“If God is punishing you, then He must also punish me.” With a sigh, Aunt Mary sat on the edge of the bed.
“Surely not. You are good and kind. What could you have possibly done to deserve punishment?”
“Plenty. One of which I’m most ashamed. But I was afraid... more afraid than I can ever remember.”
He regarded her, her frame so slight, her posture so frail, her dark hair laced with gray, frayed with grief. “What do you mean?”
“Esther left you a letter when she visited the surgeon’s.”
When he didn’t respond, Aunt Mary continued. “I burned it.” Her shoulders shivered with her confession. “I feared you leaving me. Feared being alone. Feared she’d eventually tire of you, leave, and break your heart.”
“I would never leave you. Esther would embrace you as her own. As for her leaving me, well, we cannot say, can we? We’ll never know.”
“Sir Michael was so dead set against your uncle. Against you. I have such regret for signing his document without discussing it with you. What a fool I am.”
“You must forgive yourself, Aunt.”
“He came to Dr. Nelson’s and manipulated Esther away. And I aided him. He said with no hesitation he did not wish her married to you. Oh, Hamilton, I was awash with terror. What if she defied him, married you, then tired of caring for a cripple? Tired of life on the farm. Tired of chasing after the children, should there be any, on her own?”
“So you and Sir Michael chose for us.”
“The decision seemed prudent, even wise at the time. But these past months have given me time to think.” She smiled softly. “But, Hamilton, I still wonder. What would become of you, when after all you’ve endured, the love of your life forsook you? Abandoned you? Tell me? Then what, Hamilton? Then what? You can recover from a broken limb, but a broken heart? I feared for you... feared.”
Her soft words carried a fierceness that reverberated in the small room.
“Yet now you urge me to go after her?”
“Because I am more ashamed of my meddling than my fears. I hear the sound of longing and love in her voice, and I know she is what you need, my boy. Her love will bring you back to life.”
“What do you want of me?” He hobbled on one foot for his crutch and stared out the window. “Why do you torment me?”
“Hamilton, leave your stubbornness behind and go after her. Be the man you are meant to be whether you feel it or not. Rise up and let your heart, for once, have its way.”
JESSE
He’d started an e-mail an hour ago, deliberating over what he was about to write. But the time for debate was over. He knew what he needed to do. Next to his computer in the Daschles’ guesthouse, his phone pinged. It was Becky, Jeremiah’s assistant.
She’s on her way home. You said to let you know.
Thanks.
Jesse set down his phone.
Since his dramatic departure fromBound by Love, he was lost.
Adrift. It was as if this film became a bookend to Loxley’s death, capturing every day in between. From death to death.
He was restless. Anxious. Confused. Burdened by walking out on people who believed in him. Trusted him. Jeremiah assured him there was no ill will on his part. He’d have walked out on the project himself if he could have.
But the assurance of a great director couldn’t change the reality—Jesse had killed his career.
His agent was livid. “You walked out on Greg Zarzour?”
“He wanted me to make crazy changes to the script. I couldn’t do it, I tell you. I couldn’t.”
“Jess, you’re the new kid in town. You make the changes until you’ve earned the right not to. Even then, you don’t walk out. Think of your career! Think of mine. Everyone is talking about this. I can’t contain it. We may need to rethink our arrangement.”
Since walking off the South Carolina set, Jesse’s love for show business had evaporated. His reasons for being in LA no longer made sense. Because Loxley died? How long would her death haunt him?
