CHAPTER 13
Tears pressed, and it took all of Naomi's strength to hold them back. Why had she wanted this? She'd spent months mourning Eric's absence, and here he was. Here and saying the words she'd dreamed. The words she'd prayed for, longed for, ached for in the deepest corners of her being.
Yet allowing Eric back in meant giving up all the stability she had in Jonah. The confidence that he wouldn't leave her. That he would always be by her side, providing a home and steady support. She would be safe with Jonah.
She had no confidence of that with Eric.
What should she say? How could she know Eric was sincere now when he'd failed so miserably before? He'd never explained why he ignored her all this time.
Maybe that was the place to start. If he was truly sorry for abandoning her, if he was willing to prove to her he was different, then she could begin to trust him.
She let out a breath and met his gaze. "I don't understand what happened. You said you would be gone for three or four weeks to help your father in his business, but you never came back. You sent all my letters back, unopened. Why?"
He frowned, his eyes not reflecting the shame she'd expected. This was more like...confusion. He tipped his head. "What letters? I don’t… I never heard from you. Not one answer to every note I sent." Now embarrassment touched his expression, and he dipped his chin. "I don't blame you. What I did that night, it was...unthinkable. I should have... I shouldn’t have…"
He looked up at her, his gaze as earnest and full of regret as she'd ever seen it. "I'm sorry, Naomi. I shouldn't have let things get out of hand. I made excuses. I told myself that, because we planned to marry, it would be all right. I was weak, and I didn't protect you the way I should have. It was an unforgivable act, but...if you can find it in your heart to forgive me…" His throat worked, and his brows tented as he waited for her response.
Heat flushed up her cheeks. She hadn't wanted to talk about that night. "We both were at fault, Eric. I begged God for forgiveness, and He helped me put it behind me. I hope you can do the same."
He exhaled a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you. That means?—"
"But what did you mean about the notes? You said you never received anything from me? I sent over fifteen letters. Two the first week you left, then one a week after that. Every single one was returned unopened.”
“What? No, that doesn't make sense.”
“Each came with a line scrawled on the outside,Return to sender.Are you saying…” The truth was beginning to break through. “Are you saying you didn't receive them? You didn't write that?"
It hadn't looked exactly like his hand, but close enough. She'd assumed he'd written them hastily, or maybe in a fit of anger.
That had hurt so much more.
He stepped closer. "I never received a single one. I can promise you that on oath.” He breathed heavily, as if he were fighting a battle with an unknown foe. “I wroteto you, Naomi. Over and over. The first time I penned on the train to Washington." He took a step back, gazed away. When he faced her again, he looked a little sheepish. "As soon as I realized I would need to stay several months instead of a few weeks, I sent a telegramandmailed a letter ."
“I never received any telegrams, either.”
Confusion clouded his gaze. "I stopped counting how many letters I sent. There were two more telegrams though. When you wouldn't write me back, I thought maybe I could get your attention that way. You didn’t reply. I hurried back to Wayneston as quick as I could, but you’d disappeared." He glanced around the cabin. "I guess you'd already come here."
Was that a trace of bitterness in his voice?
But then he turned back to her. He held her gaze intently, as if searching for the truth. "You're saying you didn't receiveanyof my letters? Or the wires?"
Dread churned in her middle. How could this have happened? Why hadn't she suspected it? She should have. After…after the terrible thing.
She should have known.
Fool. She’d been a fool.
She shook her head to clear the thought before the memory could destroy anything else.
Eric must have thought her movement was an answer to his question, for he let out a long breath, propping his hands at his waist. "I can't believe it. Is the Postal Service really so unreliable?" He sounded like he didn't expect an answer, but she had to give him one. She couldn't say everything, but at least she could enlighten him here.
She swallowed to bring moisture back to her parched throat. "I think it was Harvey."
His brow pinched. "My cousin? Why?"
She pressed her mouth shut. "He worked for Dyson's, whichhouses both the mail and the telegraph in Wayneston. He would have had access to inbound and outbound mail and telegrams. He must have simply not delivered them."Please believe me. Don't ask more questions.
Eric's frown only deepened. "But why? He has no reason to."
