanza to be dealt the same heartbreak that she received from Papá’s recurrent absence.
She knew better than anyone how it broke Mamá—broke her so completely that she couldn’t even be bothered to take young Ana with her when she abandoned Papá.
None of it was rational. Ana wanted to believe that Peter was not like Papá.
He was not blinded by his responsibilities to his country—not so blinded that his family would crumble and he wouldn’t even notice.
He was not leaving her, at least not now.
But that rationality couldn’t discount the very real panic that descended upon her when she saw Peter.
It made her pulse quicken to a sickening rate, and not in the delightful way it had before when she was anticipating an embrace or a kiss.
How had everything gone so terribly wrong in only a matter of weeks?
“Might I join you?”
Peter. Ana’s entire body tensed, her arms tightening instantly around Esperanza. Her moment of solace had been cut short again.
“Por supuesto.” Of course.
“Can I interest you in some horchata?”
Cook had been making the drink after Elena taught her to do so for their vineyard outing.
And Ana would utter no complaint about it.
She nodded and darted a glance at Peter’s face as he poured her a generous cupful.
His normally open expression was clouded with tension.
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he bit on the inside of his cheek, as he often did when he was nervous.
The anxiety that Ana harbored began to lessen out of concern for the man that she loved much more than she dared to admit. Horchata forgotten.
For the first time in weeks, she crossed the invisible threshold between them, reached for his hand, and squeezed twice. But instead of squeezing in response, Peter’s jaw only tightened. Ana’s heart pounded dangerously fast.
“What is the matter?” she managed, her voice high with fear.
“I have received quite a bad bit of news.”
Ana’s stomach squeezed with pain. She wrapped one hand around her middle, as if that would keep her from falling apart. “You are leaving.”
“Sir Huntington paid me a visit. It seems that the regiment is going to be called back within a month or so . . .” The roaring of blood in Ana’s ears quickly drowned out Peter’s explanation as she bounced Esperanza in her arms at an increasing speed.
He was leaving them both. Her daughter would grow up without a father, at least an available one.
And she, without a husband. How had she ever allowed herself to enter into such a marriage?
To create such a mess for herself? Now the agonies of her own childhood were to repeat themselves, and Ana simply could not bear it.
“You need not share your plans with me,” she burst out, squeezing her eyes shut against his reaction, but shocked silence was heavy in the air.
“I thought you would be grateful for my honesty. I did not wish to repeat my mistake of keeping these things from you. I only wish to give us more time to prepare for my absence. There are plans to be made to ensure that you and Esperanza will be—”
“I have been preparing already,” Ana interrupted, schooling her features to reflect a calm demeanor instead of the panicked hurt that was tearing apart her heart on the inside. “Simply tell me when you leave.”
And, it seemed, that silenced him. Surprise lifted his brows and clamped his lips shut. “Ah. I see,” he managed before awkward silence enveloped the space between them. “I have not yet received official notice of the recall, but Sir David has led me to believe it will be in about a month’s time.”
“Very well.” Ana rose on trembling legs, no longer able to endure Peter’s presence. One look into his crystal eyes and she would be falling apart, sobbing, begging him to stay. But such things had not worked for Papá. Or Mamá, for that matter.
“Ana?” She froze at the door, the raw emotion in Peter’s voice already causing silent tears to wind their way down her cheeks.
“I will miss you terribly. You and Essie.”
Papá had said as much. But it had not brought him back in time. Ana pushed the door open without giving him a reply and ran to her rooms, where she could cry out the aching in her heart.