Chapter 40 #2
After sharing so much raw emotion, the brothers inevitably dropped into a more casual, lighthearted conversation about hunting, horse racing, and Sir David’s prospects, but not before Matthew could bestow upon Peter the official stewardship of Abbeygate.
The property was still the Ashmore country seat, but Matthew found himself quite wrapped up in his duties in London and his responsibilities to his new family and had no intention to use it in the future.
He desired for Peter exactly what Peter had longed for himself for so many years: a place that was truly home.
And now that he would never return to war, Peter had his entire life ahead of him to ensure that Abbeygate became such, even more than it already had.
* * *
The age of three months was perfect, Peter had decided.
But he could not deny that every new ability Essie discovered about herself proved to be more exciting than the last. First, the slow, uncontrolled squirming of her arms and legs had adorably fascinated her.
And then she had discovered her voice, a voice that was just as musical and enrapturing in its nature as her mother’s.
Even her squalls of protest were beautiful.
She had started to lift her head about and even offered him soft, pink smiles that were surprisingly wet.
Every bit of her was enchanting, down to her round fingers and the adorable roll of fat about her ankles and wrists.
Best of all, she had her mother’s eyes. Peter would never be able to deny her anything if she knew the power of their depths.
Perhaps every age of hers would be his favorite. Peter had never imagined himself so enamored by such a tiny person, particularly one who likely didn’t even recognize him yet.
“Amor?”
“Sí?”
“I believe Esperanza has hunger.”
Peter looked down, surprised to see the babe sucking hungrily at his thumb. So lost in reflection he had been, he hadn’t even felt it. Or perhaps he was already so accustomed to her new habit.
“Right you are, my dear.” Peter crossed the nursery and carefully handed the babe to Ana, who unbuttoned a clever flap on her dress. Within a moment, Essie was attached to her mother and sucking surprisingly violently.
Peter chuckled. “If only we could all dine so quickly and conveniently.”
“Convenient for her, perhaps,” Ana said with a chuckle. But there was no bitterness or even exhaustion in her voice—only adoration as she brushed the jiggling cheek of their daughter with a gentle finger.
Peter had experienced many transformations in recent days, but he had also seen a great transformation in his wife.
Letting go of the fear of abandonment she had carried for so many years had healed her in a way that was strangely visible.
Her beautiful face was trusting and open now, her posture relaxed, and her smile genuine and full.
Having confidence in her future, even in their love, had made Ana even more beautiful and compassionate than she had ever been before.
And Peter found he could hardly resist her.
They spent every available moment together walking the grounds, visiting the village, learning Spanish, attending church services, and marveling over the beauty of their growing daughter.
And Peter had made a habit of kissing his wife with nearly every breath.
The passion of their marriage had returned as all-encompassing and refreshing as a summer rainstorm.
He had never dreamed that such a relationship could bring him the wholeness he had always longed for.
It was a holy thing to love his wife. It was worship.
Ana still endured moments of fear when panic seized her by the shoulders and froze her mind momentarily, but Peter had been learning how to help her in such moments.
Pulling her into a gentle, enduring embrace and reminding her of her present reality often seemed to do the trick, although he was trying to become better at listening to her concerns before offering up a solution, as well-thought-out as it might be.
One of the most important lessons he had begun to understand was that small failures and mistakes were not permanent.
Not in his studies, nor in his efforts to care for Abbeygate.
And most importantly, not in his relationships with his wife and daughter.
He was not perfect by any means and was often less patient or compassionate than he should be.
But that did not deem him a failure or dictate that he needed to run away again.
Instead, it was merely a reminder that while his love for his wife and daughter was deep, true, and enduring, it still required effort.
And when needed, they helped each other make adjustments for the benefit of their family.
“Amor, I do believe you are forgetting something,” Ana called from her chair in the corner. “Por qué today es tan importante?”
Speaking of adjustments and corrections, it appeared one was at hand. Peter laughed.
“Why is today important? Well, let me consider. Today is not the anniversary of our wedding, nor is it your birthday, or mine, or Essie’s for that matter.
It is not Christmas or Pascua or el Día de los Inocentes.
Now, what could I be forgetting that would be of some importance to us?
” He strolled over to his wife and kissed the curly, unruly top of her head, as a smaller head of hair, similarly unruly, finally lolled in a milk-induced dream in her arms.
Ana looked up at him, her ebony eyes wide with feeling, while her lips quirked in a bittersweet smile. “San Sebastián,” she whispered.
Peter sighed heavily and lowered himself to the floor at her side. “Right you are, my dear.”
“You forgot,” Ana said.
But her voice was not thin with pain or criticism or even questioning.
Instead, it was soft with some other emotion entirely.
Relief, perhaps. Peter reached up for his wife’s hand and met her eyes again.
Yes, she was relieved. He could see it in the smoothness of her brow and the relaxed tilt of her jaw.
Indeed, he had forgotten. There had been months when Peter had believed he would never be able to forget it.
The destruction, the horror, the unrestrained and inhumane violence.
But now it had been days, perhaps weeks, since the event even crossed his mind.
Slowly, he had learned that there was too much evil that occurred in the war for justice to be served on behalf of all of it.
No man would ever be able to right all of those wrongs.
And that was why there was need for a loving and forgiving God who could offer healing to a broken world.
“Has a year truly passed? And only a year?” he asked as he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “It feels as if that were an entire lifetime ago.”
“So much has changed since that time,” Ana said. “We have changed since that time. A great deal.”
Peter nodded and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Maybe we ought to commemorate it somehow. Light some candles, perhaps. In remembrance of your Papá and the others who perished there.”
“I think that is a lovely notion, amor. I would like that very much.”
“Very well. Consider it a new family tradition,” Peter said, his mind already spinning with ideas.
But then the slightest shadow of pain crossed Ana’s face.
Peter paused his formulating and tightened his grip on Ana’s hand.
However, it seemed to be more of a reflection of past pain than the true sharpness of lingering, present pain.
“Is there anything else you wish to discuss regarding San Sebastián?”
She rested her head against the back of her chair, closing her eyes. “En este momento, no.”
“I propose that we reflect instead upon something of much greater importance. As you said, you and I have changed a great deal since those events. We are married now, of course. You have brought precious, new life into our world and our hearts. I have left the army entirely and find great joy in that decision, something I never could have anticipated.”
“And we are in love,” Ana said, her tone teasing as she raised her eyes pointedly, as if he had forgotten that as well.
“Most deeply and permanently and unforgettably so.” Peter smiled as he rose to his feet to better reach his wife’s lips. She laughed into his kiss, which only gave him an excuse to kiss her longer and more thoroughly.
“And we found home here,” Ana said once he released her, her lips full and cheeks bright with color.
“We made this our home,” Peter said, as he pulled his wife to her feet, careful of the slumbering babe in her arms. He led her to the window and wrapped them both in an embrace as they looked out over the gardens and land they treasured.
The name of Abbeygate had never held a special significance for Peter until now.
As a young boy, in fact, he hadn’t given it any thought at all.
But when they had arrived at the manor nearly a year ago, he had only thought of the name in relation to the old stone church that sat some distance behind it, as if the property was a gateway to the church.
But now he could see that for him and Ana, Abbeygate had been a gateway to peace, a gateway to God, a gateway to healing.
It had become the place of belonging that neither of them had ever imagined they would have.
Abbeygate was, in every essence of the word, a safe haven.