Chapter 19
Leonie’s pronouncement gained her Lawrence’s attention. He led her inside the cool, dry darkness of the church. There was a silence here, as if no confession spoken would leave these walls.
They sat in the last row of chairs.
“What is troubling you, Leonie?”
She told him her story. She didn’t spare details. She was done keeping secrets. Roman did know most of the story, but to Lawrence she could confess the heady feeling of playing on the two men’s jealousies.
“I led both to believe they were important to me,” she admitted.
If Lawrence was shocked, he gave no indication. Instead, he listened intently. He didn’t even flinch when she tearfully told him about the rape, about how brutal Arthur had been.
“I had told him that I had changed my mind about running away with him. I hadn’t really thought we were going to do it. I was foolish. He told me he couldn’t let me go. He said I must marry him now and, when I refused, he threatened me with his pistol.” She had to draw a deep steadying breath before she could continue. “I let him do what he wanted. He would have killed me. He hit me. He choked me. When he was done, he didn’t relax. He wanted more and that is when my hand found the pistol.” She looked to Lawrence, begging him to understand. “I shot before I realized what I was doing—and then, Roman came in the door and I let him take charge. He took me home.”
“He also claimed he was the one who killed this Arthur?”
Leonie nodded. “We’ve discussed it. Roman says it is not my worry. And yet, it is. I wish that night had never happened and it is all my fault. What must I do? For so long, people have thought Roman was guilty for Arthur’s death.”
“I believe he has made peace with that. My brother-in-law would not have married you even for money if he believed you are a murderess. I’m certain of that fact.”
“I don’t know. He was very anxious for my dowry.” She picked at her skirt a moment and then said, “He tells me he loves me.”
“Then believe him.”
“That is the hard task. I made such a mistake...”
Lawrence leaned forward. “Leonie, the hard task is forgiving yourself.”
He was right.
“Roman has,” Lawrence pointed out. “He has brought you into the family. He cares deeply for you.”
She nodded. “He is afraid of me though.”
“No, he has concerns about your need for strong spirits. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Then what does it make me?”
“Human.” Lawrence took her hand. “You can’t change the past. All of us have done something that haunts us. You are responsible for your decisions that night, but not for this Arthur’s. He sounds as if he received what he deserved, and I don’t know if the courts would have given you justice. But I shall tell you something I have learned over my years as being a man of the cloth—none of us have the right of it. We are all doing the best we can and we have failings. But we also have choices. You can continue to carry this burden or you can start putting your attention on what truly matters to you.”
Leonie nodded, although she didn’t know if she could leave her regret behind. It was, she discovered, a powerful part of her life. They then prayed and she thanked Lawrence and went home.
Yes,home—Bonhomie had become very dear to her, even with its crumbled wall that was quickly being rebuilt.
Roman didn’t know that she had been gone. He’d spent his day at the mill. He was very pleased with the repairs.
“Briggs says we shall test the grindstone in a few days.”
“That is good news,” Leonie said, meaning the words.
Cook had prepared venison for their dinner. Leonie barely tasted it. Her mind was on Lawrence’s advice.
“We’ll be grinding for every family in the parish and the next one over,” Roman predicted, but then he stopped speaking.
At the silence, Leonie looked up to find him staring at her. “Is something the matter?” she said.
“I was going to ask you that question. You seem preoccupied.”
