Page 111 of Dearest Beast
“While the offer I was made was kind,” Rebecca continued, her voice becoming thick, causing Roger’s eyes to sting. “I’m just not the sort who can accept.” She took an audible breath. “As I said, I have been your guest these past few weeks, but, like with all guests, it’s time my visit came to an end,” she said, staring at him, not the girl.“Visits aren’t real life. They’re merely diversions from it. You cannot live in diversions, no matter how lovely.”
“Can we come visit you?” Michael asked, turning back to Rebecca and leaning his head on Roger’s shoulder once more. He stuck his thumb into his mouth, sucking loudly, but Roger could not quite make himself correct the child. Perhaps later. After they all had a good nap.
“Anytime,” Rebecca said. “Provided you do not mix anything without permission.” She turned back to Fannie with a smile. “And I’d prefer if you knocked first.”
“All right,” the girl said, twisting a little at Roger’s side and clutching his hand tighter. Roger squeezed back.
Michael removed this thumb again and leaped from Roger’s arms. “I don’t want you to go.” He ran at the woman, throwing his little arms around her skirts once more. Before Roger could speak, his daughter had also broken away from him and rushed Rebecca, embracing her as well.
Rebecca’s eyes widened with surprise. For a moment the two of them stared at each other, and there was definitely a hint of panic in the blue-gray, which, at another time he’d have found amusing.
However, the woman rose to the occasion, or lowered, as she knelt once more, embracing each child back. “Thank you so much for sharing your home with me,” she whispered. “It was a great honor.” Her voice became a whisper, so Roger had to strain to hear. “You shall always have a place in mine, no matter what. All of you.”
Something within him felt like it was cracking. He’d offered her everything he had, everything he now was. He’d transformed. For the better. But that wasn’t enough.
But life wasn’t fair. He straightened as his children stepped back from the embrace to exit the room, Fannie giving him a partingglare, probably mentally deciding to give him an earful later. No worse than what he deserved for somehow making such a mess of things.
He cleared his throat. Rebecca whirled around, her eyes widening as they met his, her lips parting slightly. She was so achingly beautiful that his chest ached.
“Is that for me?” she asked, pointing to the rose.
“Yes,” he whispered, holding it out to her. Hesitating for a moment, she reached out and accepted it, careful not to let even her gloved hand touch his.
“It’s beautiful.” She held the bloom to her nose, inhaling as she closed her eyes for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered. She tilted her chin, gazing up at him again. “You really have a gift.”
“So, you’re off, then?” he said after a beat. “Do you need me to come with you and assist—”
“I shall be fine,” she said, voice a touch waspish. “Everyone you’ve hired appears exceptionally competent.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for—”
“I only repaired what was damaged, as was proper,” he reminded her. “It, however, has been an honor to have you in my home these few weeks. You’ve… helped me greatly.”
“I’m not sure about that,” she said.
“You did,” he insisted. “The children, they—” He pressed his fist to his lips for a moment, as if it could force down the emotions he was usually so good at stifling. “You were good for the children,” he told her, managing somehow to keep his voice level.
“I barely interacted with them,” she lied, not meeting his eye.
He was suddenly furious with her, with the situation, and once again himself.
“You did enough,” he told her, squeezing his fists to calm himselfdown. “They hold you in great esteem,” he added, his voice now hoarse. “As do I.”
“I…” She raised her chin a little.
“You helped me too,” he said. “You made me see things I didn’t want to see,” he admitted. “And helped me understand…”Who I could become.But he couldn’t quite say the words out loud. He had tried already, and it didn’t matter to her. And while it still mattered to him, he could just not form the words once more. Not that day.
“I learned a great deal from you as well,” she said, her voice soft.
“Like what?” he whispered, unable to stop himself from asking the question.
“That yellow and burgundy suit me as well as blue,” she teased.
“I believe that was my sister-in-law and Marguarite,” he responded, somehow both annoyed at the response and relieved, as he was now not sure how he could bear if she—
“You taught me about roses,” she said softly. “And patience. And permitted me, for a little while”—a small, sad smile flickered on her beautiful lips—“to see something new.”
“Rebecca.” The name was like a plea on his lips, for what, he could not say. After all, what was the purpose of asking for something that could not be?
“I can’t change,” she told him, as if she could hear his thoughts. “I am who I am, and I like the world in which I live.” She raised her chin once more with the dignity of a queen. “But this was a lovely place to visit,” she added with that same soft, sad smile, which he longed to coax into something more.
