Chapter Six #2
It is my sad duty to inform you that your father passed three days ago, after a sudden illness from which he did not recover. His end came quickly, and though I know there has been a great distance between us, I felt it best that you hear this from me without delay.
Whatever has passed between us, this is no time to stay away. Your father is gone, and the matters that divided this family must now be set aside. If you return home immediately, all will be forgiven.
I trust you will do what is proper.
Mother
Her father was dead. Lula felt the words settle over her without immediately making sense.
She had not seen him in years. She had been angry with him for so long that grief came tangled with old hurt and disbelief.
But it was the last line that made her fingers tighten on the page.
All will be forgiven. As if what had happened had been hers to atone for.
As if she were the one who had done wrong.
Katie came around the counter, her face full of concern. “Bad news?”
Lula folded the letter with careful precision before answering. “My father died.”
“Oh, Lula.” Katie touched her arm lightly. “I’m sorry.” Her gaze dipped to the folded paper. “Does she want you to go back?”
“She does.” Lula slipped the letter into her pocket.
“But I have no intention of leaving.” She said it firmly and was surprised to realize she meant it with her whole heart.
Her home was not in New York any longer.
It was here, in a small cabin with a man who watched her too closely and cared too much.
Katie gave a single nod, accepting that without question. “Then you stay. And if you want me to send a reply when the next post goes out, I’ll make sure it gets there.”
“Thank you,” Lula said softly. She made her way back out into the cold with the letter in her pocket, feeling heavier than the venison had.
By the time she reached the cabin, the daylight was already fading.
She took off her gloves, and pulled ingredients together for supper with hands that did not feel steady.
She told herself she would think about the letter later.
After supper. After dishes. After she had done all the ordinary things that kept a day from splitting in two.
She set the opened letter on the table while she chopped onions and potatoes for a stew, meaning only to leave it there for a moment. But her mind kept drifting back to the words in her mother’s hand. Your father has died. Come home. All will be forgiven.
When Sebastian came in, he stomped the snow from his boots and hung his coat by the door. “Something smells good,” he said automatically, then stopped when he saw her face. His gaze shifted to the table, to the letter lying open beside the lamp.
He walked closer and glanced down before she could move it. He was too polite to read the whole of it, but one line had clearly caught his eye. He looked at her, his blue eyes intent. “What needs to be forgiven?”
For one wild instant, Lula thought of Bill. Of his smile, his kindness, and the life they had tried to build together before other people’s hatred had torn it apart. Of the real reason her parents had cast her off. Of the truth she still didn’t think she could share with Sebastian.
Instead, she stirred the pot and kept her eyes on the bubbling stew. “My parents didn’t approve of my husband,” she said quietly. “You already know that.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said. He did not move away from the table. “I know that.”
The cabin grew quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the soft simmer of supper.
Lula could feel him watching her, could feel the question he did not ask pressing at the edges of the room.
When she finally turned, his expression was gentle—but unconvinced.
He knew she had answered him without truly answering.
And as he reached past the letter to set the table, she knew he sensed there was still something she was hiding. And he was right.
She was silent through supper, quietly eating her meal, but her mind was far away.
He covered her hand with his. “What has you so sad? Is it the letter from your mother?” he asked.
She nodded. “My father died. I—I hate that I haven’t seen him in over six years. That he died hating me for marrying Bill.”
“Why did your parents object to Bill so much?” he asked, tilting his head to one side. He wanted to understand.
“He was from a different background than I was, and they felt he was beneath us.” It was the truth as far as it went.
Sebastian sighed. “They wouldn’t approve of me either then.”
It was true. But their objections to her marrying Bill had been far stronger than they would have been for her marrying Sebastian. “No, I don’t think they would have.”
He shrugged. “Does your mother want you back in New York?”
“She does. But I’m not going. They turned their backs on me. I was disinherited and no longer allowed in their home. Why would I go back now?”
He frowned. “I understand. I think I do anyway. My parents always gave us unconditional love and support.”
“We were raised very differently. She has servants and many friends. She’ll be fine.” Lula stood and carried her half-finished stew to the basin, scraping what she hadn’t been able to eat into a pail for Sally’s pigs.
“I’m sorry about your father. No matter how strained your relationship was, he was your father. I cannot imagine losing my father.” Sebastian carried his empty bowl to her. “Supper was wonderful as always.”
She smiled at the compliment. “Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “When you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”