89. Viola
Viola
“Be done with their talking soon,” Greta said from her perch on the window seat. “Best get you dressed, Miss Viola.”
I searched but could not find a solid plan for the future. I loved him, but… the risk. My grief was fresh. I was a hollowed-out thing. Not brave. Not today. I wasn’t ready.
“Please, Miss Viola… your father will have no objections.”
Footsteps on the stairs and a tap on the door.
Greta let out a weary breath and cracked the door open.
I heard the muffled voice of the butler.
Hands on her hips, she turned to me. “We will dress you now. Your presence has been requested in the parlor.” I let her dress me, tame my hair, and pinch my cheeks.
She led me to the parlor and closed the door behind me.
Jacob stood lean and sturdy at the far end, hand on the mantel, watching the fire.
Alive. The flutters of a hundred gull-wings beat against my ribs.
The drapes were drawn against the chill, cocooning the room in twilight and muting the outside world.
He turned with a smile bright with hope and life, even after all he had been through.
How was he so strong? He strode to me, took my hand, and guided me to the chair in front of the fire.
I sat, stiff as the rock in my pocket, staring into the fire.
I remembered our fight on the Inn’s steps…
the disaster of concealing anything from him.
Finally, a plan took shape. I understood what I needed to do.
Total honesty. Transparency. Let him see all the parts of me, even those I didn’t like.
He knelt before me. My hand flew to my throat. It was happening too fast.
“Wait,” I said.
I mustered the courage to meet the eyes that had haunted my dreams. My hand found his warm cheek. “I love you, Jacob Jensen.” The words shimmered between us. I let out a small squeak of a laugh. “I never thought I would say that to anyone. Never planned to fall in love.”
His lips curved upward, and he said, “I love you, too. And I?—”
“Wait,” I said again. How to explain? The gulls flapped against a gale. “It’s such a risk.”
He was no longer smiling. Blast. I looked at my lap, and forced the words out. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough. I wouldn’t ask you to give it up, but I would be terrified whenever you’re gone. I’d remember the telegrams and…”
He squeezed my hand. “But if I had to choose,” he said, breath hitching, “I’d choose?—”
“No.” My voice cracked. “Don’t say that.” I swallowed hard. “You’d despise me. Eventually. For taking away your dreams. I’d despise myself.”
“I’d never?—”
A lock of hair fell forward, shielding my face. “I’m too raw to think clearly. I’d become a clingy mess, make you feel guilty about leaving?—”
“Viola!”
“Jacob, it almost killed me when I thought you were dead, and I will relive that agony every time you get on a train.”
He cradled my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “We will find a way,” he said. “We will face it and figure it out together.” I trembled at the truth of it—that he was alive, that he loved me, that I might lose him again.
He drew me into his arms, swept me around, and soon I was curled across his lap. The steady thrum of his heartbeat under my ear shattered what remained of my composure. I pressed against his chest as the horror of losing him surged through me, sharp and merciless.
He whispered soft words, tracing slow circles with his thumb along my shoulder, steadying me with his strong arms until my breath evened out.
And little by little, the storm inside me quieted, the gulls folded their wings.
We clung together in silence for long minutes.
The fire’s heat warmed my legs and his embrace warmed the rest of me.
I relaxed into him and mirrored his breathing as his fingers circled my back.
He was here. Alive. He knew my fears. Now he knew.
The deep purr of his voice vibrated through his chest directly into my ear. “I love you, and you love me. That is enough for now.” His soft, rumbling laugh sent tingles down my spine.
I’d braced for his disappointment or judgment. Had worried we would fight or speak out of frustration. I leaned back to gaze up at his face, and the delighted wonder I found there disarmed me.
He brushed loose hair back from my face, then rested his forehead against mine.
“One step at a time, my dear,” he said. “It’s amazing, actually.
You love me.” His lips found mine with a soft warmth that melted all tension from me.
He cradled my face like I was precious, his thumb brushing along my cheek.
And the slow, gentle pressure of his mouth on mine felt like coming home.
He pulled back once more. “You love me,” he murmured with crinkles in the corners of his eyes.
“You love me, too,” I said and tilted my lips up to his.
And I didn’t fight the joy blooming inside me. We’d figure it out together.