Page 8 of The Way We Were

Chapter Four

After breakfast, Lucy took a long solitary walk along the beach, admiring the Royal Pier with its suspension chains rising and falling between the iron pylons. The chains were bolted into the stone wall that rose beneath the town. Several small packet boats from France were docked alongside.

She nodded to visitors who nodded to her, enjoyed inhaling deep lungfuls of sea air. Birds sailed on the wind, and the ladies hid in bathing machines that were rolled away from shore to protect their modesty as they swam. The last time she had been to the seaside was⁠—

When she and Reggie had taken Anna to Blackpool? They’d collected shells and made a sandcastle and⁠—

As it often happened, the grief caught her hard, overtaking her just like the wave that had pulled Anna’s doll away from the shore. Reggie had rescued the precious toy by splashing out into the water fully clothed, his hat blowing off his head as he returned to Anna, triumphant.

Where was that doll now? Perhaps with all the toys her mother had hidden in a trunk so Lucy wouldn’t have to see them.

Lucy blinked hard, trying to press her overwhelming sadness down deep inside where she could try to ignore it. But never for very long.

Suddenly she saw every child on the beach, envied every smiling mother, and hated that she had been the one to lose her child to scarlet fever. It had almost caused her to turn her back on God, but her prayers to Him sometimes sustained her in bad moments.

This was not going to be a bad moment, she told herself, squaring her shoulders, sniffing in her threatening tears, and putting on a fake pleasant smile. She had to be prepared to face Reggie at luncheon, and if she let herself be swept away in her grief, he would know and be distracted.

By the time she returned to the Royal Albion Hotel late that morning, she was feeling better, refreshed from her walk. And there was Reggie in the lobby, carrying an enormous wicker basket, looking mischievous and pleased with himself. He still wore his red uniform, and many guests looked over at him in admiration.

Again, her heart did the little flutter of pleased happiness that apparently had not gone away with their separation.

“Frowning already?” Reggie asked.

She hadn’t realized her internal reaction to her own weakness was so apparent.

“Forgive me, I was thinking of…something else.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No, I’m perfectly capable of solving my problems.”

Heavy in the air between them hung the words because I’ve done everything by myself this last year.

As if he heard, his smile faded a bit. Then he seemed to rally, lifting up the basket.

“I’ve ordered a luncheon for us. I know you’ve never been to Brighton, so I thought you would enjoy picnicking at the Royal Pavilion. Queen Victoria sold it to the city last year, so the gardens are now public.”

Lucy loved gardens—he knew it. So she nodded and together they turned to walk down the pavement, past those heading for the beach, and merging with others who had the same destination.

As it came into view, Lucy had to gasp. It was a royal residence with an Indian influence, roofs that were pointed bulbous domes, and rows of arches along the ground floor.

“Can we tour inside?” she asked.

“Not yet, but soon. They’re still redecorating after the queen took her own furnishings and fixings back to Buckingham Palace.”

They entered the grounds, walking across open meadows bordered by flowers, edged with shrubs and trees. It was to one of the larger trees that Reggie led her, and its sheltering branches felt a little more secluded. He opened the basket and spread a blanket across the soft grass, inviting her with a gesture to be seated.

As she knelt and spread out her skirts before sitting, Reggie began to bring out their feast: meat pies, chunks of cheese with bread, summer berries, peach tarts, and a stoppered bottle of lemonade.

After Lucy had eaten several pieces of cheese and some berries, she regarded Reggie eating meat pie with gusto. “I had breakfast with Miss Fournier.”

He swallowed and then washed down his food with a swig of lemonade. “Glad to hear it, but I don’t wish to discuss her right now. It will just distract us from our own problems.”

She arched a brow.

His smile faded into earnestness. “I haven’t seen you in a year, sweetheart. Today is about us.”

Hearing the endearment partially saddened her but also brought back sweeter memories. She tried to ignore them.