“Couldn’t it be possible, then,” she said, “that your other ideas regarding her could be wrong as well?”
But he was already shaking his head. “No—”
Imogen held up a hand. “Do me the honor of hearing me out before you discount what I have to say. You cannot possibly know what is in Emily’s heart until you make an attempt to understand it. I have gotten to know her a bit in the past few days, and I can say that she is one of the sweetest girls of my acquaintance. She has never, not once, said anything to make me believe she holds you in any contempt. Indeed, I get the distinct impression that your distance grieves her.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “That cannot possibly be true.”
“I assure you, it is.”
Several emotions flashed across his face. “Then why did she not come to me?”
“Why did you not go to her?” Imogen shot back. “And besides, your sister is shy, even more shy than me in some ways. Do you honestly believe she would have put herself forward with you, who has become in so many ways a stranger to her?”
Caleb flinched. “What would you have me do?”
Imogen stood and moved toward him. “Go to her. Talk to her. Truly, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. If she verifies your feelings, you will be in the same position you have been for the past decade. But, if she does as I think she will and tells you that you were not to blame, you both can begin to heal this wound that has been festering. You can regain your sister. And, I hope, you will also begin to forgive yourself.”
At his dubious look, she took hold of his hand, giving it a tug. “You won’t know until you try. Do you truly want this doubt hanging over your head for the rest of your life?”
It was with a burst of relief that she saw his shoulders slouch in defeat. She gave another tug on his hand and he followed, to what she hoped would be a healing for them all.
• • •
The distance between Caleb’s room and his sister’s was not long, and before he was at all ready they were there. Imogen knocked sharply at the door. There was no answer. Caleb glanced down at Imogen uncertainly. To his surprise she pressed her lips together and took hold of the handle, pushing in, pulling him in after her.
He stood frozen for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light. Despite the hour of the day, Emily’s room was plunged into gloom, the curtains drawn tight. Only a few candles had been placed about, barely penetrating the darkness. He finally spotted his sister, seated before the empty hearth, a guttering candle at her elbow, an unopened book beside her.
“I told you before, Mother,” she said, her voice painfully brittle, “I’m not hungry.”
“It is not your mother,” Imogen murmured. Her voice was gentle and soft. Even so, Emily looked in their direction sharply.
Her face immediately paled when she saw Caleb. Pain flared in her eyes. Pain, Caleb noticed, not blame or hate. Was it possible that Imogen was right? Had he only seen what he expected to see?
“What is going on here?” she rasped. Betrayal saturated her features. “Why is he here, Imogen?”
Imogen pulled Caleb further into the room. “He is here to talk.”
“Talk?” Emily asked in disbelief. “What is there to talk about? I cannot think of anything more he might wish to say to me.”
As his sister presented them with her stiff profile, Imogen gave a small growl of frustration. “Both of you are more alike than you know, stubborn as the day is long. You will have this out, now. Do you know, Emily, that your brother has been blaming himself for Jonathan’s death all these years?”
Pain flooded Emily’s face and she gave a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Did you not think it wise to disabuse him of that notion?”
Emily swung her eyes to them. “Our mother and father tried for years to tell him he wasn’t to blame. If he would not believe them, what would make me think he would listen to the likes of me?”
“Because,” Imogen said, her voice gentling, “it was your opinion that mattered most.”
His sister’s pale eyes, so like his own and Jonathan’s, settled on him. His breath caught at the incredulity there. “But why?” Emily whispered.
Imogen, at Caleb’s side, nudged him forward. He gave her one last doubtful look before he moved closer to his sister and sank into the chair beside her. It went against everything he had been taught to sit in Imogen’s presence. But he could not tower over Emily for this.
“I know you must blame me, Emily,” he said. His voice came out rough and broken, and he cleared his throat. “You saw what happened. I practically pushed him. He is dead because of my selfishness and pride.”
But his sister sat forward, her formerly dull eyes suddenly blazing. “No, it was an accident. I know you never meant to throw him off balance. You did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame, it is I.”
Caleb was certain he must not have heard her right. “What did you say?”
