Chapter Eighteen

J acob's boots slapped down the cold, stone steps. When he reached the entrance to the kitchen, he halted as if he'd run into a wall. All chopping stopped, all conversation stalled, all eyes blinked at him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I need dough," he announced, finding his aunts and Anna's sister on the far side of the room.

Aunt Iris nodded, a contained smile on her face while Beatrice clapped ecstatically. "It's about time, my boy," she answered. "It's about time."

A half-hour later, Jacob was no closer to creating something that resembled a dinner roll, although he did feel better… which had been the whole point.

As Aunt Violet drank a cup of tea, engrossed in her newspaper, Beatrice and Aunt Iris bookended Jacob, taking turns advising and ordering, instructing and downright scolding him.

"No, no, no," Beatrice said, dropping her own perfectly shaped bun on the flour-dusted counter. "That's too much pressure. We told you, you must be gentle. When you write, you don't hold your pen like you're strangling it, do you? Gentle. Soft."

Jacob exchanged a look with Violet, but she merely shrugged, obviously taking the girl's side over his. Though he did appreciate her analogy. His hands immediately relaxed as he rolled the dough against the wooden top. After a few painstaking minutes, something that someone might actually mistake for food emerged.

"Ha!" he cried, holding it up for his tutors to witness. His chest swelled at their approving smiles. Whoever thought he would be so proud of a piece of dough?

"That's wonderful, Jacob. Good for you!" Iris said. Then, with the grin still fresh on Jacob's face, the confounded woman snatched the roll out of his triumphant hand and tossed it on the table.

Jacob's expression lagged along with the pitiful dough. "Why did you do that?"

"Because playtime is over, Jacob," his aunt replied sternly. She crossed her arms. "What are you going to do about Anna?"

He looked over her shoulder to see Beatrice in the exact position as his aunt, with an equally menacing frown. Those formidable women were spending too much time with one another.

"She's resting," he answered. "She says she's tired."

The worry in Beatrice's voice was palpable. "Just like before—"

"No," Jacob snapped. "Your father said it's not like before. She just needs time."

"Time for what?" Iris asked.

"I don't know."

"How much time?" Beatrice said.

"She didn't tell me. I'm not sure she even knows." Jacob spun to face Beatrice. "How long was she tired before?"

"After the illness?"

Jacob nodded.

Beatrice's youthful face wrinkled in thought. She picked at the dried dough on her hands. "I'm not sure. I was only thirteen. No one told me anything, I had to listen behind closed doors. It was such a confusing time. Everything was changing—David left for India. I remember Anna became ill, and then, even when the doctors said she had healed, she still remained in bed. She lay there for days and days, maybe months. Father had to beg her to eat. He asked me to read to her to keep her from sleeping the days away. We all knew something was wrong but couldn't say exactly what it was."

Jacob recognized the confusion and despair of someone who wanted to help, who wanted to dress a wound even though there was none to be found. He'd had experience with that as a child when his father would descend into one of his dark moods and take out his frustrations and underlying anger on Jacob's mother. Sometimes, even after the bruises had faded and the cuts had mended, Jacob would still find his mother in bed, staring at the wall, as if she were waiting for it to swallow her.

To the young Jacob, that behavior had been unusual, but not alarming. In those early years, his imagination was still wild and impressionable. If his mother could take comfort in a blank wall, then who was he to say any different? Hadn't he found solace in his writing? His pen and paper provided a world of possibility far removed from his somber home.

In the end, only his aunts could bring his mother out of her melancholic spells. Their effervescence and strength pulled her back to the light—and him—every time. That was one of the many reasons Jacob would journey to hell and back for those women. He would deny them nothing; he would take care of them until his dying breath.

He felt Aunt Iris's hand on his shoulder and knew that they were thinking about the same things. He squeezed her hand before focusing again on Beatrice. "What was it that brought her back?" he asked. "What made her eventually get out of bed?"

Beatrice's eyes became shiny. "I'm… I'm not sure," she stammered. "I don't remember. One day she just joined Father and me at breakfast. and we were so happy that we didn't think to ask why. We just wanted to forget the past and move on… be the family we always had been."

"And Anna seemed the same?"

"Yes," Beatrice said slowly, considering. "Other than her hair, obviously. But she was the same Anna. I suppose she started playing cricket like a madwoman. That's when she heard about the club and got involved with those odd ladies. Father and I thought she was insane for a while with how much she practiced—and made me practice with her—but she was enjoying herself, so we left her to it."

"Cricket?" Jacob repeated, an idea dawning.

Beatrice shrugged. "Cricket."

"Cricket?" Iris repeated.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder, meeting his aunt's gaze. "Cricket."

She smiled at him. "It could work."

"It could work," he agreed, comforted that, once again, they were thinking the same thing.

*

Three days later, Jacob had reached the end of his rope.

So had Anna.

"I don't want to go," she whined, flopping down on the bed. Her knuckles turned white as she clawed her hands into the bedsheets. Jacob watched her antics, aghast. Did she truly believe he was going to drag her out of his cottage kicking and screaming like some barbarian?

Though the idea did have merit…

"It's a beautiful day," he said, standing sentry by the door. "There won't be many more days like this. You should go out and enjoy the fresh air."

"I will go out," Anna said. "Later."

Jacob arched a brow. "Later." He snorted. "You mean at night, after everyone has gone to bed."

"I told you that I wanted to be alone."

"I understand that," he said, viscerally reacting to the hurt in her voice. He hated making her feel this way, hating pushing her, but today was the day his plan came to fruition. It was all he had, and he couldn't let her sidestep it before it had a chance to work its magic. "What if I promise you that you won't run into anyone that you don't want to?"

"You can't promise that."

"I can."

Anna yawned, making sure to catch his eye. She was laying it on thick. "I'm so tired. I think I need a nap before I consider a walk today. You know… you could take one with me."

Jacob had prepared for this. Over the last few days, it was the tactic she'd used the most. Whenever he mentioned leaving the cottage, Anna would circumvent his good intentions by suggesting they nap. And he'd be damned if he hadn't given in each time. The temptation had been too great. Holding her, watching her sleep, providing the succor and support she needed to feel safe, was like a drug to him. But, unfortunately , too much of anything was no good.

He moved in front of her. Anna batted her eyes innocently, opening them wide. "No more sleeping," he said firmly. He reached for her arms, pulling her up to his level. "Fresh air, blue skies, and a little exercise are what you need."

She twisted her arms from his grasp. "You don't understand, Jacob. It's not that easy to just… feel better. Feel like myself again. It's like everything inside of me is rebelling. I try to laugh and I try to smile, but it's as if my body is physically incapable."

Anna lowered her head, her cheeks going red. Jacob couldn't let her hide from him. He tipped her chin up. Her black lashes were wet. Her honesty had embarrassed her.

"You're right. I don't understand. But I do know what it's like to hide, and I don't want that for you. And I do know it isn't easy, even for someone so strong."

"I'm not strong—"

"Yes, you are," Jacob said, holding her gaze. "But now I need you to trust me. If you want to come back to the cottage after you've seen what I want to show you, then fine. But I'm begging you to try… for me. Can you do that?"

Anna stared at the buttons of his linen shirt for a long pause before eventually sighing. "Fine. Only for a few minutes."

"Good." He unhooked Anna's cloak and placed it over her shoulders while he opened the door, never taking his hand off her for fear that she might run back to the bed. "Everything will be fine. I promise," Jacob said, kissing the side of her head. Anna leaned into his kiss, and when he backed away, she fell against his chest.

"You can't promise that," she said as he nudged her past the threshold.

The sky was overcast. Clouds clung together, blocking out most of the sun. Anna shivered under her cloak, though Jacob wondered if it had anything to do with the temperature. From the corner of his eye, he watched her look around. He caressed the top of her hand with his thumb, hoping to reassure her. Didn't she know him by now? Didn't she know that he would never put her in harm's way?

Jacob had to calm his ego. Phillip had hurt her. Anna couldn't be blamed for her vigilance. It would be his job to continue to show her compassion and perseverance. He looked forward to it.

As the couple made their way out of the Asian garden, Anna's footsteps faltered. She turned to him, panic setting in. "I thought we were staying close?"

Only a little farther. "Just a little bit more."

"Jacob…" Anna's voice warbled. "What is going on?"

"Nothing is going on," he replied, before quickly adding, "Well, nothing you would mind."

Anna tugged her hand out of his, her eyes as sharp as knives. "I knew this was a trick! I told you that I didn't want—"

Crack!

She blinked. "What was—"

A whoop of delight cut her off. The noise was close by, coming from the other side of the tall hedges.

Anna frowned while Jacob sent up a silent prayer. Just in time.

Her feet began to move again. No longer needing to be dragged, she marched forward, rounding the hedges to identify the source of the commotion.

Jacob gathered that she had found his surprise when he heard her shriek. He hurried to catch up.

As he came to her side, Jacob saw three women stretched out on the lawn. Wickets were set up for a game of cricket, though nothing was happening at the moment. The women had stopped play and were staring at Anna as she remained stunned on the sidelines.

She opened her mouth a few times before anything came out. Her focus was on the brown-haired woman in the middle of the lawn, no doubt the leader of the trio. "How are you…" Anna shook her head. "What are you doing here?"

The ostensible leader planted her hands on her hips. Her expression was hard, though not unfriendly. She nodded toward the other two women in the field. "We heard you needed to practice," she said matter-of-factly. "We also heard you were indisposed and couldn't come to the field, so we decided to come to you."

The leader's attention switched to Jacob, and he almost flinched. The woman was uncommonly direct. It was rather jarring. "Hello, cousin," she said, finally flashing a smile. "It's always nice to visit family."