Chapter 8 #3
Evander lowered his fist. “I never quite know what to expect when I visit my mother,” he murmured. His voice dropped, thick with emotion. “And I don’t want her to die.”
The weight of that confession hung in the air.
Olivia turned towards him, her expression softening with understanding. “I know,” she said. “But you should cherish the time you still have.”
His eyes remained fixed on the door. “She’s always been there,” he said. “The only constant in my life. She never judged me… not once. She just loved me for who I was, not who I was supposed to be.”
Without hesitation, Olivia reached for his sleeve and turned him to face her. “That kind of love doesn’t disappear,” she told him. “Even if she’s no longer here, she’ll still live on in you. You are her son, Evander.”
His gaze met hers, and for the first time in years, he didn’t try to hide the tears that welled in his eyes. They spilled over, carving silent paths down his cheeks. He didn’t look away.
Then Olivia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. She held him as though she could anchor him through the storm. And he clung to her in return, burying his face in the curve of her neck, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. In her arms, he felt steadied… protected. Loved.
In that moment, he knew that he would survive this. Because she would help him bear it.
A quiet creak interrupted them as the door to his mother’s chamber opened. A maid appeared and said, “Oh, my apologies, my lord… my lady. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Olivia gently stepped back, her arms falling to her sides. Evander immediately missed the warmth of her touch, but he gave no outward sign of it. Instead, he turned to the maid and composed himself.
“How is my mother?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse.
“She is sleeping—”
“No, I am not,” came a familiar voice from within the bedchamber, laced with amusement. “I am simply resting my eyes. Now stop lurking and come in.”
The maid stepped back and pulled the door open wide. “You heard her, my lord.”
Evander gave a small smile and gestured for Olivia to enter first. He followed close behind.
Inside, the chamber was bathed in the soft golden light of the late afternoon sun. His mother lay propped up on a nest of pillows, her skin pale but her eyes bright. As soon as she caught sight of Olivia, her entire face lit up.
“My dear! What a delightful surprise,” she declared.
Olivia approached the bed and leaned down to kiss the older woman’s cheeks. “How are you faring, my lady?”
“I am still drawing breath, which is more than many can say,” his mother replied with a weary smile, her voice dry but affectionate.
Olivia gave a soft chuckle and took a step back as Evander joined her beside the bed.
“We come bearing news,” he said.
His mother looked between them with sudden interest. “Oh? What sort of news?”
Evander reached for Olivia’s hand and intertwined their fingers. He lifted their joined hands slightly. “We are married.”
For a moment, there was silence—then joy spread across his mother’s face, bright and unrestrained. “What wonderful news! Oh, you must tell me everything—where, how, when—every detail!”
“There isn’t much to tell,” Evander replied with a sheepish smile. “We were married this morning at the chapel.”
“Who was in attendance?” his mother asked.
“It was rather a small affair but Olivia’s family came, as did Lord Alcott,” he replied.
Turning to Olivia, his mother remarked, “I do hope this means your family approved of the union.”
“That they do,” Olivia confirmed.
“And what of your father?” she asked, addressing him.
Evander shrugged. “He was predictably appalled.”
Her expression didn’t falter. “He’ll come around.”
“I’m not holding my breath,” he muttered.
“Well, then let me be happy for the both of us,” his mother declared. She turned to Olivia and reached for her hand. “I always thought you two would suit each other.”
Olivia’s lips curved into a playful smirk as she glanced at Evander. “He is tolerable, I suppose.”
His mother laughed—a genuine, delighted sound that filled the room with unexpected lightness. Evander had almost forgotten what that laugh sounded like. “Now I can die in peace,” she said with a contented sigh. “Knowing that you’ll take care of one another.”
“You are not going to die anytime soon,” Evander said quickly, his tone firm.
A soft knock came at the door before it creaked open once more. A man stepped in carrying a worn leather doctor’s bag.
Doctor Wentworth gave a courteous bow. “How is my most troublesome patient today?”
His mother pushed herself up higher on the pillows. “Still alive. Much to everyone’s surprise.”
The doctor looked amused. “That’s more than satisfactory.”
Evander reached out and placed a hand gently on his mother’s frail shoulder. “We’ll let you get on with your examination. We’ll come back a little later.”
His mother gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, my darling.”
As he led Olivia out of his mother’s bedchamber, he was pleased by his mother’s reaction to his marriage, confirming what he had already known. He had done the right thing by marrying Olivia.