Could he dare hope she might give her heart to him? He wouldn’t rush her to marry, only a courtship for now. Then someday, a wedding like Hays and Emma, Chisholm and Caro.
The ring resting in his top bureau drawer seemed to call to him. He’d seen it at a shop while on leave, soon after enlisting in the army. From the first moment of glimpsing it, he’d known it was meant for Annie and no other. After the war it had lain beneath a pile of shirts, unworn and rarely touched. He’d taken it out once or twice, but before Annie had reentered his life, the pain of even looking at it had been too great. Could it be possible that now, after all these years, both he and the ring had a second chance?
“Annie?”
She raised her gaze from her work, laying it aside. Robbie had been worn out upon his return from El Regalo and had promptly fallen asleep, curled up on the rug beside the family’s shaggy black dog. Mr. Parker had gone outside half an hour ago to check on a problem in the stables. Leaving the two of them alone.
“Yes, Travis?”
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “It was a fine day, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, candlelight dancing across her features. “A day to remember. I can’t recall when I’ve laughed so much. Your brothers … my goodness. And your father seems so pleased with his family, with all they’ve achieved. He seems especially proud of you.”
Yes, well … “What about you, Annie? What do you think of the life I’ve built here?” He waited, his breath and hopes hanging on her answer.
Her gaze fluttered to the carpet. Seconds—or was it hours?—passed before she spoke. “I think what you’ve accomplished is a thing to be proud of. I’m proud of you, Travis Hart. The war stole so much from so many. Not everyone has managed to regain all they lost. You’re one of them. As for myself…” Finally, those ever-changeable eyes met his. “Stuart was so young when he died, with so much of his life ahead of him. He never got to see his son. Not once.”
“But you never cared for Stuart. Wasn’t it your father who coerced you into marriage?” Since the day he’d first clapped eyes on Stuart Lawrence, Travis hadn’t held favorable feelings for the young man a few years his senior. Callous, often uncaring, he treated the world as if he held it in his beefy palm, goaded by his banker father. Stuart had been accepted as Annie’s intended since their adolescence. Travis hoped the war might have changed that. But when he’d heard of their marriage in a letter from Houston, all hope had died, there on the battlefield like so many men.
It had come to life again. And in a few more minutes, that hope might take its first mewling cries, as Annie pledged her promise.
I haven’t stopped loving you, Travis. I would be honored to allow your courtship.
Annie’s soft voice brought an end to his musings. “I never gave Stuart the chance he deserved. How I behaved toward him is something no husband should have to experience.” Her words, as well as the tears glimmering in her eyes, doused him like a bucket of ice water. What did she mean, the chance he deserved? She’d been a mere seventeen years old, and forced into the deal by her money-hungry father. “The two days we were together as husband and wife should have been the most joyous of Stuart’s life. Instead, I made him miserable.” Sorrow choked her words. “He tried to be kind and loving. He wanted to be a groom to his bride. And all I could think of was my foolish, selfish dreams.” She stood, her sewing landing on the floor, and paced the carpet, her back to him.
Travis sat, as still as if rigor mortis had set in.
“I still remember the last words he said to me, just as he was leaving. ‘I’ll be home soon, Annie. And maybe, when I return, you’ll find it in your heart to think kindly upon me.’ I should have kissed him.”
She spun around, her skirt swirling. “But no. I just stood there, not even extending so much as my hand in farewell. He wrote to me after that, a few letters in much the same fashion. He told me he wanted me to love him and that he’d do his best to love me. But he never came back. Sometimes I wonder if it was my indifference that killed him. If I’d treated him as I should, perhaps he would’ve fought harder to live. If I’d written and told him I was carrying his child, he might not have let himself die. So you see, Travis, I’m not proud of the life I lived then. But I will be proud of the one I live now. I was not a good wife to Stuart while he walked this earth, but I’ve been true since I learned of his death.” She sank into her chair, palm pressed against her mouth, silent tears falling down her cheeks.
He drew in a fortifying breath, pain lancing his heart at the shadows of guilt this woman dwelt under. God, help me to make her see the truth.
“Annie, Stuart is gone. No amount of sacrifice on your part will bring him back. I … I … care about you very much. I—”