Nate tugged uncomfortably at the hem of his jacket while Ruthann’s face was as red as a late-summer tomato.
“Stuart, hello,” she said, her soft voice a bit strangled. “I’m afraid I must get back to the washing.”
And with that, she disappeared from the studio, leaving Nate to contend with his friend alone. As he should, considering he was the one who had promised Stuart he’d keep a friendly distance between himself and Ruthann.
Stuart looked at him with a confused expression, as if he hadn’t seen anything Nate had done. And perhaps he hadn’t. He had, after all, asked if there were customers present.
“Is everything all right?” Stuart finally asked. “Ruthann left so quickly. Did you argue?”
Nate drew in a breath, thanking God that Stuart suspected the utter opposite of what had actually happened. “Oh, no. We were simply . . . rearranging the studio.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. They had, after all, been straightening what the Robinson children had rearranged on their own.
“Ah. Well, it looks nice.” Stuart gave the settee a quick, uninterested glance. He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Miss Flagler lately?”
Nate shook his head. “She came by shortly after we married, but not since then.”
“Well, it appears she’s taken up with someone new. No one seems to know the man, but she’s been seen more than once in public with him.”
Never had any news sounded like such music to Nate’s ears. “That sounds promising.”
Stuart nodded. “So it seems. You may not have to remain married much longer.”
Nate forced his expression to remain neutral. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To annul this marriage as soon as possible? To set Ruthann free to find a real union?
But if that was so, why did the reminder sit so poorly with him?
“I need to get back to work, as I’m sure you do too,” Stuart said.
“Indeed.” It was all Nate could seem to say.
As he bid goodbye to Stuart, he reminded himself that his friend had no reason to suspect Nate’s true feelings. Which was for the best.
And yet it felt sowrong.
All those years he’d yearned to see Ruthann again, she’d felt the same way about him. How had he never guessed?
Because she’s too good for you, that voice in the back of his mind reminded him as he crossed the studio to retrieve the plate from his camera.
It was true. She’d always been too good for him. She came from a respected family, not wealthy, but comfortable. And then there was him—growing up in what amounted to a shack, clean thanks to his mother who’d wanted so much more for them, but still poor. If only he’d known then how truly rich he was with a loving mother and his own, true self intact.
He’d lost himself since then, and if it was possible, he deserved Ruthann even less now than he did six years ago.
Yet it didn’t seem to matter to her. She didn’t complain when the memories forced him to close himself away, to withdraw to the quiet, to be alone while his mind tried to settle. He wasn’t at all the man he used to be, and Ruthann seemed untroubled by that. In fact, she appeared to be entirely understanding.
Of course, she didn’t know everything. And he would never tell her. Some horrors ought to be forgotten forever.
But he was slowly rebuilding a life here. And if he could do that, perhaps he could also rebuild himself as a person, push those old memories away for good. Maybe he could become the man Ruthann deserved.
The thought made him smile as he entered the darkroom.
What would it be like to be married to Ruthann—truly married—forever?
