He gave her a brief turn up of his lips. “I didn’t care. I’d inherited some money from my great- aunt, my great-uncle Ned’s wife—more than enough to live on. At that point, I still thought Mary Beth would come around. That once she recovered from the shock, she’d support my stance—that she’d be willing to give up a luxurious life for a comfortable one with her own child.”
Ivy knew what was coming next. “She agreed with the rest of the family.”
“Her mother emerged from the bedroom and said that Mary Beth didn’t want to see the baby, and that if I kept her, she’d divorce me. They all stared at me, obviously expecting me to choose wife and wealth over my daughter.”
If the tale hadn’t been so painful, Ivy would have cheered. “You were so courageous to choose Jewel.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t feel courageous. Everyone thought I was crazy. I moved out. Rented a place nearby. Paid the nurse to watch the baby and teach me how to take care of her. I couldn’t believe Mary Beth would forsake our daughter. Istillbelieved she loved me and she’d change her mind.” He shook his head.
“Never?”
“No onecame around, not even my friends or extended family. Jewel and I became pariahs.”
Ivy inhaled a sharp breath. “How did you end up in Sweetwater Springs?”
“I finally had a visit…from Great-uncle Ned. He’d always had a soft spot for me. He’d had a wayward son, Samuel, who died inthe way reprobates often do. Apparently, I looked like Sam, his last living child, so Ned and Ruth, when she was alive, always took an interest in me, seeming to receive satisfaction in my lack of wayward tendencies.”
“Until Jewel’s birth, when you more than made up for your previous lack ofwayward tendencies.”
This time, Torin’s smile looked more real. “Ned joined the family in disapproving of my choice to keep Jewel. But mostly because he thought I was setting myself up for great heartache when she died. He wanted to help. He advised me to leave the city, saying that my parents wouldn’t change their minds, at least not for a long while. He thought that living close by and being shunned would only cause me pain. He gave me the money to move and buy a place. Made me his heir when he died.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“The best.”
“But to answer your question, I went to school in Cambridge with Joshua Norton.”
“The minister?”
He nodded, his gaze distant over the water. “My family was friends with the Maynards. Joshua’s first wife was Esther Maynard. I remembered the stories he told of Sweetwater Springs. A remote place, no people to judge us. The location sounded perfect. I wrote to his father, the elder Reverend Norton, under an assumed name, asking if he could put me in touch with anyone wanting to sell a isolated property that included a house and was located within an hour or so’s ride from town.”
“Were Brian and Hank here then?”
“Barely. Both had built their homes but were still living rather rough. I had no intention of seeking them out.” He smiled. “But they sought me out.”
“Even Brian?” She’d heard enough stories about the man’s curmudgeonly, reclusive nature before he ran afoul of Cora.
“I believe Hank strong-armed him.”
The image made Ivy burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. They fell in love with Jewel and became your best friends.”
“They fell in love with Jewel and became mybrothers.” He managed a smile. “Good thing, too. They’ve always kept our secret. Gone to town for supplies. I couldn’t have done this kind of life without them.”
“Family.”
“I built a life.” He let out a slow breath. “Such as it is.”
“Such as it is,” Ivy echoed softly. She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze on the sleeping child. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry.
He appreciated that—he couldn't have borne her tears just then. They would have cracked the dam he'd spent twelve years constructing, and he wasn't sure he'd survive the flood.
Instead, she said, “You chose love. That was brave.”
“It didn’t feel brave.” He shook his head. “Claiming Jewel and raising her felt like the only thing I could do. The only thing that wouldn't make me a monster.”
“That’s what bravery often feels like, I think. Not always a grand, heroic choice, but the small, obvious one—the one that seems so clear you can't imagine choosing differently. But most peopledochoose differently, Torin. Most people take the easier path.”
He looked at his sleeping daughter, her face soft and untroubled in the afternoon light, one hand curled around her felt letter, the other resting on the cat who purred against her side.
