He sank fully to the floor. “I think . . . I know I hurt your mother’s feelings.”
Hope crawled onto his lap. “Not good. Fix.”
She said it with her soft, sweet voice as if that was something easy to do, repair a disappointed heart. How did he admit to having a hand in Jemina’s sorrows?
A chill sliced through him as he looked into Hope’s eyes. He had no legal claim to her other than what he’d engineered. His marriage to Jemina had righted it.
Daniel hugged Hope so tightly. He was her papa no matter what. He kissed her brow. “I need to tell Jemina something very important. You and Max stay here. Look very cute, so she’ll be more understanding.”
She hugged the pug’s neck and giggled as if Father Christmas had left her a small gift.
Yet, this was a gift, her true mother restored, and by a miracle they were all together.
Daniel stood and stalled, then stepped slowly to their adjoining door. He knocked and called for her.
No response.
“Jemina?”
A few more light taps yielded no answer.
“Darling, I know you’re spent, but Hope and I have something to say.”
Nothing.
Perhaps she bore embarrassment. It was unusual finding joy in a closet, but it seemed so right, so completely surprising, so them.
“Jemina?”
No sounds came from the room.
Not even sobbing.
Fear worked its way into his gut, twisting and squeezing as he beat upon the door, harder and harder.
“Jemina. Jemina, please. Let me see your face.”
No more waiting. Daniel put his shoulder to the door and rammed it. Finchely was a strong old house. It flexed but didn’t budge.
“Woman, I need to see you now. I’ll break the door down if you don’t answer me. Jemina?”
He took six steps back, then rammed the door, crashing onto her bed.
The mattress sat cold and empty.
The room was vacant.
No wife, no petulant, stubborn, wonderful, beautiful temptress anywhere. Her closet was too small for her to be sitting in there.
Max ran in and barked at the window.
Jemina’s rope and the hook dangled from the sill, the hook that the Widow’s Grace used to scale buildings.
Hope toddled inside and clung to the hem of his robe. “Mama’s gone.”
Daniel doubted she was under the bed. Yet, he bent and peeked. No dust, no Jemina. Then he tore the closet door off its hinges.
“No more mama! She went away again.” Hope began to cry.
