Matches lit.
The smell of sulfur filled the air.
Then I saw everything at once like the world slowed to a crawl.
A ring of light—women of all faces and races stood shoulder to shoulder around the room.
A man down—my husband lay at my feet with a smashed vase near his head.
A chest moving slow, but moving—Felton was alive.
Enna, my friend, my nephew’s nurse, sat on the sofa but her empty hands were folded in prayer.
“Where’s Noah? Enna, speak to me.”
“Chari. Chari, calm down.”
A treasured voice—the perfect alto pitch recalled memories of years gone by, of silly sisters running along the shore.
My face became the flooding Demerari River. I ran to the woman, coming out of the shadows. She rocked my . . . our Noah in her arms.
I hugged my family, my blood family, my sister Patience. I held her with all my strength.
CHAPTER39
CECILIA—WEAREFAMILY
Enna slipped from the sofa and took my nephew from Patience.
Then I gave my lost sister a bigger hug. “How are you alive? You’ve been gone so long.”
The tall woman tucked me under her arm, and I held her about her expanding waist. “Oh, Chari, my sister. It’s a long story, but Colin Jordan, the man I married, was misguided. He hid my letters that I sent to you. Only Jove knows what he did to the ones sent by him for you and Papa.”
My sister was alive. Her beautiful face—brown from the sunshine and round from the miracle of a child. She and Noah and Enna were my miracles.
Patience waved her hands. “Ladies, let’s put the marquess onto the sofa.”
“No. He might awaken.” A mousy-looking woman with reddish-brown hair came to my sister’s side. “I don’t think I hit him hard enough with the vase that he forgets his memories. You think he saw us and will tell?”
“Jemina, I’ll take the blame. No one can be mad at a pregnant lady.”
“Sister. Who are all these people? What’s going on?”
“Cecilia,” she said. “These are members of the Widow’s Grace. These women and I help widows across Britain to reclaim their lives.”
The ladies—Roman soldiers they weren’t, but in a way, with their protective stance of locked arms about my fallen Felton, each could be a jaguarete.
With one final squeeze, I let my sister go and went to my poor husband. Stooping to him, I felt the heat of his skin and the hot breath fleeing his nose. He’d be alright.
“How did you find me, Patience? And I’m not quite a widow, unless your friend intends to do more to harm Lord Gantry.”
The woman, the mousy lady I saw with Felton yesterday, stepped forward. “We make exceptions for Her Grace. Your sister is one of the dearest people, and you’ve been missing from her heart far too long. I’m sorry for hitting your husband, but I couldn’t tell it was Gantry I hit. He’s a friend too and has been looking for you everywhere.”
“So, he has many lady friends?”
“Cecilia, it is not like that.” Patience sat on my sofa and turned her wet face to Enna, who was still making signs of the cross.
Enna rocked Noah, then fed the wiggly fellow when he started to cry.
