Page 74 of The Light Between Worlds

“I can’t hear you, love.” I push myself up further in bed and lean forward to catch her words.

“You should have left me,” she says. “You shouldn’t have brought me with you. It was wrong to take me away.”

At first, all I can do is sit and breathe. I will never forgive myself for the things I’ve done, and I’ve always marveled at the greatness of Evelyn’s heart, that she could so completely overlook my part in her distress. But she hasn’t forgiven me, just buried the hurt as deep as the taproot of an ancient oak. We’ve both been consumed on the inside by that moment on the beach.

“Evelyn, I’m so sorry.” I twist the covers desperately between two hands. “I never thought things would be like this. When we were in the Woodlands I missed home terribly, but I still got by. I only meant to keep my word, and to keep you safe.”

“Iwantyou to go,” she says, sitting straight-backed and lovely with those flowers in her hair. “I don’t just think it would be for the best. I want you to leave, Philippa. Stop deciding for me. Stop propping me up. I need to stand on my own again, and if I fall, I fall. But I don’t need you and I don’t want you. It would be better for both of us if you left.”

I’ve known many bleak moments in my life. I’ve known desperation and shame and sorrow and fear. But in this moment my battered heart finally breaks and it pains me so, I think I might die of it.

The very last thing I have is my pride. I gather the tattered vestiges of it around me like a cloak and fix my sister with an icy stare. “I’ll go then. I see no reason to stay where I’m not wanted. Millie’s asked me to visit her family in America, and there’s a school there holding a place for me.”

“Good.” Evelyn smiles softly, even as she deals me one final blow. “All I’ve ever wanted is to remember, Philippa, and you’re determined to make me forget.”

She stands and pads away, soundless on her bare feet. I watch her go, and refuse the softer part of me that wants to call out after her.

53

“I’M SORRY.”

The words startle me out of my thoughts as Jack Summerfield limps into Presswick’s office and takes a seat in her empty chair. “I shouldn’t have lectured you. That’s not what you need right now. Whatdoyou need, Philippa? I want to help.”

I press one hand to my chest, where the little silver stag rests against my collarbone. “Are you asking in earnest? Don’t offer unless you mean it.”

Jack leans forward and nods, his brown eyes sincere. “I am. Tell me what I can do.”

I should give him some small errand, to make him feel as if he’s done his bit. Have him fill my thermos with coffee, or take me for a walk. I shouldn’t be truthful, but I am.

“I need to go to Yorkshire. Ev was there over Christmas, visiting a friend. I’d ask my brother to come, but he’s started studying for exams, and I hate to take him away. And I’d go alone, but—I’m afraid to.”

It brings me very low to admit that. I stare down at the stack ofpapers before me until Jack reaches across the desk and takes my hand in his.

“I’ve got a car, and some time off coming to me,” he says simply. “Will Presswick give you a day if you ask for it? We could leave early Saturday morning, get rooms at an inn, and drive back Monday. You’d have Sunday to make your inquiries about Evelyn. What do you say?”

“Why are you so kind to me?” I ask, looking at him in bewilderment. “I am sharp-tongued and faithless and I live my life shutting out other people when I’m not using them for my own ends. I know these things about myself. So why are you doing this?”

Jack gets up and comes around the desk. He sets his cane aside, and slowly, carefully, mindful of his prosthetic, lowers himself to his knees in front of me.

I nearly choke. In the Woodlands, no one knelt except to swear their lives to the Great Wood’s cause in time of war. I heard so many oaths like this, and watched so many of those oathtakers die. I swore the same oath myself only to break it in spirit, if not, in the end, in deed.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Philippa Hapwell?” This time, Jack takes both my hands in his own. “In the short time that I’ve known you, I’ve seen loyalty, and courage, and a determination to find the good in those around you. You show mercy to others, and save none for yourself.”

I look away and press my lips together for fear I’ll cry in front of him again. I thought I’d spent all my tears, but Jack Summerfield seems to have found an inexhaustible well of them.

“Let me help you,” he says. “You don’t have to do this on your own.”

I turn back to him and nod. “Alright. But will you do something else for me first?”

Jack smiles. “Anything. Name it.”

“I’ve only been waiting for you to kiss me again.”

He rises up on his knees and I lower my mouth to his, and it’s true I don’t deserve this, don’t deserve the small and fierce joy of knowing him, but now I’ve been given it, I don’t plan to let it go.

On Saturday before dawn, I meet Jack outside the tall brick house where he rents rooms. He pushes up the door to the garage and reveals a well-kept Morris Minor.

I’m holding my thermos of coffee like a lifeline and still only half awake in the dim grey light as Jack switches on the headlamps and we make our way out of London. The streets are relatively empty so early in the morning on a weekend, and before long we’re free of the city, and out into the open countryside.