Page 44 of When She Was a Governess
“No, she’s reminding me of all the happy days I spent on this beach. This was my favorite place when I was young. She’s made me remember.”
“Children give us that gift. Watching them, we see the world through their innocent eyes.”
Henry looked at the outcrop again, at rocks that had featured in so many nightmares. They were just rocks. Covered in barnacles and seaweed, surrounded by tide pools. The place where he’d found Eleanor’s body, yes. But also just part of the shoreline. Part of the natural world that had existed long before that terrible day and would exist long after.
“I’ve been so angry,” he said, his gaze still on the rocks. “At my mother, yes. But also at Eleanor for leaving me. At myself for not preventing it. At God for allowing it. At this sea.” He drew ina deep breath of salt air. “But anger doesn’t change anything. It only poisons the one holding it.”
“I have found this to be true,” Sophia said.
“Mama and Papa, come here.” Amelia was jumping up and down near the water’s edge, waving frantically.
They walked over together, their hands brushing with each step until finally Henry just took hers properly, lacing their fingers together. Her hand in his was like a breath of fresh air scented with honeysuckle, sweet and comforting.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Henry asked.
“The biggest shell.” Amelia held up a scallop shell, its ridges perfect, its color a delicate pink-white. “For you, Mama. Because it’s pretty like you.”
Sophia crouched down, accepting the shell with appropriate reverence. “Thank you, love.”
“And this one is for you, Papa.” A darker shell, brown and cream.
“And why is this one for me?” Henry asked.
“Because it’s strong,” Amelia said. “Just like you.”
Henry took it, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Amelia. I’ll treasure it.”
She beamed at them both, then returned to her explorations.
For the next hour, Henry let himself simply enjoy the morning—the warmth of the sun on his face, Amelia’s delighted laughter, Sophia’s calming presence beside him. He helped Amelia build a small fort from driftwood. He examined tide pools with her, pointing out tiny fish and sea anemones, collected smooth pebbles that she exclaimed over and then hauled her onto his shoulders.
She squealed with delight, her small hands gripping his hair. “I’m so tall. Look how tall I am.”
Sophia turned from where she’d been examining a tidal pool. “Yes, you are very tall.” The sun behind her turned her hair togold. The wind caught at her dress, molding it to her slim figure. She was smiling, but there was a vulnerability in her expression, open and unguarded.
Her question echoed through his mind.
Perhaps you could love me just a little?
“Papa, walk please. I want to see everything from up high.”
Henry began walking along the shore, Amelia giggling on his shoulders, Sophia falling into step beside them.
Soon, Amelia began to squirm. “Down. I want down.”
He lifted her off his shoulders and set her gently on the pebbles. She immediately ran to another tidal pool.
Sophia turned to him, and he was struck again by how lovely she was, backlit by the sun, her hair wild from the wind, her dress damp at the hem. He wanted her. In his arms. In his bed.
“What is it?” Sophia asked, clearly reading something in his expression.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. Her skin was so soft under his fingertips. “You take my breath away.”
“I do?” Sophia placed her hand over his, pressing it gently against her cheek. “And is this a good thing?”
“It is a miracle. You are my miracle.”
They stood like that for a moment, the wind carrying the scent of salt and the cries of gulls overhead. Was this what it felt like to awaken from the dead? To suddenly remember the heart that beat in his chest?
