Chapter 30
POV: Callum
“Girls, where do you think you’re going?”
My twin daughters froze and turned, guilt written all over their five-year-old faces. They were far too young to master the art of hiding things from me.
“We’re going to help Mama…” Katy said.
“Yes,” Sally nodded.
“What happened the last time? Did you actually help Mama?”
Their faces dropped, and they both shook their heads.
I’d gutted the Quinn house and turned it into a place where Sorsha taught adults to read and write. The last time Katy and Sally had been there, they’d emptied all the sand from the sandboxes onto the floor and played in it while Sorsha was sweeping the porch.
“Go and play in the backyard,” I suggested.
The yard was three times the size it used to be, with swings, plenty of chicks, hens, and a cockerel. Mabel had passed last year, breaking Sorsha’s heart.
Instead of buying a new horse, I brought home a puppy. She refused to speak to me for a week, but she couldn’t resist the little fellow. More than once I caught her cuddling him when she thought I wasn’t looking.
The pup adored her and never barked at her, easing her fear of dogs.
I stepped back to check on the backyard, only to find it quiet. Much too quiet.
I loved my daughters and was thankful the berserker gene would end with me. Sorsha was sad she couldn’t give me a boy, but I had no such reservations. She had almost died giving birth to the twins, and I never wanted a repeat of that long night.
Putting down the hammer, I went looking for the them.
I found them in the bedroom. Katy was swallowed up in Sorsha’s wedding dress, the fabric dragging on the floor around her little feet, the veil crooked over her head. Sally was fussing with the skirt, trying to make it stay up, both of them giggling like thieves.
Laughter threatened to break free from me, but I held it back, leaning against the doorframe. For a moment, all I could see was another day—the church full of curious eyes, the scrape of benches as people stood, and then Sorsha stepping through the doors in that very dress.
It had been made for her, every stitch meant to honor her and show how much I loved her.
She’d been pale and nervous, but when her eyes met mine, the whole world fell away until there was only her. Placing the ring on her finger and hearing her vows meant everything to me, because this time it was her choice.
I’d even requested a new marriage certificate so that Sorsha could sign her own name. She had, her hand steady, the letters elegant despite how new the skill still was.
“What are you two up to?” I asked, and both jerked in fright, staring at me with big eyes the same color as mine.
It was almost impossible to tell them apart; there was no convenient birthmark or beauty spot. As babies, we’d tied different colored ribbons on their wrists to know who was who.
Their characters were different now, and I was certain that as they got older, they’d learn to fool us with ease.
“We’re just trying it on…” Katy said, her mouth pursed.
“And are you allowed to do that?”
Sally shook her head.
“But I’m getting married,” she insisted, her slim shoulder slipping through the neckline.
“To whom?” I asked.
Both girls looked at me as though I’d asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
“To you, Daddy. Just like Mommy.”
I couldn’t help it then—I burst out laughing.
“Why are you laughing?” Katy asked.
“Because I love you so much. But this dress is not for you to play with.”
I scooped them up, one on each hip, and carried them to the kitchen. “Do you feel like helping me?”
“Okay,” they said in unison. They often did this, some kind of twin trick. Sometimes they communicated without a single word.
“Good show.”
I sat them at the kitchen table and set a bowl of peas in front of them, showing them how to shell. For about five minutes, they tried, little fingers fumbling, before Katy pulled a face and nudged her sister.
“Stay,” I warned, catching the look. “If you quit, no ice cream later.”
They glanced at each other in silent communication, then turned pleading eyes up at me.
When they were first born, I’d worried I might lose patience with them one day—that the berserker might rise—but it never had. Still, I drank my tea religiously. These days, I keep it on a shelf so high that even Sorsha can't reach it.
Movement through the window caught my eye. Sorsha was walking toward the front door, her hair catching the last rays of sunlight.
She carried herself differently these days. With April, her best friend, by her side, she had built a circle of friends she could trust, and she no longer felt beneath everyone in Bridgeford.
The door opened, and the twins shouted, “Mama!” Slipped off their chairs, they rushed toward her.
She dropped to her knees and hugged them tightly. “Were you good while I was gone?”
I caught a sly look from Katy while Sally glanced away. “Yes, Mama. We’re even helping Daddy.”
“Such good girls,” Sorsha said before standing to hug and kiss me.
“Good lesson?” I asked.
“Wait till you hear,” she whispered. “Let me get the girls into the tub first, then I’ll tell you.”
Herding the two of them toward the bath, she ran the water while I set about starting supper. I hardly cooked these days, which made it all the more enjoyable when Sorsha was busy with her weekly lesson.
She came bouncing in, leaping into my arms so fast I barely had time to set the knife down. “I could have stabbed you,” I scolded, before capturing her mouth in a kiss.
“Not likely,” she grinned. “Now, you won’t believe this—Edith and Ryan are back.”
“Really?”
“I heard Garth paid someone to find them. His health is failing, and now he wants Edith to inherit.”
“Who told you?”
“Eliza—you know, the lady who cleans the magistrate’s building.”
I nodded.
“And how do you feel about them being back?”
“I think it’s time to let bygones be bygones,” she said softly. “But I need a heart-to-heart with Ryan. He has to understand that how he treated me before was unacceptable. I only hope he hasn’t treated Edith the same way. And… they have a child. A boy. Older than our girls.”
A knock at the door had me looking out the window to see who it was.
Strange – a young boy was walking away.
Letting go of Sorsha, I opened the front door, but the youngster didn’t look back.
A small box lay on the mat.
“Who is it?”
“No one, but there’s a parcel addressed to you.”
I handed it to her, and she unwrapped it on the kitchen table.
Inside was a beautiful jewelry box, and when opened, a tiny dancer spun to a tune, a folded letter stark against the velvet-red lining.
Sorsha tore it open. A half page of writing.
Dear Sorsha,
I don’t know how to apologize. The only excuse I have is that I was as afraid of our father as you were, and the only way I knew to survive was to become like him. I knew it wasn’t right. I had already planned to leave before he died, because Edith was pregnant.
She harbored bitterness then and urged me to let you handle his funeral. In truth, I hardly cared what became of him. Sully’s money gave me the chance to approach the one girl I had loved since school days, and it kept us afloat.
But I have changed, and so has Edith. Our son, Carter, has made me see many things differently.
I will understand if you want nothing to do with us. But this letter is meant as a bridge—and a heartfelt apology from both of us.
I leave the rest up to you; you know where to find me.
Ryan and Edith
Standing behind, I wrapped my arms around her, stunned at this development. But this was something she had to decide herself.
“Let me get the girls out of the tub,” she said and extricated herself as though nothing had happened.
The rest of the evening, she kept busy, and it was only when we got into bed that she turned to me.
“What do I do?”
“You make love to me and give yourself time to decide,” I said, pulling her close.
The End