Chapter 1
Gertie couldn't breathe.
She lay there, sprawled in the haystack behind her cottage with the weight of Archie pressing down on top of her—one unruly lock of dark hair flopping in his eyes—as he cracked her heart in two pieces. “I…I don't understand. You're teaching in the school now, so why do you have to leave?”
“I’m not teaching, Gertie,” Archie said softly, frustration lacing his words.
“I’m a teacher’s aide, you know that’s different.
Reverend Goodman has secured a place for me at a teacher’s school.
That will allow me to become a teacher and later the school’s headmaster.
” His gaze locked with hers as he seemed to will her to understand.
But it were as though someone had stabbed her through the heart as she stared up into his familiar face. “Bloody hell…I want to understand Archie, I do. But in this moment, it just feels as though you're leaving me behind.”
His long dark lashes lowered as though attempting to shield him briefly, but then his big brown eyes refocused on her. Without his spectacles, Gertie felt as though she could see every golden fleck that danced in his eyes. But the distraction quickly dissipated with his next words.
He sighed. “I suppose in a way, I am. But it is temporary. I swear I'll be back for you.”
Gertie bit her lip to hold back her tears. She knew in her heart that if he left, he'd never come back for her.
Certainly he had every intention of doing so—she'd never known Archie to be false. But she also knew life had a way of twisting and turning in the most unexpected of ways. Look at her own life already. Her mother dead and her father the town drunkard.
Gertie sucked in a breath. “It's a year, Archie, with the extra coursework to become a headmaster. We both know how much can happen in that amount of time.” She looked off to the side where her family cow, Isadora, stood idly munching grass.
She looked back at Archie, trying to memorize the curve of his cheek.
“If you loved me, Archie, you would marry me now.”
She hadn’t intended to say such a thing. The awful, desperate words had fallen from her lips, riding a burst of fear from deep within her soul as they lay there in their cozy nest in the haystack. But there was no taking them back now. No retrieving the hurtful demand.
Archie sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide. “Gertie, you're—you’re asking me to choose between you and my dream! Not to mention, attending will allow me to support you properly.”
They both fell silent for a long moment as their gazes clashed. Her heart squeezed as she silently pleaded for him to relent, to not leave, but after her mistake she did not dare trust her words.
Archie opened his mouth as though to speak, and hesitated as sadness welled in his eyes.
“The school does not allow married men to attend. They think married men are far too distracted.” He shifted his weight off her and rolled so he sat with his back to her.
“I'm sorry Gertie. I have to go. It’s my dream. It's our future.”
She sat up and tied her bodice closed with shaking hands.
I’m losing him. Her chest felt as though Isadora had sat upon it as she tried to pick straw from her hair.
Breath sawed in and out of her chest, sorrow washed over her, but she somehow kept her tears at bay.
Just. “I’m sorry I said that, about marrying me.
I know it’s your dream to be a teacher—and I know you believe you will return, Archie. I only wish I did too.”
Gertie’s voice cracked as she stood and continued to pick straw from her person and hair.
Then she shook her skirts out and tried to smooth out any wrinkles from where they had been bunched up around her hips.
It was easier to focus on her appearance than the pain spearing through her heart.
Despair swept over her as she struggled to hold her shattered pieces together until she could be alone.
Is this the last time I’ll ever see him?.
Archie stood as well, producing his spectacles from some hidden pocket he always placed them in if they weren't on his face. He reached up and helped pluck the last of the straw from her tresses. “You'll wait for me, though? Wait for me to come back? For us to be together?”
She sighed softly, her heart squeezing in her chest. “I can’t promise that, Archie, you know that better than anyone.
Papa has mentioned the Powells's son a few times already. With our small farms side by side and no sons of his own, Papa wants to be sure I'm taken care of, know there will be someone to keep working the land. Heaven knows he’s too sozzled to do it half the time.” She knew she sounded bitter, but life had treated her poorly.
And today was no exception.
She wasn't one to dwell typically, but losing Archie was a blow she hadn't been prepared for. Not that she had been prepared to lose her mother as a girl and so take care of her father.
It was almost certainly a sin, but she blamed the Reverend Goodman for this moment. He'd never approved of Archie's association with her—and as his guardian, she supposed he had every right to object. But this was more than a mere objection. It was the first time he had taken direct action.
“It's just a year, Gertie. I'll be home during breaks and for holidays. And once I graduate, I promise I'll marry you. You're the only woman I'll ever love.” Archie cupped her face in his big, ink-stained hands and kissed her gently.
Her body roused once again—despite the fact they had just coupled—as he slid his tongue past her lips to taste and explore.
With a soft moan she melted into him, letting her arms slip around his waist as she tried to memorize what it felt like to hold him close.
One last kiss, she promised herself. One last moment to memorize how his arms felt wrapped around her. One last taste.
Just as they were about to be swept up in the kiss, Isadora let out a long, low moo, causing both of them to jump. They stood there staring at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch out forever. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking on her part?
Gertie inhaled slowly. “I'll always love you, Archie. But I won’t promise you that I’ll wait. I can’t—not when I don’t really have a say in the matter.” She tried to keep the bitterness from her tone, but knew she’d not been entirely successful.
It was unfair that the men in her life were the ones always making decisions for her—well, not just her, but any woman.
First her father, and now Archie. Neither of them seemed to consider what she wanted; that was the awful part of it all.
She had no one looking out for her needs.
No one to protect, or even inquire after her dreams.
“If something happens and you need me, send word through the Reverend and I'll come for you.” Archie was so earnest that she nodded—fool that she was.
“I promise I'll send word through the Reverend if I need you.”
Gertie tried to reassure herself. Archie had a good heart and had never seen the Reverend’s distaste for her. Not truly. But she made the promise anyway because it made Archie happy. And she wanted him to be happy. “I promise.”
He nodded and offered her a bittersweet smile. “Well, I…I suppose I'd best go. I must pack so I can leave in the morning. I love you, Gertie.”
Archie turned and walked away, not waiting for her to say the words again. Unable to stop herself, she followed him to the front of the cottage and watched him walk down the lane until he disappeared.
Pulling her inner strength around her like a cloak, Gertie straightened up and turned back to the house.
As she walked into the small cottage she shared with her father, she mentally packed away her girlish fantasies of wearing her best green gown—the one that made her green eyes as brilliant as a new meadow—with flowers woven in her hair as she walked down the aisle to marry Archie.
Instead, she focused dully on the chores she had to do before she could cook dinner. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day, and not just because she had to help with the harvest. She could allow herself room to cry later, in the dark of night.
Four months later
Gertie lay in bed letting her hand rest on the small but firm and incontrovertible proof that she was in fact pregnant.
Fucking hell.
She'd been afraid this was true for weeks now, but as the flatness of her stomach had gently rounded, it became clear she and Archie had made a baby.
The problem was Archie had been gone for months, and she was unmarried and pregnant.
She supposed she could no longer put off going to Reverend Goodman and asking him to send a letter to Archie, but what would his reaction be?
Delaying her task further was of no use; time was not on her side any longer.
Rising from her bed, she dressed and headed to the kitchen.
There she set out her morning tea and toast along with a pen and a precious piece of the paper Archie had given her for her birthday.
Her gut churned, the nausea wreaking havoc with her equilibrium, and for once she didn't know if it was the baby or her nerves.
Having taken a bite of the dry toast, she washed it down with a sip of tea.
Breathing in deep, she penned her note to Archie.
My dearest Archie,
I am afraid that while my heart was willing to wait for your return as long as Papa allowed it, my body has now made that impossible.
I am with child. In a matter of weeks, I shall no longer be able to hide the truth of what has happened between us.
While I know this to be a blessing, I fear how others will treat our child if you do not return and marry me as soon as possible.
I know it was your dream to become a teacher, but I need you by my side in the forthcoming weeks. I believe we will find a way for you to realize that dream one day, but your child and I both need you now. I shall wait for word from you and do my best to conceal the truth as long as I can.
Come quickly, please.
All my love,
Gertie
She quickly sanded the page, folded it, and sealed it with wax. After finishing her toast and tea, she rose for the walk to Reverend Goodman's home in the village.
Twenty minutes later she stood on the doorstep of the rectory, just to the right of the church. She knocked briskly and waited as her stomach flipped over. What would he say?
The Reverend’s housekeeper opened the door and stared at Gertie as though a bit of flotsam had wafted onto her doorstep. “What do you want, girly?”
“I need to speak with Reverend Goodman, if he has a moment.” Gertie stood there nervous but resolute that she needed to send this letter to Archie.
The housekeeper shut the door in her face, leaving her standing there for a moment wondering if she'd gone to find the Reverend or if she'd left her there to rot.
The door of the cottage opened again, but this time it was the Reverend himself. “What is it you want, Gertrude?”
She refused to wither even under the cold, implacable stare of Reverend Goodman. “I have a letter for Archie. I was hoping you might send it to him, along with anything you might be sending yourself.”
The Reverend stared at her, his judgment written plain across his face. “I never approved of Archibald cavorting about with the daughter of the town drunk. What makes you think I would send him a letter on your behalf?”
She needed this man to send her letter, so Gertie bit her tongue to stymie any retort she might have and drew a deep breath.
“Regardless of what you think of me, Archie and I care about each other. He believes you care about him too. It is very important that he receives this letter as soon as possible.” She shoved the folded and sealed note forward so he could take the missive.
The gray-haired man looked at her as though she'd handed him a used chamber pot. Finally, he sighed—so heavily one would have thought he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders—and took her letter. “Very well—but do not think this will be a regular occurrence.”
Gertie pulled her shoulders back and straightened to her full height, looking the man full in the face. “I am under no illusions of this being anything but a singular event. Good day, Reverend.”
She turned and walked away, her head held high. Now all that remained to be seen was whether Archie would come to her…or if she would be left on her own.