36. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Seeing her was an arrow through the heart. It was a special kind of anguish being on the precipice of forever to have it yanked away without warning. Without cause. Though Theo supposed from Effie’s perspective there was plenty of cause, she just wasn’t sharing what it was.
Effie smiled through a few greetings as she meandered through the gathered guests.
His jaw ticked with every gaze that trailed behind her with a longing he knew intimately.
It took more strength than he knew he possessed to keep from whisking her onto the dance floor for all to see, to claim her lips, and to show her off.
But when she finally found him in the room, her face dropped and Theo swore his heart stopped right along with it.
She wasn’t happy to see him.
He was going to kill Schilling. Theo hoped the daggers he threw at him conveyed as much. Schilling’s cowed shrug said he understood, but not that he was sorry .
Theo supposed that was only fair. It would all be over soon and he could leave Effie in peace.
Effie arrived at their little group avoiding Theo and pinning her eyes on Hope.
“Show-off. I should have had you and Grams do mine, though I guess it would have been wasted this year.” Hope smoothed her skirt over her rounded stomach, and Theo unwittingly imagined what Effie might look like carrying their baby.
Fuck . That was not a train of thought he should entertain.
He speared his awareness back on the present, looking at Effie’s dress anew. “You made that?” She was truly an impressive creature. He fancied himself a creative person, but he was a hobbyist. Effie made creativity a lifestyle.
“With some help. Grams is determined to make a seamstress of me yet.” She spoke directly to him but there was a tightness to it, a chain attached.
Her gaze lingered on Theo for a breath, too short to read what lay beneath her oceanic eyes. Hope, thankfully, intervened before he could put his foot in his mouth. “Let’s go get a snack, I’m famished. Get your dancing shoes ready, gentlemen.”
She led Effie toward a waiter in the corner with a tray of flakey samosas, bacon-wrapped scallops, and something that looked like seared tofu skewers.
Theo’s shoulders dropped their tension with his exhale. “I’m sorry,” Schilling whispered.
“It’s not your fault, but don’t expect me to linger,” Theo said tightly.
The pity on Schilling’s face was a twist of the knife. “You’re not even going to try to get her back?”
“I’m not going to push her. I just want her to know I’m here, whenever she’s ready to be here with me.” Theo scratched a phantom itch at the back of his neck. He couldn’t very well respect her wishes and lay the truth of his feelings at her feet.
“But?”
“But that’s assuming I’m right. That she got spooked but still wants me. If she doesn’t . . .” Schilling’s hand gripped Theo’s shoulder in a show of support.
Not until she’d accused him of trying their relationship on for size and declaring that he couldn’t know how deep their connection ran already, did he realize how tenuous their bond was.
He thought they were falling together. Apparently, he had leapt while she remained firmly on the ledge, and he’d come splattering across rock-bottom with no way of knowing if she ever intended to jump at all.
His self-pitying reverie was cut short as the ladies returned, Hope offering a samosa to Schilling.
The band played the final notes of the current song, one Theo knew he recognized but couldn’t parse out in its instrumental version.
He expected Effie to delight in the tide of the beautiful melody—no threat of unpleasant word tastes to ruin the evening.
But she was stoic. Refusing, it seemed, to let herself enjoy the evening.
The quiet before the next song filled with Hope’s request for a dance.
“As the lady desires,” Schilling replied while sketching a bow. Hope led him to the dance floor with a flick of her brows at Effie who stood beside Theo twiddling her fingers around the dance card on her wrist.
“Do you have room on your dance card?” Theo asked, wanting to get lost in the fantasy along with everyone else.
“They’re more for show, but I guess so. One dance.”
Theo nodded. He’d take it .
He offered his arm, a less intimate point of contact, to lead her to the floor in time for the next song to kick up.
Theo clocked the dancers at the front of the room and recognized the dance almost immediately.
Perks of being in the chorus for the high school’s rendition of Anastasia his freshman year.
He’d keep Effie in his arms through most of it, but there was a moment when partners would change hands at the end.
He positioned them to Schilling and Hope’s left, catching the former’s eye and giving him a subtle nod.
Theo let his body guide him in remembering the steps, only checking in with the pros at the front now and again. Theo lifted their hands in delicate arches. He pushed Effie away to welcome her back with a twirl, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on hers.
The music became a hum to keep time to and nothing more.
The chatter was consumed by the swish of Effie’s skirts, the soft hush of her breath.
This should be a night to remember, romantic as hell with him whispering to her all the ways she moved him.
His fingers curled into her waist against his will but if she felt the longing in the gesture, she didn’t let on.
Theo forced himself to focus on the steps, and not on his desire to kiss her.
“I’m usually terrible at this,” Effie mused.
Theo executed another wistful twirl and welcomed her back to his embrace. “You didn’t have the right partner,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s easy because I know the steps, and you’re trusting me to lead.”
Effie didn’t reply but glanced over to Hope and Schilling.
They were good, but it wasn’t as effortless.
When she faced Theo again she looked ready to speak, but she held her tongue.
Theo filled the silence instead. “I was reading up on your lady slippers. Did you know that they can take up to sixteen years to develop their first flower? ”
“That’s a long time.”
“So how much has to go right for us to see them in the woods. The right soil pH, the presence of a symbiotic fungus to help them germinate and grow, no disturbances to their root systems, and the right amount of sunshine. If any of those things were rushed or missing, we would never get to see one. And to think that the fleeting blooms we do find could have been working to that exact moment for so long, with no one noticing is kind of heartbreaking.”
Effie’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because too few people are awed by the patience and process of the things they admire coming into existence. I don’t want to be one of them. Some things are worth the wait.”
Effie’s grip warmed his shoulder, and he could tell her anxiety bubbled up causing clammy hands. She tried to ask it with a bit of playfulness, but it came out blunt instead. “So you want to be my fungus?” He bit back his smile at her scrunched nose. Fungus probably didn’t taste great.
Theo checked on Schilling beside him, he didn’t have much time, and he wouldn’t dare say what he burned to, what she’d prevented him from telling her that morning, so instead he said. “No, Effie, I want to be your forest.”
Before she could answer Theo passed her to the gentleman on their left, receiving Hope mid-spin. Theo seamlessly led her in a slow circle, their palms touching right above their foreheads, so they lost sight of Schilling for a beat as the music ended.
For a brief moment the room went dark, the overhead chandelier and lighting all switched off. He held Hope steady and spun her toward the center of the dance floor as the lights came back up .
Schilling stood on one knee with an engagement ring in a velvet box in one hand, and a bouquet of cosmos in the other. “Hope Thatcher, will you marry me?”
Hope brought her hands to her face, smothering the squeal or sob that wanted to break through. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” She hurried forward and Schilling slipped the ring on her finger. He stood and kissed her, cheers and applause breaking out through the ballroom that was really Effie’s living room.
Theo turned his attention to Dorothea and Beatrice who stood by the light switches clutching each other on the far end of the room.
Dorothea winked at him and he nodded his thanks.
Louisa and Ellen donned authentic smiles, while Tibby’s tears were pure joy.
Even Pamela looked excited as she squeezed her sister’s hand.
These were the women he knew Effie loved, the ones who knew how good it really could be.
Then he saw Effie, stunned. Not unhappy or even rattled, just surprised like she pieced together why Theo was here in the first place.
He hoped that it didn’t upset her. He hoped she knew that proposal or not he would have wanted to spend this evening with her, but only if she had wanted the same.
Theo prayed to whatever gods were listening that at the very least, Effie could believe that Theo was hers entirely.
He gave her a sad sort of smile, one that would have carried so much more if she was ready for the depth of his feelings for her, then turned and walked out the door.
Louisa hadn’t oversold the patio. Lights like stars twinkled over the expanse of the bluestone that stretched from the French doors to the hedgerow that delineated their property from the neighbors’.
The arbor of wisteria welcomed guests to the maze of planters that created alcoves of privacy under the summer sky.
Benches and wicker chairs populated each nook so cocktails could be sipped and private moments could be shared.
Hope and Brayden sat together at one such bench, Hope’s hand extended before her, her new engagement ring glimmering in the faux starlight.
It was so beautiful, Hope thought she might cry.
It had a platinum band with intricate filigree that gave the impression that elves had crafted it in another world.
The prongs formed a pointed star shape inset with small diamonds to cradle the large oval sapphire in the center.
It was the fantasy ring of her dreams and she couldn’t believe it decorated her finger.
“It looks like that one I loved at the Christmas market we went to.”
Hope beamed at Brayden who looked on cloud nine, eyebrows raised. “It is the one from the Christmas market. I went back the next day and bought it.”
Hope gaped at him. They’d only been dating a few months at that point. He had still technically been married. She was almost, if not already, pregnant with Bug. It was almost too much to fathom. “And you’ve held on to it since?”
“I know we’ve had our issues, Hope, but how much I love you was never in question.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him with no small amount of joy at realizing that not only would she get to do it forever, but she would do it as his wife with him as her husband. Hope liked the way that sounded.
“And if Effie asks,” Brayden ventured, “that’s why Theo was here.
He got his ticket with me when Louisa first posted them for sale.
I had always planned on asking you tonight .
. . before everything went sideways with us .
. . and wanted my best man by my side. He wasn’t trying to impose when she didn’t want him around. He was helping me.”
Hope thought on that for a moment. She couldn’t be certain Effie didn’t want Theo around, but she kept that to herself. “It was a simply fun way to find you down on one knee. I’m glad he came.”
“Me too,” Brayden said. “It’s weird though. Nothing about how I feel about you has changed in the last ten minutes, but I feel changed. Like this is all just beginning. It all feels new.”
“I know what you mean,” Hope said smiling. She rested her head on Brayden’s shoulder, hand on her belly, as she enjoyed the majesty of Louisa’s garden ball.
Hope saw the lavender bell of her dress before she saw Louisa wander through the arbor to a patch of grass beneath the lights.
She looked heavenward, unaware of Hope’s attention.
The deep breath that lifted her chest felt like it released a monster from her back.
The wind rustled and the music carried farther through the backyard garden as a new set of footsteps shuffled across the bluestone.
Hope squeezed Brayden’s hand and watched with bated breath as a gentleman caller handed Louisa a glass of champagne. Louisa’s returning smile was coquettish and warm—nothing like the cynical, overprotective sister Hope experienced the other night.
“You’re right,” she whispered to Brayden. “Everything is new.” Hope smiled, a magic settling over the Thatcher house in the wake of Brayden’s proposal. A magic that felt an awful lot like breaking a curse.