Chapter 23
The deep ache inside Zaira was too much to bear. She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks, but they flowed anyway. She hugged her arms around her chest to ward off the pain in her heart, but it throbbed regardless.
“Zaira.” A soft voice from the balcony door sounded behind her.
She didn’t have to turn to know it was Alannah.
After the discussion in the bedroom earlier, Kiernan had probably gone straight to Alannah and told her everything, including Zaira’s refusal to marry Bellamy.
Kiernan had likely sent his wife to work at convincing Zaira to go through with the wedding.
“I can’t do it.” Zaira sniffed back the tears. “So you may as well go tell Kiernan I won’t change my mind.”
The pad of footsteps crossed the second-floor balcony at the back of the house until they stopped beside Zaira, where she sat in one of the elegant iron chairs that overlooked the gravel driveway, carriage house, and other small outbuildings.
A few trees and neatly trimmed shrubs bordered both sides of the property, and clusters of asters and irises grew in the couple of raised flower beds that lined the house.
She’d come out hoping the view would give her some solace, but it hadn’t worked. Deep inside, she knew that admitting to the truth about everything had been the right thing to do. If only the turmoil had gone away instead of raging harder.
Alannah dragged a chair closer to Zaira’s and then sat, fluffing out the silky skirt that had once belonged to Zaira but that she’d gladly and willingly donated to Alannah.
“Please, Alannah.” Zaira wiped at the wetness on her cheeks again. “Please tell Kiernan I can’t marry Bellamy . . . at least not today.”
“That’s not why I came out here.” Alannah tucked a handkerchief into Zaira’s hand. “Kiernan knows I won’t be pressuring you to do something you’re not ready for, so I won’t.”
At the kind words, more tears began to flow. Zaira dabbed the handkerchief against her eyes. “Thank you, Alannah. You’re a true and good friend. The very best.”
“You’re a true and good friend too.”
Zaira swallowed another wave of emotion that threatened to bring more tears and maybe even sobs. “I refuse to marry a man who doesn’t love me in return. I’d rather live with my ruined reputation than subject Bellamy to a life he doesn’t want.”
“How do you know he’s not just scared? That maybe he really does want it?”
“He told me last night we weren’t meant to be together, that even if we have some attraction, it’s not enough.”
“I don’t believe him.”
“He also said I’d make another fellow a fine wife, but that he’s looking for someone different than me for himself.”
Alannah released a sigh. “Why is Bellamy so good at seeing the dynamics in everyone else’s relationships but unable to see what’s going on in his own?”
“That’s just it. We don’t have a relationship. It’s all just pretend.” Well, maybe not all pretend. Their attraction was very real and had only grown the longer they were together.
“Zaira,” Alannah said gently, “I can see you have feelings for him.”
Was it that obvious? If Alannah had noticed, what if Bellamy had been able to all along? And what if that had driven him away?
Zaira leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. What matters is that he has been insistent from the start of our fake relationship that he doesn’t want to marry me.”
“It’s obvious he has feelings for you too.”
In the bedroom, Kiernan had said she and Bellamy were both already in love with each other and would soon realize it. As much as she wished her brother was right, he wasn’t. Bellamy had shut down any hope of a future together.
“The fact is, feelings or not, Bellamy isn’t ready to get married.”
She appreciated that he wanted to protect her reputation and was a man of honor.
But after all he’d revealed about his mam, it was clear he still had too many issues to work through before he would be ready to consider marriage to her or anyone else.
Maybe he already knew that, and maybe that was one of the reasons why he’d wanted to postpone Oscar’s matchmaking.
Whatever the case, she needed to get away from everyone. Even though she wanted to be the one to take care of Bellamy while he was injured and recovering, she was afraid that if she stayed, Kiernan and Da and even Bellamy would eventually pressure her into the wedding.
The other sad truth was that she didn’t want to be around Da, not after he’d called her writing nonsense and childish. Oh aye, she’d disappointed him, probably more than any of her other siblings.
But he’d disappointed her, too, with his unwillingness to consider that writing was important to her. Instead of listening and giving some credence to her pursuit, he’d dismissed it, and that hurt maybe even more than his stern insistence that she marry Bellamy whether she wanted to or not.
Oh aye, she needed to escape the weight of the damage she’d brought to her family and seclude herself at Oakland. She wouldn’t be able to hide from her mam there. But at least she’d be out of the city and away from Bellamy and all the reminders of her mistakes.
“I need to go back to Oakland,” she whispered.
“Are you sure?” Alannah whispered in return.
She nodded. “Will you stay and take care of Bellamy in my stead? I just can’t do it. I’m afraid I’ll give in too easily and marry him, and then we’ll both be miserable.”
Alannah squeezed her hand. “I’ll see to him, so I will.”
More tears welled in Zaira’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Alannah was silent for a few long seconds before speaking again quietly. “You should know, you’re one of the bravest women I know. God gave you a gift with your writing. It took valor to push forward and get published.”
“I lied to make it happen.”
“I’ll not be saying that dishonesty was the right choice. But it’s also not right that in the climb to the same peak, women have to take a path that is more winding and twice as long as a man’s straight hike.”
Zaira liked Alannah’s analogy. If anyone could understand the difficulties for women in getting work, Alannah could because she’d had a hard time obtaining employment as an editor even though she excelled at it.
“But you climbed the impossible trail to publication,” Alannah continued, “and I believe you’ll find a way to keep doing it, this time without having to hide it.”
Would she, though? Zaira hadn’t given thought to what she would do next with her novel and the weekly newspaper column.
She supposed in a way she’d given up and tossed her dreams into the rubbish bin when Da had thrown her manuscript there.
Maybe she’d thought of allowing her da to have his way, that he’d forgive her and she’d regain his approval.
But the same question as before echoed in her mind: Why should she worry about making him happy when he didn’t consider her well-being and what she wanted—needed—in her life?
A flame of indignation flared back to life inside her, the same indignation that had flared there when she’d walked away from the men in her bedroom a short while ago.
Alannah was right. God had given her a gift with her writing.
She loved it, she was good at it, and she couldn’t just cast it aside because her da thought it was nonsense and childish.
No, she needed to keep pushing forward with publication for herself and for all the other women who wanted to use their God-given gifts too. Maybe if she persevered, she’d eventually make the way easier for women authors who would come after her.
She stood, resolution stiffening her backbone.
She knew what she needed to do on her way out of the city.
She needed to stop by the rubbish bin behind the bank, pull out the chapter Da had thrown away, and then drop it off at the Daily Republican.
She’d explain herself to Mr. Knapp and this time be completely honest with him.
She could only hope he’d give her a second chance.