Back then, Maxey had the perfect words to tell her mother if the chance ever presented itself. Now the woman stood before her, and Maxey drew a blank. Shock held her tongue prisoner.
Scrunching the blankets with tight fingers, she kept her gaze on the woman who proclaimed to be her mother—a title she didn’t deserve now.
Maxey cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak. “How do you know I’m your daughter?”
“Over the years, I have hired detectives to search you out and inform me of my family. Then, not too long ago, I decided to see you for myself—to finally talk to you. That is how I knew when you and Mr. Burke were going to sail to Devonshire. I overheard Nash’s name at the ticket booth.”
Maxey swallowed the lump of emotion caught in her throat. “Then it’s very unfortunate that you had so many hours of labor with me. Could that be when you decided you were not fit to be my mother? Or did that time come before I was born, when you gave birth to Thomas?”
Nora Littleton brought her hand to her mouth and covered the gasp that sprang forward.
“You…misunderstood. That’s not—”
“Please don’t.” Maxey held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” A sob rose to her throat, but she willed it away, refusing to show any outward emotion. “I recall the day you left. I remember it as if it was yesterday. I remember every tear, every heartache, and every sleepless night. Those terrible memories will be implanted in my mind forever, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”
Nora shook her head as tears streamed down her face. “Please allow me to explain.”
“No. You will be wasting your breath. Besides, I don’t have the patience right now to hear it.” Maxey flipped her hand in the air. “I would like you to leave. Now.”
Her mother remained standing and staring for a few moments longer. Sorrow filled Maxey for the obvious grief her mother experienced right now, but it didn’t come close to the grief their family had suffered.
Finally, Nora spun around and walked out the door. Maxey’s chest tightened. It wasn’t until Nash stepped inside that she released her pent-up sobs.
He rushed to her side and took her in his arms. “Maxey? What is wrong? Who was that lady and why did she leave crying?”
“Oh, Nash.” She buried her face in his neck, clinging to his silk shirt. “You won’t believe it. I still can’t.”
“Tell me,” he said as he stroked her hair.
“She…she is…my mother.”
He hitched a breath and pulled back, meeting her stare. “Your mother?”
“Yes. After all these years.” She sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “She was watching me, even before we boarded the ship. She knew I was her daughter.”
“Did she tell you why she left her family?”
Maxey shook her head. “I don’t want to know, Nash. It won’t change a thing, anyway. She has been dead to me for years.”
He gathered her in his arms once more and rocked her gently. Her heart swelled with love for this man. She wondered if she should allow these feelings for him at all, especially when he didn’t return them. Was she just setting herself up for more heartache?
She pulled away and swiped the moisture from her cheeks. “Forgive me, Nash. I shouldn’t have broken down like that. I suppose the shock of seeing her was just too great for me to bear.” She held her breath before the tears returned.
Nash cupped her chin. “You do not need to apologize. I understand perfectly. Thank you for being open with me and letting me share in your grief.”
She shook her head. “It’s just that I have been a burden to you of late, and I don’t want you to take that responsibility any longer.”
“It is my own fault, my sweet Maxey. I should not have brought you with me.”
She shrugged. “It’s too late to look back. We have to move forward with no regrets.”
“But I should not have brought you.” He dropped his hand. “Because of my own selfishness, you could have died. Twice.”
Anticipation bloomed in her chest, yet she dared not become too excited and read too much into his words. Could Mrs. Summers have been telling her the truth? Could Nash really love Maxey? She dared not hope for fear she would be crushed again.
“Actually,” she said, “it has been three times.”
“Three times? When was the third?”
