Bitter and Sweet

Chapter 18 Tabitha

Charleston, South Carolina

October 1918

It was the day before Joseph’s birthday, which meant it was nearly a year to the day that he’d told Tabitha about his wife, when she woke up to the horrible press of dread in her spirit. She didn’t care much about celebrating with him anymore. Those days were over for them. Only the children and his obligation to them occupied her mind. Joseph didn’t see it that way, so he still pressed her for lovemaking when he wanted. He insisted he was a man without comfort and love because of his wife’s illness and he was desperate to have something normal, but still, he’d stolen Tabitha’s reputation with a lie. She resented him deeply for it, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t need him. Thanks to Miss Libby’s tea, she didn’t worry much about having another baby. Tabitha also demanded more money from him. She figured if she was going to be a kept woman, Joseph was going to give her more for the shame of it.

Tabitha saved every penny she could. One day she’d have enough money to start fresh, and she’d leave his place and figure out a life on her own. That’s what she told herself every night when she climbed into bed. That’s what she asked God to give her. God still loved her—that’s what the Bible said—so she took care to pray for deliverance from this sinful situation.

The dread she’d felt over Joseph’s birthday this year continued to hover in the back of her mind. She had not heard from him or seen him. Tabitha checked her calendar and counted the days. It had been two weeks. By the time the days reached four weeks, the dread overwhelmed her. It did not help that the mayor ordered churches, theaters, and schools closed on account of the Spanish flu. It meant she and the children were trapped in the house, using only the food reserves she had. As the days went on, the city became more closed down, but Tabitha didn’t think even that would keep Joseph away from them for so long. Something was wrong. She sensed it deep in the pit of her gut. By the end of the week, there was a knock on the door. Tabitha opened it to Joseph’s driver. “Mr. Flynn,” she said.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come, but I had to travel to Atlanta...” He paused briefly and asked, “May I come in?”

“Of course. I’m so sorry.” Tabitha stepped back, and he passed by her. Joseph and the maintenance man had been the only two men who had ever entered this apartment. The maintenance man was shorter than Tabitha was, so she wasn’t used to anyone filling the height of the room except Joseph. Now Mr. Flynn did. “Can I get you something? I have water and tea.”

“No, miss, I’ll be taking my lunch down the street in a few minutes.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know why you’re here instead of Joseph. I haven’t seen him—”

He removed his hat and with it pulled down the veil of pain he’d been hiding under the rim. “Miss, I’m sorry to tell you this, but...” He swallowed deeply before finishing his sentence. “Mr. McCoy has passed on.”

Shock clenched Tabitha’s body like a fist, and she could not breathe through the jolt of pain that came over her. “Excuse me. I need—” Her words and air left her. It was his hands and then strong arms that kept her up before moving her to the sofa where she sat.

“I’m sorry. I should have had you sit before telling you.”

“What... happened? How could he be...” Beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. She was going to be sick to her stomach. “When?” she cried or growled. She wasn’t sure. The sound of her own voice was foreign.

“It was two weeks ago.”

Two weeks?That hit her in the chest hard enough to stop her heart. “Two weeks?”

“Mr. McCoy was attacked leaving a poker game by a man who owed him a debt. He went to the hospital. He was there getting better... but he came down with that awful flu, miss, and well, you know, lots of people are dyin’ from it.”

The flu? Something in nature that they couldn’t even see had taken down a man as powerful as Joseph McCoy. That seemed impossible to believe, but she believed it because she’d prayed too many nights to be free of him. She hadn’t meant it in this way. Never in this way. In the middle of all her mixed emotions, he’d been suffering. Tabitha sobbed for a long time. Her tears were from feelings of loss and guilt. When she was done, Mr. Flynn was sitting across from her. Margaret was on his lap. Amos was at his feet. Both looked terrified.

Tabitha wiped her eyes and nose with a towel he’d fetched from her washroom.

She raised her hand and motioned to Amos. “Come here, baby.” Amos raced to her. She picked him up and put him on the sofa under her arm. “I’m so very sorry for all this.”

“Miss, I understand. You have nothing to apologize for,” Mr. Flynn said.

Margaret scooted down from his lap and joined Amos next to her. “Was he here in Charleston?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s buried... without me?”

“Buried a week after. I had to travel to pick up family for the funeral, which is why I’m just today getting here.”

Family that was more important than her and her poor children. Tabitha looked at them. They absorbed her sadness but had no idea how much they’d eventually feel when they learned they wouldn’t see their papa again and her baby asleep in her bed, would never know him. She had not asked God for that. “Margaret, you take your brother and go to your room while I talk to Mr. Flynn ’bout grown-up business.”

Margaret picked up a doll she’d abandoned on the floor, took her brother’s hand, and they disappeared into their bedroom.

Once she saw they were gone, Tabitha turned to Mr. Flynn and asked, “How was he hurt?”

“I think it’s better you don’t know.”

Tabitha stood. “Better for who? I have three children without a father.” She walked around the sofa and pressed her fists against the upholstery across the back.

Mr. Flynn released a long plume of air. “He was stabbed.”

The thought of a knife in his body sickened her. She’d seen a crumpled body before. Not from stabbing, but her brother, Hank, lying in the road, bleeding as his life left him. Maybe he was right in assuming she didn’t want to know. Tears leaked from Tabitha’s eyes again. She wasn’t sure if she was crying for Joseph or Hank at that moment. She reasoned both. She wiped her face again.

“Is there anything else you need to know?” Mr. Flynn asked.

“What of his wife?”

Mr. Flynn seemed shocked by that question. “What about her?”

“I know that she is unwell.”

He hesitated, confusion etching lines in his forehead. “Mrs. McCoy is... she’s fine. As fine as she can be.”

“I only found out about his wife last year,” Tabitha offered, needing him to know she hadn’t chosen to be a woman who couldn’t attend her own man’s funeral.

“You didn’t know he was married?”

“No. What kind of woman would...” Her words trailed off. “I never knew. I was demanding he marry me, and he wouldn’t, so he finally told me.”

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t know you didn’t know about Mrs. McCoy.”

“I wouldn’t have made myself a married man’s mistress. I’m abandoned here. I have nothing.” Tabitha dropped her head back and closed her eyes for a minute. An ache inched its way up her neck to her left temple. She opened her eyes and looked at Mr. Flynn again. “I don’t even know anything about this place. The rent. Who to pay. When it’s due.”

Mr. Flynn was quick to answer. “Mr. McCoy owns—or owned—this building.”

Now Tabitha felt even dumber.

Mr. Flynn continued, “I believe you probably have some time before his family will insert themselves into his business affairs.”

“They know nothing about me. Nothing about his children.” Tabitha pushed her fist deeper into the back of the sofa. She needed to be alone now with her grief and stupidity. “Thank you for coming here to tell me.”

“I can’t say it was my pleasure.” He walked to the door, paused, and reached into his pocket. “I almost forgot.” He stepped back to her and handed her a piece of paper. “This is my address. If you have anything urgent, you can send me a letter.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your concern so much.”

“Mr. McCoy was a good employer. I know he cared for you and these children a great deal.”

It was Tabitha’s turn to sigh. “I suppose.”

“Miss, he did. I know he did.”

“Having a sick wife is no reason to deceive someone, but... I shan’t speak ill of him while he’s in his grave.”

Mr. Flynn stepped through the door, and she closed it behind him. The gravity of grief pulled her down the door until she landed on the floor. Miss Libby’s warning about Joseph came back to her.

“Him ansa for what he do.”

Tabitha stuck her fist in her mouth and fought howling again. She didn’t want to scare the children. She had enough fear for the whole lot of them, because with Joseph’s death, she would be kept no more. She had to take care of her own family.

***

On the morning of Saturday, December 7, 1918, readers of the Southern Reporter woke up to good news.

FLU EPIDEMIC DYING HERE,a headline on page 2 of the newspaper reported. Only Thirty-Five New Cases Reported Yesterday.

Thirty-five cases in all of Charleston. This pestilence was nearly gone. It was far too late for Joseph, her children, her life. It had only been a month, and already Tabitha was pulling up the floorboard and reaching into the metal box for the money she’d hidden there.

It had grown some, as she was in the habit of saving a little of what Joseph gave her. Not trusting him meant she was always preparing in her mind to leave him and this life behind. But even with what she put back, she only had a hundred and ten dollars. That would last her some time but not long. A landlord would eventually come looking for rent.

Tabitha sat at her table with the money in hand. She needed a job, she needed help with the children, she needed the life Joseph had promised, but Joseph was gone and so was that dream life. Tears prickled her eyes, just as they had every day since Joseph’s passing, but the time for crying was over. Joseph might not have been able to legally marry her, but surely his family would want to know his children. Determined, she grabbed some paper and a pen. It was time to be strong for her children. It was time to come out of the shadows. With fire in her heart and the last glimmer of hope, she penned a letter to Mr. Flynn.

It was a little over a week before he appeared at her door again, and he was none too eager to fulfill her request to be taken to the McCoy house to meet Joseph’s mother, but he realized she was determined.

Once the carriage stopped, Tabitha waited for him to open the door.

“It’s just over there,” he said, pointing to a large redbrick house on the corner of Queen and Johns streets. “I can’t take you to the front. Someone could see me.” He took her hand and helped her down.

He took the children out, too, and impressed upon Tabitha a final warning. “I know these people. This is not a good idea.”

“I have to try.” Tabitha thanked him, gathered the children, and made her way down the street.

Standing outside the estate of Lady Charlotte McCoy was intimidating but necessary. The house was a large Victorian. It appeared to be at least three floors and had enormous bay windows on each side. The pitched roof was covered in gleaming red tiles. The yard was pretty and neatly trimmed with a garden in the front. Tabitha steeled herself and pushed the doorbell.

The door opened, and after she looked Tabitha and the children over thoroughly, a maid asked her business.

“My name is Tabitha Cooper, and I would like an audience with Mrs. Charlotte McCoy.”

“Lady McCoy,” she said, correcting Tabitha with intensity, “is not expecting a visitor.”

“I am aware. I could have written, but I–I thought it more impactful if I came directly.”

The maid only pitched an eyebrow at that statement. “How do you know Lady McCoy?”

She hefted the baby on her hip. “I knew her son.”

The maid’s eyebrow came down. She looked at the children, and Tabitha could see she knew. “I will check to see if she’ll receive you.” She closed the door, leaving them on the porch.

Minutes later, the door opened again, and Tabitha was shown into the house. The first thing to capture her attention was the staircase. It came down on two sides. The entryway was huge and airy with hardwood doors to the left and right leading to rooms. Dark hardwood floors contrasted with the white walls.

A woman stepped into the entrance of a sitting room just to the left of the door. Her height, statuesque like a queen. Her light brown skin glowed in the light coming from the bay window to her left. An elegant black tea dress wrapped well around her frame. Tabitha knew she was Joseph’s mother. He had looked like her.

Her eyes fell on the children briefly, and Lady McCoy said, “Mae, will you take them into the kitchen?”

“I would prefer they stay with me,” Tabitha said.

“I will not discuss your business with small ears present.”

The matter was settled. Mae was already at Tabitha’s side.

She leaned over and told Margaret and Amos to mind themselves, then put baby Tom in the maid’s waiting arms.

“I don’t have much time,” Lady McCoy said. “Come in.”

Tabitha followed her into the room. Fresh flowers were in vases all over the room. The strong scent of honeysuckle and lilac perfumed the air.

“My maid tells me you knew my late son.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lady McCoy walked to one of the two sofas in the room, took a seat, and motioned with her hand for Tabitha to take a seat on the chair opposite her. Once she was seated she said, “I do not receive visitors that I do not know.”

“And I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Many of Joseph’s schoolmates and business associates have called over the months, so I’ve tried to be flexible to accommodate people who loved him.”

“That’s kind of you in your personal time of grief, ma’am.”

Lady McCoy cocked her head. The suspicion in her eyes came across in her voice. “You asked for an audience with me so that you could be impactful. How did you know my son?”

Tabitha didn’t want to shock this woman, but there was no way to say this and have it not be shocking. There simply was not, so she cleared her throat and spoke. “I was... Joseph and I...”

“Joseph and you what?”

Tabitha wiped her sweaty palms on her skirts. “Those three children are his.”

Lady McCoy didn’t move at first, didn’t even blink, and then she chuckled uncomfortably before standing. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

“It is not.” She said the words firmly as if she was as certain as she was that the sun would set and rise again.

“If you’ll look at the children, you’ll see some of your son in their faces. My oldest boy looks just like his father.”

“Your son looks like half a dozen darkies I’ve seen on the street in the last week.” She stepped close to where Tabitha was sitting. “I do not believe my son would lie with the likes of you and sire children.”

Darkies. The likes of me.Tabitha struggled to keep calm. “Then you didn’t know him.”

“And you knew him so well, did you? My son was a married man.”

Tabitha shook her head. “I did not know that at first. It wasn’t until last year that he told me about his wife.”

“So are you in the habit of having children with men who aren’t your husband?”

“No, ma’am.”

She continued, “Even if the first child was an accident, you had two more children.”

Tabitha hated the way she towered over her. It made her uncomfortable because she had to look up at her to take in the nasty words she was saying. “We were a family. He said he couldn’t divorce his wife on account of her condition.”

Curiosity shifted Lady McCoy’s features to confusion. “Her condition?”

Something within Tabitha shifted too. Her voice, the tone of it when she posed the question, was a sound like a warning whistle letting her know more disappointment was coming. She lost confidence and, because of it, lost her words for a minute.

“Explain what you mean,” Lady McCoy said.

“Joseph told me she was not well in her mind...”

Lady McCoy grunted. She walked to the door, reached for a rope, and pulled it. The maid reentered the room. Lady McCoy called her close and whispered something to her. Tabitha took a deep breath. She could hardly bear this. It was too much, and she wanted to make sure her children were all right in that kitchen.

The maid left, and Lady McCoy said, “You were saying.”

What was she saying? She cycled back and remembered she’d been speaking about Joseph’s wife. “He said she was unwell and it was not something he could legally leave her for.”

Tabitha saw nothing in Lady McCoy’s placid face, so she kept talking. “Joseph said it would be difficult and immoral to divorce her.”

“Unlike having three children out of wedlock.”

Tabitha had been prepared for this. No one could make her feel worse about her affair with Joseph than she could herself. “I’m not the first woman to fall in love with a man and accept his lies, and I won’t be the last.”

“Don’t sass me, gal.”

Galwas a smack to her face. She swallowed and calmed herself before speaking again. “I’m only saying I didn’t come here to be shamed. If there is shame, he and I both own it.”

“Do not speak ill of my dead son.”

“Any harsh words I have are not because I wish to speak ill of him. I loved him...” Tabitha’s voice failed her. She hadn’t loved Joseph in a long time. “He didn’t expect to leave here like this. Joseph would never have left me without some way to take care of his children.”

“Which is my evidence that those are not his. He would have made a will. Had a letter of some kind. There is nothing in his things, and he was sick for weeks before he died.”

“Still, I’m sure he did not expect to die.” Lady McCoy didn’t seem fazed by Tabitha’s statement. “He would have married me if not for his wife.”

“I don’t think so.” If Lady McCoy could have cut her with her eyes, she’d be bleeding. “Joseph knew fully what was expected of him... the kind of woman he should marry and have children with.”

Tabitha took that dig. Lady McCoy probably meant light-skinned like his mother. Educated. Well-bred. “His driver knows me.”

“Don’t bring my employee into this, young lady.”

“But he does know.”

“What he may know is that my son visited you—perhaps in an indecent way, but I won’t embarrass him with such questions.”

“I live in his building on Calhoun Street. I only ask to continue to live there without rent and to be given some small allowance to help with food and childcare for the children while I work.”

“That’s all,” Lady McCoy said, the hint of a chuckle in her voice.

Tabitha heard heels clicking on the floor in the entry. Expensive ones that did not belong to a maid. A woman entered the room. A beautiful, tiny slip of a woman in her late twenties. She was nearly the color of cotton with big, dark eyes and silky black hair that she wore pinned in a severe bun. Her dress... black. Her face... drawn from sadness.

This visit had been a kind of hell, with Joseph’s mother’s evil disregard, but Tabitha had a feeling it was about to become worse. Lady McCoy had not called this near-white woman into the room for no purpose. The sneer on her face evidence that she was intent on hurting Tabitha.

“This is Mrs. Evelyn McCoy, my daughter-in-law. As you can see, she is very well.”

“What is this about, Mother?” Evelyn’s voice floated across the high-ceilinged room like a song—sweet and pretty. Her voice was void of trouble.

“It is about nothing, my dear. This young lady knew Joseph. She needed to see you, but I told her we don’t have time for a visit today. We are expecting friends for tea.”

Tabitha opened her mouth. She wanted to say something, but Lady McCoy’s eyes silenced her. “I’ll join you in the library in a few minutes.”

Joseph’s wife left the room without so much as a goodbye to Tabitha, who understood why his mother didn’t believe her. Evelyn and she couldn’t be more different.

Lady McCoy spoke. “I am a generous woman, but I will not be conned by you, young lady. You will not be the only one to make this claim. Of that I am sure. These things happen when men of Joseph’s stature die. They happen all the time.”

“You speak like you know your son’s character was above me, but he didn’t just die. He was stabbed in a brothel where he played cards, which means it was not.”

“I thought you loved him and would not speak ill of him.” Lady McCoy’s words came through gritted teeth.

“That was before I found out he played me for a fool. That he lied to me about his wife’s illness.” Hot tears burned the back of her eyes. She felt faint, like she didn’t know if she could stay on her feet. “I have no money. I’ve spent all he gave me and what I saved. I have no way to feed your grandchildren.”

“My grandchildren are at school.” Lady McCoy walked to a desk, opened the drawer, and removed something Tabitha could not see from her position. Then she rang the bell again. When the maid entered, she handed her an envelope. “Give this to Miss Cooper and see her out appropriately.” She left the room. Left Tabitha with the maid without the courtesy of a goodbye, in the same way her daughter-in-law had gone.

The maid pushed the envelope at her and said, “Miss, there is nothing for you here septin’ this.”

Tabitha opened the envelope to find a ten-dollar bill. In all the grand splendor of this house, this woman handed her ten dollars for the entire future of her grandchildren. Tabitha’s heart sank to the floor. She felt tears burning in her eyes.

The maid took her to the kitchen. The cook, a kind-looking woman, handed her a small rag with some biscuits, jam, fried chicken, and a few pieces of sliced salt pork with a ball of rice in a smaller cloth. “For your trip home with the children and your supper.” Then she turned and resumed what she was doing.

“Thank you,” Tabitha whispered to her back. She gathered her baby, and with Margaret and Amos at her side, she turned to leave the same way she came, but the maid said, “Miss...” She opened the back door. “Godspeed.”

She wanted to be strong for her children, to not cry in front of them, but these tears she could not stop. Her heart ached so that she felt it in her back, a sharp pain dead center that radiated up into her shoulders and neck.

“Lord, keep me,” she cried. She had nothing. What was she going to do? She steeled herself in the same way she had before she entered that awful house and put one foot in front of the other until she was walking down the street. But to where? She had no idea how to get to a streetcar or trolley from here. She wished she’d left the children with Miss Libby, but she thought she would need to present them to Joseph’s family as proof of their relationship. Her foolish heart never expected to be turned out this way.

“Miss Cooper.” The voice came from behind her. She turned quickly. It was Mr. Flynn. He hadn’t left her. “If you’ll walk down to the Nazarene Church”—he pointed—“I’ll pick you up at the steps on the side of the building and take you back to your apartment.”

Tabitha turned in the direction he pointed and, seeing a steeple in the distance, thanked him and walked. She arrived at the steps to the massive church and sat with the children. It was only a few minutes until the carriage arrived and they were safely inside. The visit to the house had not solved her problem, but at least the smaller problem of getting back to her flat was resolved.

The next day, she left the children with Miss Libby and went to see a lawyer. He had the reputation of working with Negro women on all types of legal issues.

With no appointment, she waited until he could see her, which was hours after she’d come in.

“I’m sorry to hear you lost someone to the flu. My sister-in-law was quite ill. Fortunately, she recovered,” he said, sliding into the chair behind his desk.

Tabitha sat in front of him and told him her story. She ended with the question, “What do I do if his mother will not give me their inheritance?”

“Was there a will?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Are all three his children?”

“Yes,” she said somewhat insulted that he’d think she had children with yet another man.

“Well, a husband’s property is willed to his wife. Your mother-in-law may want to keep it, but—”

“I was not his wife.”

“You weren’t married?”

“That’s what a not-wife is, sir.” Tabitha hadn’t meant to be so sharp. She closed her eyes and dropped her head. “Forgive me for my sharp tone.”

He continued with his questions as if her nasty comment did not matter. “Has the family acknowledged the children before? Publicly. Ever?”

“They met us yesterday. I don’t believe his mother or wife knew we existed. His mother seemed quite surprised by my visit, and she was angry.”

He paused for a few seconds, surveying her, possibly judging her, but then he pressed his pen to the paper he was writing on and asked, “Do you have any letters, photographs, witnesses?”

“He was very careful not to...” Tabitha started. “No.”

“Surely, there’s someone.”

“His carriage driver, but he’s employed by his mother now.”

“You have children but no proof that they are his, no witnesses at all who will come forward?”

“I don’t believe so.”

He put his pen on the desk and clenched his hands together. “I’m not sure I can do anything for you. Perhaps you can find out the pastor of his family church and speak with him.”

“What will the pastor do?”

“If he believes you, he may ask the family to hear you again.”

“That’s it?” Tabitha spread her arms. “Their pastor? He was a lying adulterer, and his mother is godless. I don’t think they listen to man or God.”

“I’m afraid it’s my only suggestion.” His eyes softened when he asked, “Miss Cooper, do you have family?”

“None that want me.”

“There must be someone.”

“There isn’t. My stepfather didn’t want me without children. I–I humiliated my mother.” I summed up my thoughts on the situation. “She is always his wife first. Always.”

“The path to redemption is not as narrow as we think, Miss Cooper.” He leaned back against his chair and studied Tabitha for a minute. “Are you sure you’re not being prideful?”

“I’m sure I’d rather die than face that rejection, sir.”

“But you wouldn’t rather your children suffer the consequences of that decision with you.” He let those words sit between them for nearly a minute before standing. “I wish you the very best.”

Tabitha thanked him for his time and left for her walk home.

***

The next day, she was surprised by an unexpected knock at the door. It was Mr. Flynn again.

She let him in, and he removed his hat. They got the formalities out of the way before Tabitha had him sit. “I have something for you, Miss Tabitha.”

He reached into his pocket and removed an envelope and placed it on the table between them. She opened it and found money, over a hundred dollars.

“I don’t understand.”

“Mr. McCoy had me take a silver watch for repair. I picked it up on the morning of his death, and I have sold it for you.”

Tabitha looked at the money again.

“No one at the McCoy house knows about the watch,” Mr. Flynn assured her. “He won it in a poker game a few weeks before he was... hurt. The man owed him more than a hundred dollars, so he offered the watch.”

Once again, Tabitha’s eyes filled with tears. For every disappointment, she had the joy of a kindness bestowed on her by the McCoy servants.

“Thank you. This will carry me for some time.”

“Enough time, I hope.”

He handed her a piece of paper. “I’m moving into the main house next week to become the full-time driver for Lady McCoy. She has purchased an automobile for me to learn. This is the address of a close friend. You may write to me if you need something urgent. I don’t know if I can help, but...”

Tabitha took the paper. “Your first name? I don’t know it.”

“Micah, miss.”

“Micah, I will forever be in your debt.”

“It’s Christian charity, miss. The kind the McCoys lack.”

She nodded.

“If I can make a suggestion...”

“You just saved my life. Surely you can say anything to me.”

“You should go home. If you need help doing that, I can see what I can do to assist.”

“You are aware of how I left my family?”

“I drive in this city every day. My eyes see things I wish they hadn’t. A single woman with no family is prey for many troubling situations.”

Tabitha gave him a tiny smile. “I will consider everything you have said.”

He tipped his hat and went on this way. She had been warned by the lawyer and now Micah Flynn, but she trusted the voice in her heart. She only failed when she didn’t listen to it. She had enough money to make a new start right where she was.

But their warnings stuck in her mind and sat heavy on her heart for a while. She found prey to be such a peculiar word choice. Prey was a creature that was living its life one moment and hunted the next. That was how life shifted, moment by moment. She thought victim to be easier to digest, but she understood. He was trying to give her a firm warning. He wasn’t wrong for it. She’d lain in bed on many a night and wondered what made her such easy prey for a man like Joseph. He lured her away from her plans and her family. Her children were not a source of regret, but her stained reputation was. And she had no real explanation for her folly other than infatuation. Until she had something better, she could not go home. She would not go back with regrets and no reason. She was in this city now, and she would figure out a way to survive in it.