Chapter 15
It was love. Or what she thought love was. She’d never had this feeling before. And she liked it. Perhaps, too much.
She’d spent the entire morning with him, out in the field, roaming from place to place.
She’d even seen a calf be born, which was the most extraordinary thing she’d ever seen, and made her think miracles did, indeed, happen.
Wyatt asked her opinion, entertained her with the antics he and his brothers had participated in when they were younger, still proving to her that she was worthy of being loved.
The tickle in her belly which disappeared last night came back with a vengeance.
And he’d done all of it on purpose, just so she wouldn’t have to see her grandmother or her aunt, especially after what they’d said to her. She knew it and accepted it for what it was. Wyatt was simply being kind, as he’d always been.
She’d been happy for a few hours, though she knew it wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last. The sharp tongues and biting words started the moment she’d come back to the house to help Delilah with luncheon and didn’t abate at all throughout the meal nor afterward, when they all gathered in the parlor.
“Play for us.” Wyatt moved away from the blazing fire and handed her a glass of sherry, perhaps in a bid to settle her nerves.
Or maybe, in an attempt to quell her anger, which kept building and building until she thought she would explode.
She could swallow the disparagement her family threw at her, but being nasty to Wyatt, Delilah, and Royce was a step too far.
“Yes, play for us.” Delilah encouraged her. “You play beautifully.”
Sheridan didn’t say anything, simply moved to the piano, placed her glass of sherry on the top of it and took her seat. She spread her fingers on the keys and took a deep breath.
The criticism started almost immediately. “Sit up straight, Sheridan.”
She did as she was told, obedient to the order from her elder, but there was something—a spark of defiance building within her. The anger she tried to keep at bay refused to stay put.
Again, she placed her fingers on the keys and pressed lightly, filling the room with a soft melody. She closed her eyes and let the music take her to the place of safety it always brought her to.
“I don’t recognize the song,” Odette sniffed.
How one little sniff could contain so much venom, Sheridan didn’t know, but it was there, as plain as day.
“Neither do I,” Estelle agreed.
“It’s an original composition.” Sheridan offered as she continued to stroke the keys. “I wrote it myself. Just listen.”
“You know, she could have been famous, could have played all over the world with her talent,” Estelle said, her voice rising over the sound of the music. “She was too lazy and undisciplined to pursue that dream.”
Sheridan missed a note, her body stiffening as she heard the comment, as she was clearly meant to.
She moved her hands off the keys and slowly closed the cover, hiding those same keys and rose to her feet.
She picked up the glass of brandy and swallowed it in one gulp, but didn’t put the glass down.
Instead, she twisted it in her hands, trying so hard to keep her temper under control.
It was difficult. So many years of criticism, of being told she wasn’t good enough or that she was lazy or just like her mother, finally became too much. Tears stung her eyes.
“Why did you stop?”
She looked at her aunt and frowned. “Why? Because of you, because of the constant criticism, not only right now, but my entire life.”
Estelle glared at her. “Are you crying?”
She swiped at her eyes, then lowered her hand, not the least bit ashamed. “Yes, I am crying.”
“Stop it! Right this instant. A DuBois woman does not cry.”
She stood there, returning Estelle’s glare before she smiled.
“This DuBois woman does. In fact, Aunt Estelle, I do a lot of things now I was never allowed to do.” She moved toward Wyatt and laid her hand on his arm, drawing strength from his strength, feeling the years’ worth of repression and pain slowly slip away.
“Why did you lie to me all these years? Telling me my mother died giving birth to me? Why did you keep me if you weren’t going to love me? ”
“You’re being ridiculous, Sheridan.”
“And too emotional,” Odette stated, obviously displeased.
She glanced at her grandmother, the woman who was supposed to love her, and felt nothing but contempt for her.
“Estelle and I saved you.”
Startled by the statement, she blurted out, “Saved me from what?”
“Being like your mother.” Odette continued, then snapped her mouth closed, her lips pressing together so hard, it surprised Sheridan that her face didn’t crack. She recognized the look. She was in for a blistering reprimand, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t care.
Wyatt laid his hand over hers on his arm and gave a slight nod.
He didn’t say anything, but there was an expression on his face that inspired her courage.
Six months ago, she wouldn’t have thought she had an ounce of audacity in her, especially to stand up to her aunt and her grandmother.
She had changed. And she liked the person she’d become.
And after last night, being with Wyatt, feeling the care he’d taken with her, showing her that she was, indeed, worthy of all the good things, especially love, she felt emboldened. Still afraid, but brave, too.
“I want answers, Aunt Estelle. From what I’ve learned, my mother was a wonderful woman.
Kind. Warm. Generous. The complete and total opposite of you.
” She gave her attention to her grandmother while Estelle started to sputter, for once showing a modicum of anger.
The only other times she’d seen Estelle’s anger was when Josie had dared to show up at the house when she was six, the graduation ceremony that was ruined because of these two women and when she’d told them she was leaving to collect her inheritance.
“What you both did to her—to me—is unconscionable.”
“You don’t know anything,” Odette stated, her tone almost shrill, again another departure from her carefully cultivated voice.
Red spots highlighted her cheekbones and had nothing to do with the rouge she routinely used.
“She brought it all on herself, laying with that boy, getting herself in the family way. She ruined her good name and brought shame to us.”
“No, I don’t think she did. I think you did that with the way you treated her. Treated me. Why did you keep me if you weren’t going to love me? I was a burden. Every time you looked at me, you saw her. You may have thought you hid that, but you didn’t. I felt it then. I feel it now.”
Estelle rose to her feet and Sheridan prepared herself for a smack across the face, but it didn’t happen. “I think you’ve become too excited, Sheridan. Too emotional. I won’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Yes, I am too emotional. I cry. I laugh. And I’ve discovered that I am a good person.
I have friends now, people who like me for me.
I’m finally standing up for myself, too, and you don’t like it.
” Surprised, she couldn’t stop herself from saying what she had to say.
Still, her heart thundered in her chest and her knees felt like they could give out any moment, they were shaking so badly.
“Do you know what the greatest feeling in the world is? It’s loving and being loved.
Doesn’t matter if you’re young or old, rich or poor.
I’m finally, after all these years of wanting that, of needing that, experiencing love for the first time.
” She glanced at Wyatt, feeling the muscles in his arm tense.
He didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.
“I imagine that’s what my mother felt when she fell in love with Robert.
For the first time in her life, she knew what it was like to be loved, something she never received from either of you. ”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Estelle said, though her voice wasn’t as sharp as it was before. Didn’t she like what she was hearing?
“No, you don’t, but I have to say it, and you should listen.” Her gaze roamed over Estelle and Odette. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. There’s nothing more I want to say to you. I think it’s time for both of you to go home. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”
“I beg your pardon! Did you really just say that to me?”
Sheridan smiled, pleased with her show of bravery as well as the incredulous look on her aunt’s face. “I did, Aunt Estelle. I said it and I meant it. The same goes for you, Grand-mère. I think you should go back to New Orleans. Now.”
“There’s a stagecoach to Santa Fe that will leave in two hours. You should be on it,” Wyatt suggested, the warmth of his smile imparting even more courage.
Sheridan faced her aunt and grandmother. “That should give you enough time to pack.”
“If that’s the way you want it.” Estelle rose from her seat and glanced at Delilah, then Royce. No help was coming from that corner. Indeed, Delilah’s smile was the widest Sheridan had ever seen. And Royce? He looked so proud of her as his smile mirrored that of his wife.
“It is.” Sheridan straightened, standing tall. “And I will not be going with you. In fact, I don’t want to see either of you again.”
Estelle glared at her for a moment longer.
“Come along, Mother,” she said before she flounced from the room.
Odette rose from her chair, leaning heavily on her cane, which she really didn’t need, just thought it made her look even more dignified and cultured than she was.
In the past, Sheridan would have offered to help her, but her assistance was not needed, nor was it accepted or appreciated.
As Doctor Fontaine always said, Odette would outlive them all.
She was, and always had been, as strong as an ox, too stubborn to be anything else.
She didn’t even look at Sheridan as she climbed the stairs behind her daughter.