Chapter Thirty-six
Winston walked through the house he had shared with Poppy for the past fourteen years. Standing within its walls flooded him with both comfort and pain. He did not know what made him search up rather than down. He’d never gone onto his roof before. Really, why would one? Even so, his steps took him there, steady and sure as he climbed the risers to the attic. The temperature did not rise as he expected but grew distinctly cooler, prickling his skin.
His breath came out in frosty puffs as he reached the top. An icy breeze, unnatural in the late summer evening, blew through the open window at the top of the landing. He crouched down and glanced through it, only to shiver when soft snowfall landed upon his neck. White billows of snow covered the wide ledge that ran along the front of the house and melted just as quickly as it competed against the surrounding summer heat.
Cursing beneath his breath, he eased out of the window and picked his way along. She sat in a small, flat space between windows. Poppy was a tall, strong woman, but seeing her huddled down, she appeared diminished, almost fragile. And it made his heart hurt. Big, feathery flakes of snow fell, covering her bright hair and slim shoulders in a mantle of pure white. He glanced up, fascinated to see where it began, but the murky sky held its secrets.
Obviously sensing him, her shoulders hunched in closer, and her head bent down as if, by avoiding eye contact, he’d somehow not see her. He eased his coat off and sat next to her, ignoring the ice that seeped into his trousers. She did not move as he gently brushed the snow from her shoulders and then put his coat over her. “You’ll freeze out here.”
Poppy shrugged. “I don’t really feel it.” She glanced in his direction, not meeting his eyes. “You ought to take this back before you catch a cold.”
“My gentleman’s sense of honor insists that you wear it. Even if I am the one freezing my arse off.”
A small smile played about the corners of her mouth, as he had hoped, but it did not remain. “I don’t know why I can’t control it anymore.” She scowled down at her hands. “It is irksome in the extreme.”
“Perhaps the baby affects you?” he offered with due caution. Women, he’d heard, were notoriously sensitive about such matters.
But her scowl waned in favor of a short nod. “Perhaps so.” She sighed and then took a deep breath, and with it, the snowfall stopped. “Better?” she asked as she gathered the ends of the coat sleeves into her lap.
He drew his knees up and let his forearms dangle over them. “I don’t know. Are you better?”
The elegant column of her neck moved on a swallow as she glared at sights unseen. “I deserve this,” she said at last. “Every bit of their censure. Of yours.” Her lip wobbled but she bit down on it. “Even so, it wears on me, Win.”
He drew her against his chest, where it was warmer, where she could rest against his heart. He held her tightly as she started to cry, silently at first and then in choking sobs. His Poppy crying. He’d never seen her do it. And it made him angry, made him want to slay dragons for her. Only he’d been one of the fiends who had made her cry.
“Let it out, sweet.” He pressed a fierce kiss to her temple. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”
She wrapped herself around him as a child might. Gently he rocked her, stroking the smooth crown of her head. A sound from the windows had him stiffening. Miranda and Daisy stood at the edge of the roof. Twin looks of disbelief held their expressions as they watched their sister sob. A part of him wanted to snarl at her sisters and drive them away. He wouldn’t see Poppy hurt further. But it was not his place, and they deserved to have their say.
Sensing his tension, Poppy stilled and lifted her head. Tears gleamed on her reddened cheeks. She flinched, her hands tightening on his shoulders. Win leaned in close. “I will send them away if you want me to.”
“No. Thank you. I should talk to them.”
“As you wish.”
Miranda and Daisy waited for him to approach. They were beautiful women. Stunning, really. Yet he remembered them as girls. Miranda started when he reached out, but she let his hand rest on her cheek.
“We ought to have insisted on bringing you into our house when we left,” he said. “I’ve always regretted that.”
Her green eyes widened. “No, brother. My life had to be as it was. Or I would never have found Archer.”
He found himself smiling. “I still view you as the little girl who taught me to polka, and yet you are far wiser than me.” When her hand clasped his, he leaned closer. “You know, I do not think I’d change a thing either. As you said, one change and the whole story alters.”
Miranda’s shrewd eyes lit with amusement. “Well played, Winston.”
“I’ve no idea what you mean.”
Daisy peered at him, her blue eyes glittering in the way of the GIMs. “Don’t you?”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “None whatsoever.”
Her sisters were here. Horribly, she could not stop sobbing. Her emotions were out of the gate now, stampeding with impunity. Now she clung to Daisy like a child. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered against the plump smoothness of Daisy’s cheek. “I-I did not mean to hurt you two.”
“We know that. You’ve always tried to balance the world’s troubles on your shoulders. You are so strong, sister mine.” Daisy’s blond curls trembled as she shook her head. “Rock of Gibraltar and all that. I have always been in awe of your strength.”
Poppy made a noise of irritation. “It isn’t strength. It’s tenacity. It simply isn’t in me to let go of an endeavor once I start.” A lump formed in her throat and made her words thick. “But it is not strength. Each day I feel weaker. So very weary.” She clenched her fist, and snow began to fall again, landing in icy flakes upon her skin. “I’d like nothing more than to lay my head down and forget the world, truth be told.”
Miranda’s voice was soft. “And yet how can a person keep holding on without strength?” Her green eyes assessed Poppy from beneath dark lashes. “You simply have to learn how to lean on one of us now and then.”
Poppy stared down at her workworn hand with its short clipped nails. Her wedding ring gleamed on her finger. It was a glorious ring, a delicate gold band that held a fiery orange cabochon carnelian surrounded by diamonds. She’d been speechless when Win had slipped it on her finger, for it spoke of beauty, grace, and strength. His eyes had been dark when he looked at her, and in that moment, she felt as though she was his whole world, that no one existed for him but her, just as he was the only thing right and perfect in her life. “It is only a ring,” he whispered, his fingers warm upon hers. “Not nearly enough to encompass my love for you. But wear it and know that I am yours. Always.”
She’d lost that because she hadn’t opened herself up fully. Was it as simple as saying what one felt? Her lips twisted in distaste, but she had to try.
“We always end up bickering,” she said to her sisters as she stared at her hand. “But I…” She gathered herself and met her sisters’ wary gazes. “I have always wished I could be more like the two of you, able to find light in the darkness.” Daisy’s eyes widened, and Poppy forged on. “If I pushed you two, it was because I never wanted anything to snuff out your light. I wanted you to be strong and be more than I ever could. And… well, now you both are.”
Daisy’s lips parted, shock apparently rendering her silent for once. Poppy’s face heated, and then Daisy smiled. “Good Lord, but you’ll have me watering like a pot in a moment.”
Miranda’s hands stroked her hair. “Oh, hell, Pop, it isn’t as if I’ve a right to cast stones. I burned down Father’s warehouse and ruined the family. And you… You never once shamed me for it.” And then she was sobbing too.
Poppy turned into her embrace, trying to quiet her even though she couldn’t quiet herself.
Beside them, Daisy began to sniffle. “That’s old news. If you really want a confession, I must admit… I was the one who ate those cream caramels Winston sent you when you were courting!” With a pathetic pout, she held her arms out for a hug.
Miranda and Poppy glared at her, and then Miranda snorted. “And you talk of old news.”
“You had a caramel smudge on your chin when you denied your sins and did not even notice,” Poppy added in disgust.
Daisy scowled. “I felt terribly guilty! For hours!”
“Bah,” Miranda said as Poppy wiped at her face. “You merely had a sour stomach to lament.”
There was a small silence in which someone sniffled. And then they were laughing.