“The doctor didn’t know if you’d ever wake up.”
She let her lids close, but the turquoise sea was gone. Only the pain remained. Her head hurt. The tiniest movement sapped her strength. Her throat was parched. She forced her eyelids open again. “Water?”
“Even better.” Charlie appeared at the bedside, towering over her. The thumping stopped. “Cook sent up a pot of tea twenty minutes ago. Earl Grey. Your favorite.” He lowered himself into a bedside chair and set aside crutches.
“You can walk,” she gasped.
He looked abashed. “I’ve been practicing for weeks. Months, actually. Father had one of the Army engineers at the fort make the leg braces and crutches in August, but they take some getting used to. I took a lot of spills before I got it right.”
“But . . . the wheelchair?”
He lowered his gaze. “I didn’t want to fall in front of people. Father helped me practice at night, and Rourke would help when he came to play chess.”
At the mention of Rourke’s name, her throat constricted.
Charlie continued. “Once you arrived, I told Father I couldn’t learn to use them. It was easier to stay in my room.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I might have been a little angry at you too. I wanted to make you feel awful for what happened.”
“I am sorry.”
“It’s not really your fault. Rourke tried to make me see that, but I didn’t understand until I saw how courageous you were.”
“Me?” She rubbed her throat.
“Sorry.” He poured tea into a teacup. “By helping Anabelle to freedom. That’s when I realized you weren’t totally selfish.”
“But I was.”
“When it mattered, you acted unselfishly. I figured if you could do that, I could accept that I’m crippled and stop worrying what people say.” He held out the cup. “Here.”
She winced at his words. He had to accept so much, and no matter what Rourke said, it was her fault. She attempted to take the teacup from him, but the handle slipped from her fingers, and the brown liquid spilled all over the coverlet. “I’m sorry.” Tears rose. “I made a mess of everything.”
He blotted at the spill with a cloth. “My fault. I should have known better. Here, let me hold the cup for you.”
With great care and patience he eased the liquid to her lips, asking after every sip if she wanted more.
Elizabeth marveled at his gentle spirit. “You’re a lot like Mother.”
“I miss her. Father spent time with me every day, but it wasn’t the same. And now he’s gone.”
“Gone?” Memories tumbled through her head. Anger darkening his expression. Fury. The blow. She touched a hand to her cheek. It didn’t hurt.
“It’s healing,” Charlie confirmed, “but it’s a nasty green and purple color.”
She did not care how she looked. Rourke would never return. And he wasn’t the only one missing. “What do you mean that Father is gone?” Anger rose again. Before she had recovered, he left. “Where did he go? To fetch Mr. Finch?”
“He left on business.”
“What business? That doesn’t make sense. Attorneys don’t need to travel.”
Charlie shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that it was urgent.”
She squeezed her eyelids shut. He had gone after Mr. Finch. Or Rourke. Her eyes flew open. “Rourke? Was he caught?”
“No. They should be at Harbour Island by now.”
Elizabeth breathed out, both relieved and devastated. “He will never return.”
Charlie squeezed her hand. “You have to hope.”
But she knew the cost of Anabelle’s freedom. Rourke had to pay. She had to pay.
“Tom Worthington stopped by after Father left,” Charlie said. “He told me everything that happened, what you did to help our half sister.”
“So you do know about Anabelle.”
“You left me Mother’s diary. Of course I know. It wasn’t difficult to figure out, and Father confirmed it.”
“He did?” That did not sound like Father.
“There’s no reason to keep it secret now.”
Anger warred with relief. No more secrets, but it had cost her everything. “Do you hate him?”
A frown creased his brow. “He was always good to me. I suppose I was angry with him at first, but Mother found a way to forgive him, so I figure I should too.”
That was too simple. Elizabeth could not set aside so easily the pain his actions had caused. “I can’t. He destroyed everything I loved.”
“Everything? You’re alive. You still have your family.”
Her conscience pricked. “I do love you, Charlie.” But everything else was gone. Rourke. Anabelle. The loving father she’d thought she had. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.
“He loves you,” Charlie said.