Chapter 32
Ana was running, a small, whimpering bundle in her arms. Shards of glimmering ash dimly lit the sky in front of her.
The dark forest seemed too far away. Would she ever reach it?
She risked a glance backward, only to see a city collapsing in flames and dark, roaring figures running after her.
Her feet pounded the ground even harder, slipping over ash-wet stones as Esperanza slipped from her arms, and she fell down, down, down . . .
Then she was alone in an achingly cold ocean, quickly losing every bit of her strength as waves crashed down, overwhelming her with exhaustion.
Salty water shoved itself down her throat, choking her.
Esperanza’s wails carried over the wind toward her from the small lifeboat that drifted ever away from her.
Some small portion of her mind knew she was dreaming, but with each memory of her current reality, the waves around her only seemed to grow taller and more ferocious.
Esperanza needed her desperately. And Ana was aching and overwhelmed and so, so tired.
And the hope of the lifeboat, the hope of Peter rescuing her, was being carried away by the waves that separated them.
He was leaving her, and not only in her dream.
That reality threatened to drag her so far into the depths below that she would never see daylight again.
Finally, she clawed herself through the dreams that were pulling her deeper downward into the waves. Her chest heaved as she gasped for calming air, and she rubbed at her eyes and the exhaustion that blinded her.
Then ice-cold panic doused her as she found her arms to be much too light and entirely too empty. Esperanza had been feeding only a moment ago. She clutched at the blankets bunched in her arms, tore all the bedclothes off her bed, and tossed the pillows to the floor. Where was she?
“Mija?!”
Her feet hit the floor as a panicked sob ripped through her.
“Ana?” Peter grumbled from the rocking chair in the corner, his voice lowered and rumbling from sleep.
He stood, stepping forward into the moonlight that was printed in the shape of windowpanes upon the floor. In his arms was a small, blanketed bundle with a fuzzy head of black hair peeking out from the top.
Relief rushed through Ana, nearly causing her knees to buckle. Before she could as much as take another breath, she rushed to him, her arms encircling the babe and cradling her close to her body again.
“You were quite asleep, and Essie was beginning to fuss. I only wanted to help rock her before I laid her down.” Peter’s voice blurred with exhaustion and confusion.
The relief that had warmed Ana only a moment before was quickly sapped away by a cold, crashing wave.
Jealousy, panic, helplessness, and frustration swirled in her mind so powerfully that it was difficult to put her thoughts in words.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head against it all.
She felt all out of sorts, a stranger in her own mind.
“You should wake me.”
“But you need to rest.”
“Why are you so obsesionado with my sleep?”
“Because your health requires it,” Peter replied, looking a bit taken aback. “Your body still has much recovering to do. Sleep is what you need more than anything else.”
“I need my daughter. My body needs my daughter.”
His eyes held hers for a long moment as he wiped his forehead with the cravat that lay undone around his neck. He was still dressed in his day clothes, rumpled and disorderly as they were. Had he truly been waiting in here so long?
“Look at you. Vaya a tu cama. Go sleep. It is late.”
“Only if I can rest assured that you’ll be sleeping as well.”
Again his obsession with her sleep! A high wave splashed her, slapping her in the face with a possessive jealousy.
He only wanted to see her return to sleep so he could take Esperanza for himself again.
How could he not understand that every part of her soul and being required being near her child at this time?
“I can assure you that I will rest. As will Esperanza. And as will you. Now, por favor, I ask you to go to your rooms.”
Peter’s cravat was practically wound into a rope in his hands, so tense his grip appeared to be. But at her words, the tension, the visible fight in him melted.
“Very well,” he murmured. He approached Ana, who instinctively held Esperanza higher and tighter to her chest. “Good night, Preciosa.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Esperanza’s head, then turned to Ana.
His eyes were on her lips, but the thought of kissing him when her mind was in such a state of turmoil only brought Ana greater distress.
She turned her head, and he brushed her cheek with a quick kiss that she wasn’t entirely sure she had felt at all.
“Buenas noches, Ana.”
Ana lowered herself back into the pillows with great care, wincing at the lingering pain that ached when she moved.
How had everything become so complicado so quickly?
All it had taken was the birth of her daughter and too many sleepless nights for her relationship with Peter to dissolve almost completely.
She felt that she was more of a burden than a wife or friend.
And that was even more evident now that he was leaving. Arrangements were to be made.
Surely he wished for another marriage, one that he wasn’t obligated to enter into.
Or another child, one that was truly his own.
There was one last narrow path that she could follow if she became certain that she was truly burdensome.
If she could convince Peter to do so, he could go to court, testify that Esperanza isn’t truly his child, divorce Ana, and disinherit Esperanza.
After all, she had borne a daughter, not a son, and that meant that she wouldn’t be required by law to stay with Peter, since Esperanza was not his heir.
Ana would be ruined, at least in the eyes of English customs and society, but such things would hardly matter upon returning to Spain.
More importantly, divorce was a grave sin according to her religion.
She could possibly be putting her own salvation in jeopardy.
But how could she live out her entire life as a burden to the man she loved, and while being separated from the country she loved?
Living beside Peter without being able to love him was a torture she would not survive.
Surely God would understand her need to find relief from the agony she felt, even if it meant seeking out a divorce.
Perhaps Peter would be happier returning to the army. Or starting a completely different life anew—one that didn’t tie him down with responsibilities that were not truly his own.