Chapter 14 #3
Torin shook his head. “At some point, my father proclaimed what would happen with the baby, and it was as if everyone had changed. This family that I thought I was so close with—I loved them, and they loved me—they were acting like Jewel was this abomination, and she was only this innocent little baby. And instead of seeing her as I saw her, they viewed her as something to be ashamed of and hidden away. They tried to tell me that we’d have other children, ones who’d be normal.
But I didn’t care about those other children.
I cared about this one.” He cradled his arms again, as if holding baby Jewel. “My father drew a firm line.”
“What was the line?” Even as Ivy asked the question, she suspected the answer.
This time, he looked at her. The bleakness in his eyes made her heart crack. “If I didn’t give up the child, I’d be cut from the business and disinherited. Mary Beth’s father chimed in and vowed she would be too.”
He gave her a brief turn up of his lips.
“I didn’t care. I’d inherited some money from my great- aunt, my great-uncle Ned’s wife—more than enough to live on.
At that point, I still thought Mary Beth would come around.
That once she recovered from the shock, she’d support my stance—that she’d be willing to give up a luxurious life for a comfortable one with her own child. ”
Ivy knew what was coming next. “She agreed with the rest of the family.”
“Her mother emerged from the bedroom and said that Mary Beth didn’t want to see the baby, and that if I kept her, she’d divorce me. They all stared at me, obviously expecting me to choose wife and wealth over my daughter.”
If the tale hadn’t been so painful, Ivy would have cheered. “You were so courageous to choose Jewel.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t feel courageous. Everyone thought I was crazy.
I moved out. Rented a place nearby. Paid the nurse to watch the baby and teach me how to take care of her.
I couldn’t believe Mary Beth would forsake our daughter.
I still believed she loved me and she’d change her mind. ” He shook his head.
“Never?”
“No one came around, not even my friends or extended family. Jewel and I became pariahs.”
Ivy inhaled a sharp breath. “How did you end up in Sweetwater Springs?”
“I finally had a visit…from Great-uncle Ned. He’d always had a soft spot for me.
He’d had a wayward son, Samuel, who died in the way reprobates often do.
Apparently, I looked like Sam, his last living child, so Ned and Ruth, when she was alive, always took an interest in me, seeming to receive satisfaction in my lack of wayward tendencies. ”
“Until Jewel’s birth, when you more than made up for your previous lack of wayward tendencies.”
This time, Torin’s smile looked more real.
“Ned joined the family in disapproving of my choice to keep Jewel. But mostly because he thought I was setting myself up for great heartache when she died. He wanted to help. He advised me to leave the city, saying that my parents wouldn’t change their minds, at least not for a long while.
He thought that living close by and being shunned would only cause me pain.
He gave me the money to move and buy a place. Made me his heir when he died.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“The best.”
“But to answer your question, I went to school in Cambridge with Joshua Norton.”
“The minister?”
He nodded, his gaze distant over the water.
“My family was friends with the Maynards. Joshua’s first wife was Esther Maynard.
I remembered the stories he told of Sweetwater Springs.
A remote place, no people to judge us. The location sounded perfect.
I wrote to his father, the elder Reverend Norton, under an assumed name, asking if he could put me in touch with anyone wanting to sell a isolated property that included a house and was located within an hour or so’s ride from town. ”
“Were Brian and Hank here then?”
“Barely. Both had built their homes but were still living rather rough. I had no intention of seeking them out.” He smiled. “But they sought me out.”
“Even Brian?” She’d heard enough stories about the man’s curmudgeonly, reclusive nature before he ran afoul of Cora.
“I believe Hank strong-armed him.”
The image made Ivy burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. They fell in love with Jewel and became your best friends.”
“They fell in love with Jewel and became my brothers.” He managed a smile. “Good thing, too. They’ve always kept our secret. Gone to town for supplies. I couldn’t have done this kind of life without them.”
“Family.”
“I built a life.” He let out a slow breath. “Such as it is.”
“Such as it is,” Ivy echoed softly. She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze on the sleeping child. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry.
He appreciated that—he couldn't have borne her tears just then. They would have cracked the dam he'd spent twelve years constructing, and he wasn't sure he'd survive the flood.
Instead, she said, “You chose love. That was brave.”
“It didn’t feel brave.” He shook his head. “Claiming Jewel and raising her felt like the only thing I could do. The only thing that wouldn't make me a monster.”
“That’s what bravery often feels like, I think. Not always a grand, heroic choice, but the small, obvious one—the one that seems so clear you can't imagine choosing differently. But most people do choose differently, Torin. Most people take the easier path.”
He looked at his sleeping daughter, her face soft and untroubled in the afternoon light, one hand curled around her felt letter, the other resting on the cat who purred against her side.
“I’d do it again. A thousand times.” His voice dropped.
“But the fear...the fear of anyone else looking at Jewel the way Mary Beth did—with that disgust, as if our daughter were something to be scraped off the bottom of a shoe—the feeling never goes away. Every time I consider bringing her into the world, I see that expression. And I can’t.
...” He pressed a hand over his mouth, breathing through his fingers.
Ivy was quiet for a long moment. Then she reached over and laid a hand on his forearm—briefly—before withdrawing it.
The contact lasted no more than two seconds, but the warmth lingered on his skin like a brand.
“No one who knows her could look at her that way,” Ivy said simply.
“She’s the most lovable child I've ever met.
And the people who rejected her—your family, Mary Beth, her family—they didn't reject Jewel. They rejected the idea of her. The inconvenience. The shame. They never took the time to know who she was.”
Torin couldn’t speak. If he tried, whatever remained of his composure would crumble, and he’d embarrass them both. So he just nodded and stared at the lake until the tightness in his throat eased enough for breathing.
“For what it's worth,” Ivy added quietly, “I think your great-uncle would be proud of how you spent his legacy.”
He almost laughed. Almost. “Ned was the family eccentric. Traveled the world, married later in life, scandalized everyone at Christmas dinner with stories about Morocco.” He smiled faintly. “I like to think in spite of his initial disapproval, he would have adored Jewel.”
“Then something good came from your family after all.” Sudden tears filled her eyes. “Your story was so sad, yet so beautiful.” She blinked them away. “Your daughter is rather magical,” she said in a light tone in an attempt to belie her emotions.
They sat together in the companionable silence, watching over the sleeping child, while the swans drifted back around the bend with their cygnets trailing in an irregular line.
“Does Reverend Joshua know you’re here?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t even know Joshua had moved back from Africa—a widower and a father—until Hank told me last summer.”
With sudden urgency, Ivy clutched his arm and gave it a little shake. “Torin, it’s like a sign from God that your friend is a minister here—a good one, according to Cora. You should reach out to him! I’m sure he’d accept Jewel.”
Torin’s face closed up, and he withdrew his arm. “Jewel and I are just fine. And that’s my last word on it.”