8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

T he afternoon rain arrived earlier than normal. It was the proper three o’clock downpour, only today, it swept in an hour early. So, when the allotted time for Noah’s arrival came and went, Willa assumed the weather had kept him away, and she decided to do what she did best.

Hide in the conservatory.

With a book in her lap and a few cats curled atop her as she snuggled under her favorite blanket, Willa spent an hour reading before deciding to stop and tackle Dickens. Christmas would be here before they realized and she needed to be prepared.

Not that she hadn’t read the novel at least two dozen times.

Flipping through the pages, she searched for a good place to start, never caring for the beginning of the novel. Why Mr. Dickens insisted on starting so many of his tales in such a depressing way was beyond her. There was enough of that nonsense in the real world.

No, she much more enjoyed something spectacular. If there were to be elements of gloom and despair in her stories, then she wanted tales with a proper monster to root for or even a villain who was so intriguing that it left her debating on who should win in the end.

“What’s this?” she murmured when a neatly folded piece of paper dropped into her lap. Setting the book aside, she opened it and grinned at her own messy handwriting.

A Christmas Promise

by: Wilhelmina Fairweather (age 10)

Instead of using her usual library copy of A Christmas Carol , Willa had chosen to be lazy and simply grabbed the old edition she kept here in the conservatory. The poor thing obviously hadn’t been opened in quite a few years, and as she read the poem, the memory of writing it had her smile growing even wider.

On Christmas Eve night

three little children lay in bed

whispering to the fourth

who should be dead

I will always love you

said the oldest and most fair

She was lovely and kind

without a worry to spare

And I will always be your friend

said the youngest and most brave

for there was never a moment

where her courage might cave

The one who should be dead

thanked them both sincerely

she hugged her sisters close

knowing they loved her dearl y

But the final one

their brother most severe

handsome and charming

never having a fear

He spoke soft and swift

in the deep, dark night

I will care for you always

but we will have to fight

Whatever do you mean

asked his sisters with concern

for they knew all too well

how his darkness could churn

Tie up loose ends

that’s what we must do

for once that is done,

we can take care of you

And so, on that Christmas Eve night

the Fairweather children huddled in tight

making oaths and promises to each other

speaking things best not heard by their father or mother

They would stay the course

and escape somehow

perhaps one day

if the fates allow

Goodness, that was atrocious. However, the day it was written had been a special one where Willa finally understood how much her siblings loved her. The four of them had snuggled together on her bed, making grandiose plans for the future as she recovered from an attack. Cal had been so serious about it all, ready to do whatever he needed to get her help. Some of the ideas he had put forth were quite terrifying, but back then he was known to occasionally use the most dastardly methods to gain what he wanted.

Thankfully, he eventually grew out of that phase; otherwise, who knows what type of man he would have become.

Tucking the paper back into the book, Willa settled on her lounger and began to read. However, somewhere around Ebenezer’s visit from the Ghost of Christmas Present, Willa’s eyes grew heavy. Not sleeping well had become a theme in her life. Between the occasional singing which continued to plague her nights, albeit much less now, and her quite improper dreams of Noah, she was hardly getting any rest.

And she must have dozed off because the next thing Willa knew, she was in yet another dream with Noah. This time, they were in the forest. Hidden from the world like the mill worker and his sweetheart. With her back against an old oak tree, Noah’s lips ravaged hers while his hand made its way up her skirt.

It had been deliciously wicked, not at all proper, and absolutely everything Willa wanted to experience. But she wanted more—so much more.

She just wasn’t sure what exactly .

The heavy ache that always followed these Noah-filled dreams settled in her bones. Crawling around in the very marrow, making demands that she could never fulfill.

The dream over, Willa stretched with a wide yawn. Her waking consciousness slowly rose to greet life again, and as it did, a keen sense of being watched sent a warning down her spine.

Popping one eye open, a second quickly followed, both taking in the sight of Noah sitting directly across from her in the only other chair on the lower level. He wore his usual white shirt, his suspenders showing since he must have left his jacket somewhere. The dark wool pants he wore were blotchy from the rain, while his hair was more than a little soaked and brushed back from those hypnotic blue eyes with which he studied her. Behind him, the pitter-patter of rain against the glass wall had lessened substantially compared to when she first settled down to read.

“You look quite peaceful when you sleep.”

Lifting herself into a sitting position, Willa patted the bun atop her head to ensure it had remained properly intact. It had, but at the first touch, the shell black rubber comb came loose, and her hair fell in a cascade across her shoulders. The small smile on Noah’s lips faltered, and she blushed—truly blushed—thinking she must look a sight.

“My apologies,” Noah murmured. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Willa swung her legs to the side of the chaise lounge, unsettling the cats and accidentally knocking her book onto the brick floor. She and Noah swept down simultaneously to pick up the tome, nearly colliding with one another in the process.

And with him crouched low and her barely hanging off the settee, they froze, each with a hand on the book.

“I want you to walk with me,” Noah whispered, his throat bobbing as he worked through whatever was going on in his head. “When the rain stops.”

“You know my lungs don’t do well in moist air,” she whispered in return. “I can’t go out in the rain.”

Noah released his grip on the book, but not before his index finger slid delicately down hers. The touch was simple, an accident perhaps, but that didn’t stop the rush of its effects on her body. Suddenly, she was back in the forest of her dreams, allowing this man to have her however he wanted.

“What did I tell you at The Gathering?” His whispering deepened to an almost sinful level, and Willa fought a sigh. She was getting to be as bad as Lucy. “With me, you can do anything. I’ll never allow you to come to harm and will always judge every situation accordingly. You’re what’s important, Willa. ”

Willa snapped up to sitting, almost smacking Noah’s perfectly proportioned face with her forehead. “Th-the rain will probably fa-all until dusk.”

Was she stuttering?

“A-and I can’t go out at night.” She was stuttering, and for some reason, her mouth thought it a good idea to continue talking. “We can go another day.”

“Why can’t you go out at night?”

She really had no idea. Alone in the dark with Noah sounded like a perfectly solid plan. “My mother.”

The threat of Margaret Fairweather would have been enough to give any sane man pause, but too bad for her, Noah Anderson decided to prove he was indeed not sane.

“You’re a grown woman.” He straightened to settle back in his chair. “Besides, I need to speak with you in private.”

“About?”

“Private things.” He studied her for a moment. “This house has ears, and I do not wish for what I have to say to be known.”

Willa didn’t need to turn and look. The warning was there. Bonnie must be lingering in the doorway.

“It could take hours for the rain to stop.”

He gave an arrogant shrug. “It won’t.”

And it would seem that even God Almighty wasn’t immune to Noah Anderson’s charm. Not but a second passed, and the storm abruptly ended. There was no tapering off, just a complete halt as if commanded.

Noah stood and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Willa gasped as the horse turned unexpectedly.

“You have ridden on a horse before, haven’t you?”

Keenly aware of every muscle in his thighs cradling her from behind, Willa nodded from her spot on the saddle. She hoped she wasn’t holding the horse’s mane too tight. The animal didn’t seem to mind, but it couldn’t exactly tell her if her grip was causing it pain.

“Relax, Willa,” Noah said directly in her ear, and her eyes went wide. He was so close. “I want you to focus on your breathing. We’re not going far. Just to the beach.”

Focus on her breathing? Impossible. She could only focus on the brush of his lips against her ear.

“Why the beach?”

“Because you said you wanted to visit it.”

“And?” Twisting in the saddle, she looked over her shoulder at him. “There must be another reason.”

“There isn’t. Whatever Wilhelmina Fairweather wants, she will always get if I have a say in it.” Noah guided the horse down the clay lane, leaving Haven House in the dust behind them. “Hold on tight. I’m going to let her run. If you need me to stop or slow down, just tap my leg.”

“Wait, what?”

Tangling her fingers in the horse’s mane, Willa squealed as the beast shot into a run with only a click of Noah’s tongue. Whenever she went into town with her family, they took a carriage, and with her body unfamiliar with how to handle the ride, she bounced in the saddle.

The stiffness in her muscles didn’t help, and knowing she would be sore tomorrow, Willa attempted to calm the strain, allowing the beauty of the moment to sink in.

And it really was a beautiful moment.

As the forest rushed past and the steady beat of hooves thundered under her, Willa began to feel giddy and lighthearted, almost like a child. Noah hadn’t given her any time to fix her hair, and she’d been forced to leave it loose, the wind knocking it about wildly.

She was still grinning like a loon when they reached the end of the lane before the horse crossed the road that traveled between Hollingsdale and Port Michaelson. With a quick tug on the reins, Noah guided them straight onto a narrow path where the brush hugged the edges. Branches and shrubbery caught on to her skirt before breaking, and realizing she had arched forward as if she were some jockey in a race, Willa leaned back slightly.

“Almost there.” Noah’s arm snaked around her waist, anchoring her against his chest. “We should make it in time to see the sunset.”

Beneath them, the clay gave way to a muddy brown and then to the granules of packed dirt that she hadn’t seen in ages. The path ahead curved, and as they made the bend, the beach appeared—an empty, wild expanse of color. The powder white sand, the blue and greens of the water, and a sky filled with various shades of pink and purple made for a spectacular sight.

Noah clicked his tongue again, and the horse switched from a light canter into a full gallop. Barreling to the water’s edge, it turned at the very last minute, running along the line of crashing waves. The spray of the salty air chased them, and Willa found herself laughing with excitement.

“I’ve got you.” Noah’s hold tightened. “Put your arms out and fly, Willa.”

She didn’t have to be told twice and held her arms out as they sped down the length of the beach. Free. This is what it felt like to be free. There were no worries about her breathing. No worries about her father. No John Richards. No uncertain future.

There was only Noah.

Steady and strong, and allowing her to spread her wings.

The ride continued until they reached a section of the beach met by the forest. He slowed their pace, instructing the horse to walk instead of run.

“How was that?”

“Marvelous!” Willa bent forward to hug the horse’s neck. “You are now my dearest friend, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Her name is Hope.”

Willa laughed. Irony was a staple in her life, and sometimes, it was best just to accept it. “Well, we are now friends for life, Hope. ”

She patted the smooth brown of Hope’s coat and didn’t miss Noah clearing his throat. “I feel as though Hope’s handler deserves that same affirmation of friendship.”

“Does he?” Willa returned to sitting upright, refusing to acknowledge that his arm remained firmly around her waist. Or how wonderful it felt to have it there. “Perhaps.”

“He most certainly does.” With a tight pull on the reins, Noah brought Hope to a stop and swung down. “Let’s walk.”

He helped her dismount. It was not a graceful endeavor, but he was kind enough not to laugh, even when she nearly toppled directly over his head.

Holding her at the waist, he bit down a grin as she settled on solid ground. “Are you sure you’ve ridden a horse?”

“Of course I have. I’ve just never ridden astride.” Willa held her head high, and Hope had the decency to snort on her behalf. “See, Hope believes me.”

“Women always stick together.” He smiled, devastating her as he seemed born to do. “It’s the law of the universe.”

As with any time after a storm, the waves roared, and gusts of wind sped about in every direction. Willa’s unbound hair smacked across her face, and she tried not to choke as the strands gagged her.

“What did you wish to talk to me about?”

The question caused the mischievous glint in Noah’s eyes to shift, dulling them to an alarming degree.

“Your sister.”

A coward at her core, Willa couldn’t meet his gaze. “What did they tell you about Grace?” she asked, staring at the water. “Whatever it is, I can explain.”

“Er, no.” Placing two fingers under her chin, Noah forced her to look at him. “I mean, yes, my aunt did tell me about Grace, but you’ll never have to explain her reasons. I can understand completely why she did what she did. ”

Willa’s brows snapped together. There was no telling what wild story his aunt had spouted off or what other rumor was being perpetrated by her own family. “What exactly do you think Grace did?”

“She fell in love.”

He stepped forward, leaving an inappropriate amount of space between them—one, maybe two inches. If either were to take a large inhale, their chests would touch, and that thought alone overrode her concerns of him knowing about Grace.

“Falling in love with someone who your parents don’t approve of isn’t a crime, Willa.”

It was if you were a Fairweather.

“He was a mill worker,” she said, her voice nearly drowning in the sea of noise surrounding them. “His name was Tommy, and he had a dog—a big Dane almost as tall as Grace. She loved dogs, you see, and when she happened upon Tommy and his dog walking through the forest on their way to work his shift at the mill, she couldn’t help but stop him to meet the animal.”

It hurt. It had been two years, and it still hurt. To lose Grace… She would carry that pain forever.

“When Tommy saw her, he was a goner, and to be fair, no man who ever laid eyes on our Grace managed to walk away without being a little in love. She was special. I would say beautiful, but the word is so inadequate.” Willa’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “She looked very much like my mother.”

Noah made a face of disgust before catching himself. “Apologies, but your mother is not what I envision when you say the word beautiful.”

Willa openly cackled. It did seem a bit preposterous. “My mother was quite the beauty before my father made her into what she is today.”

“Well, she does frown more than most, and I guess all that frowning has caused her to…” He trailed off, pressing his lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The only reason I know Grace resembled what our mother once looked like is because of the honeymoon portrait hanging in the upstairs hallway. My father commissioned it after their wedding. ”

It was always hard for visitors to tell whether the painting was of Margaret or Grace, which is why the portrait was moved upstairs. With golden hair and bewitching hazel eyes, their mother had once been a great prize to be won. But where her smile sat tightly on her lips, guarded and reserved, Grace’s smile was never such a way. Warm with an absolute wholesomeness shining through, Grace’s entire soul could be seen in her smile.

“But where my mother is short, Grace is tall like me,” Willa continued. “It’s one of the few physical traits we shared. Well, that and our freckles. She and I have the same matching pattern on our wrists.”

Noah’s warm hand came around to rest on her lower back, and she went rigid before realizing he was turning her to walk along the shore with him. Hope trailed behind, apparently not needing to be told to follow.

“You and Grace don’t look alike? But you said she was beautiful.”

The cool air circled them as they walked, but she didn’t mind. While Noah hadn’t given her time to fix her hair, he had made sure she was bundled properly in a coat. The dampness she expected was a mere afterthought, even with winter’s fingers digging their way in for the season.

“No, we’re not alike at all. Grace was perfect in every way.” Her sister’s face filled her mind, making Willa’s head hurt. “Well, not completely perfect. She had a scar under her right eye that I unfortunately gave her. On one of those rare, good days I had as a child, Bonnie took us outside to fly kites. I didn’t know what to do and was so excited that I mistakenly allowed my string to become wrapped around Grace’s head as we played. It eventually got so tight the string sliced her cheek, leaving a scar. My mother said I was lucky I hadn’t taken out her eye, and I was inconsolable for weeks in my guilt.”

“Was Grace upset?”

“Grace never got upset about anything and would say the scar served as a reminder of when her little sister was able to come outside and play. ”

Noah’s hand dropped from her lower back, and Willa didn’t want its loss to bother her so, but it did. She nearly stopped and demanded he return it.

“I know Grace ran off with Tommy, and your parents forbid her from returning to Haven House, but you’ll see her again one day.” He glanced ahead at the rise of sand pines in the distance. The thick cluster served as the barrier between the wild forest and the beach. “I bet every time she looks in the mirror and sees her scar, she thinks of you.”

Willa schooled her features, wishing that could be true. “Why did you want to talk about Grace?”

He winced. Not much, but enough to set her on edge. “I didn’t. I wanted to talk about Lucy.”