He reached over and took her hand in his larger, warmer one. “We all like to feel needed, important to those we love. It’s only natural. And ye are important. To all of us.”
Sarah’s chest tightened and tears blurred her vision. “Thank you. That is kind of you to say.”
For a moment she returned the pressure of his hand, but then she slipped her fingers from his and rose. “Now I had better go to bed as well. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and there will be much to do.”
The next morning, Sarah rose early as was her custom and went downstairs to the library-office. She was surprised to find Effie already up, staring out the window toward the turbulent sea, expression troubled.
“Good morning, Effie. Everything all right?”
“Well enough, I suppose. Odd about your mam and Georgie bringing that little girl here to live, is it not?”
“Certainly surprising.”
“What do ye think about it?”
“I hardly know. It’s still so new. Why? Does it ... trouble you for some reason?”
“I liked it better when Georgie treated me as her little sister.”
Sarah’s heart went out to her, and she stepped closer. “Oh, Effie. She is very fond of you as well.”
Effie shrugged. “Then she’d be the first.”
“That is not true. All of us care about you. And your stepfather and your aunt both love you deeply.”
Another shrug.
“In fact, Mr. Henshall told me when you two were last here that although he is not your natural father, he feels as protective and fond of you as any father would—any good, loving father, that is.”
When Effie remained quiet, Sarah laid a hand on her shoulder and said gently, “I am sorry your parents were not ... all they might have been. Is that why you don’t want to visit your mother’s grave?”
Effie nodded. “I should have been here when she died. If I had been, perhaps...” She shook her head. “But she did not like me. Refused to bring me to Sidmouth with them, even though Mr. Henshall insisted he would welcome my company.”
“Perhaps she thought you were too young to travel such a long way.”
Again Effie shook her head. “I hoped she might warm toward me after my father died. But no.”
“Mr. Henshall mentioned that her first husband was ... difficult.”
“Aye. He gambled away most of her valuables. Yelled vile things at her. Struck her.”
“And you?”
“He didna strike me. Well, only with words.”
“Those leave lasting wounds too.”
“Now I don’t even like bearing his surname. My aunt says I should use Mam’s maiden name—her surname too—but I’m not sure. Mr. Henshall asked me once to adopt his name. I refused. This was a few years ago. I was mean and spiteful about it. Perhaps I really am my father’s daughter.”
“You were an angry adolescent, Effie. Not the first and not the last.”
“Maybe. Yet I regret that now.”
“Then talk to him. I’m sure it’s not too late.”
For a moment Effie said nothing. Then her discouraged expression brightened. She sent Sarah a mischievous sidelong glance and said, “I’ll consider taking his name... if ye will.”
Sarah blinked in surprise. If the girl was in earnest, it was quite a compliment, really. Yet Sarah thought it wiser not to reply. Instead she chuckled a bit awkwardly, squeezed Effie’s hand, and excused herself.
