Silas held his breath, uncertain what more to say to her. He’d broached such subjects before, but she rarely spoke more than a few words before retreating into an uncomfortable silence. Though he supposed Miss Delmonte was right in accusing him of not listening as thoroughly as he ought.
With a few more prompts, Helen slowly expounded on her favorite types of shells—both those amid her collection and those she wished to find—and the best sorts of beaches on which to find them. Silas took note of each thing she shared, storing it away for future use, and prayed his memory would not fail him; it was perhaps the first time he’d wished to jot down notes during a casual conversation. Helen’s sentences trailed off more than a few times and required some prodding before she’d finish, as though she expected him to be bored with the subject before she had even concluded her thought. But little by little, Silas drew her out, nudging and nurturing the conversation.
But Helen’s words broke off suddenly when he pulled the phaeton to the side of the road. “Are we going to the church?”
Turning in his seat, Silas faced his daughter. “I thought it time I visited your mama’s grave. I didn’t wish to do it alone, and I could think of no one else I’d rather have at my side.”
Helen frowned, her gaze darting from him to the graveyard and back. “Me?”
Silas nodded. “I cannot trust the other children to behave themselves, and I knew you were the right person for the job.”
Her eyes brightened, and she nodded, allowing him to help her down from the carriage. A young boy passed by, and Silas tossed him a few coins to watch over the horse and vehicle, handing over the reins, but not before fetching the bouquet he’d hidden beneath the seat bench. Helen’s gaze drifted to the flowers as he handed them to her.
“They’re lovely,” whispered Helen, pressing her nose into the purple and blue blossoms and breathing in their scent.
“Hydrangeas were your mother’s favorite,” he said.
Holding them gently with one hand, Helen took her father’s arm with the other as they walked onto the church grounds, but at the edge of the graveyard, Silas paused.
“I…” Silas cleared his throat and tried again. Helen looked at him, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. “I fear I do not know the way.”
Helen said not a word, merely nudging him along as she walked the path through the graveyard, guiding him along with the certainty of one who had made the trek many times. And the further into the graveyard they went, the more he realized he’d spoken true to Helen; he needed her at his side. His heart sank with each step, and Silas knew would’ve turned tail and fled if left to his own devices, but with Helen at his side, he was able to move forward.
“Hello, Mama,” she whispered, reaching down to place the bouquet next to another fresh arrangement of flowers that Silas wagered were from Ruth.
His chin dipped low, and his shoulders followed suit as he took off his hat and held it in his hands, fiddling with the brim and turning it about as he examined the lettering on the slab of granite.
“Do you visit her often?” he asked as Helen primped the flowers sitting at the base of the headstone.
Helen straightened and rested her hand on the top. “I come every Sunday after church when everyone is talking.”
Drawing her arms around her, Helen’s expression fell, her gaze fixed on her mother’s name. “I like to tell her about everything that is happening. The things I’ve done…” One shoulder rose in a shrug. “It makes me feel better.”
“Would it do the same for me?”
Helen’s gaze darted to him, her brows rising. “You need to feel better?”
Silas shifted his hold on his hat. “We all get sad from time to time.”
Turning his attention to the gravestone, Silas tried to think of what words he wanted to say and what he ought to say. Communicating their thoughts had never been an issue in their marriage, but too often the wrong words were spoken.
His chest constricted, and Silas looked at his hat as he turned it about in his hands. “Deborah, I am sorry for what happened.”
Those words encapsulated so many things. Silas could be standing here until dinner if he listed them all—many of which were not appropriate for her daughter to hear—but Silas gave them a voice in his heart.
His body grew heavy as he considered all that had happened and all that could’ve been. Despite their inauspicious beginning, he’d had so many hopes for their marriage. When those came to naught, it was easier to slough off the blame as the situation had not been of his making, but the truth was Silas and Deborah shared the guilt. Their marriage failed due to their actions within it and not the ones that precipitated it, and Silas couldn’t help but wonder if they might’ve found common ground with a bit more effort and less resentment.
Silas’s thoughts drifted back to Miss Delmonte’s comments about Ruth. He’d been blind to his sister-in-law’s pain, yet now, he couldn’t help but see the signs and wonder how much of Ruth’s shrewishness was a reaction to his poor behavior.
“I hope you are happy,” he whispered, his heart lightening a touch when he realized the truth of those words. No matter their past differences, Silas prayed Deborah had found Thomas in The Great Beyond that they might enjoy their eternal rest together. He wished her peace and comfort in knowing her children were safe and loved. And he begged her to forgive the stubborn fool who had married her and broken his vows to love and cherish her.
“Did you love Mama?”
Silas turned to find Helen standing at his side, her gaze fixed on him. Her eyes burned with hope, begging him to give the answer she longed to hear. Crouching in front of her, he set his hat on the ground and took her hands in his. The answer was so very complicated and far too nuanced for her to understand, but there was a truth he could share. It flickered in his heart, growing in intensity as he held Helen’s gaze.
“I loved your mama dearly because she gave me you.” He lifted a hand and brushed that special spot on her chin as his smile grew.
Speaking those words gave them more life, and they burned through him, filling him with the peace and contentment of knowing they were true. Whatever else had happened, Silas Byrnes could never regret his marriage; without Deborah, he would not have Felix, Helen, Griffith, and Leah. Deborah had been a good mother to them, and for that, she would always have a piece of his heart. It may be born of gratitude, but it was a love of sorts.
