…
I tried to listen to the music, but Wycliff, my Wycliff, was in danger.
If he thought I’d sit still and wait like some good little woman for him, he’d lost his head.
Volcanoes didn’t wait, they exploded.
I slipped on my spectacles and bounced to the curtains. Maybe I could hear something. Maybe I could help.
My mind kept flashing to Adam. How he’d fought for me. If these were the men who had killed Adam, they wouldn’t stop with a meeting in the theater.
If I heard their voices, I could warn Wycliff. I’d been there. I knew their evil.
I pulled Papa’s knife out of my reticule. My fingers gripped the mother-of-pearl handle and tugged the blade out.
I touched the curtains then stopped. My stomach twisted in upon me. I didn’t hear footfalls anymore. It was now or dwell upon what I should’ve done. I couldn’t live like that again.
With a quick breath, a short prayer, and a raised weapon, I opened the curtain and froze.
Wycliff stood there, shaking his head. “Ruthy?”
He marched inside, and I backed up.
“You agreed too easily. You’re never easy about anything like this.” He slid the knife from my fingers. “I see you meant business.”
“You’re meeting with one of the men who killed Adam. I heard his voice. I was there. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Putting my knife in his pocket, he bit his lip. “Ruth, I can’t do what has to be done and think you are going to be rash.”
In my head, I argued, sayingI want to help, I’m not rash, I want to share his burdens, but I knew none of that would change what he had to do. “What if I say I’ll marry—”
He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me.
It wasn’t soft or easy.
This was wild and hungry.
His hands were everywhere, pinning me to him, spinning me.
I tossed my arms about him, held on to him. He was big and bold and everything my younger heart had wanted.
But I wasn’t young.
I backed away, but he followed, all the way to my chair, still holding me, still kissing me. Melting into the seat, I found my bones had disappeared.
He sank with me, to his knees.
The kiss never broke, never stopped, never let up with its consuming flames. I wanted this. I wanted to be scorched.
I wasn’t afraid, yet I trembled. I was lost but found my way in his arms.
Music surrounded us.
The tempo became my pulse. The beating in my ears was one, almost two hearts.
Almost.
For a new heart to exist in me, it had to know it would live. I had to know Wycliff would.
