“Ruth, you told me many things when your papa brought you back from the brothel. Then you healed up and said nothing. I did think you lied. I sent you away to have the baby, but I’m guilty of so much wrong.”
“Mama, please don’t repeat what I said.”
“For you to be married, then all the rest is true. All of it.”
My eyes leaked. They were wet and sticky.
“Baby, it’s one thing to give away your sugar in the throes of young love. It’s another to sell it of your own free will. It’s a horror, a terrible, terrible thing, for the sugar to be taken. That’s what happened to you.”
Mama wasn’t talking about baking or sweets but soul ties and abuse.
She remembered what I’d said had happened when Adam had died. His killers had had at me.
I’d been told to sit back and take it. Then my family told me to forget.
My mother held me in her arms. She cried. We were both hot, sticky knitters.
“Ruth. Ruth, baby. You need to tell Wycliff. He needs to know.”
“I need proof. I’ll tell him when I have proof.”
Mama held me tighter. “You need nothing, no proof when a man loves you. None, when you believe in yourself.”
“How is that? You didn’t believe me. Madame Talease can verify my truth.”
“You’ve been tried, Ruth. You’ve kept living. You’ve raised a beautiful son. You didn’t give over anything to despair, especially not your baby.”
“Chris is all mine. He’s none of them.”
“Memories have power. I had to tell your father what happened to me, what happened in my home, by my own father.”
I squinted and saw the heavy tears in Mama’s eyes. I didn’t want her to see me as weak. I didn’t want that legacy.
But then I looked at Mama, really looked at her. I saw a survivor’s face. I saw the beauty that had come through the fire. I wanted to be Mama—to have her strength, her grace.
“Ruth, I’m four years late in comforting you, of telling you it wasn’t your fault, that you are lucky you lived.”
Four years too late, but better late than never believed.
“Tell Wycliff. He wants all of you, the good and the bad. There’s heat in the air about you two.” She put my hand in hers. “Tell him, so he can be sweet to you. Then he’ll be gentle. He’ll understand. Your father understood. My attacker was my own father. At least you don’t have to recover from that.”
No, it was Adam’s cousin. He’d led them in it. Someone who Adam had once trusted.
I was an all-or-nothing person. If I faced the truth, I needed all of it. I’d written to Madame Talease yesterday. I needed her to answer soon.
She was the proof I needed for Wycliff.
Mama and I poured new cups of tea. “What if he can’t look at me? What if I can’t make myself please him? What if he can’t please me because I see the others and not him?”
“Not every man or every mother can be strong. But you are gold, pure gold. You deserve gold. We’re not soft when it comes to our worth. We’re strong. Uncage your spirit. Be wild, my wild child. Be free. Then accept Wycliff’s love, if he is for you. Or toss him away. Know your worth. You’re gold.”
I believed Mama, but my head was stuck on proving my truth. I sipped my tea, taking my time, enjoying the citrus taste of the chamomile. “I’m glad you didn’t have the knitters here today.”
“The ladies?” Mama laughed. “My friends, they are vipers. I set them on you these past two years to toughen you, for you to regain your fire. You didn’t get it back until Wycliff. I think that means something.”
“A man did it, Mama. Is that your answer? Is it an extra benefit that he’s a peer?”
“A respected barrister or baron, both are worthy of you. But I like Wycliff. He made my child remember to live. Whatever you choose, your place is here, if you want it.”
