Page 19 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)

CHAPTER 19

~ PICKING UP THE PIECES ~

The blast reverberated through the platform, its echoes fading along the tracks. The acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air as panic gripped the crowd. They scattered like startled birds.

Will collapsed onto the platform.

“Will! Oh, heavens! Will!” I dropped to my knees beside him. “Help! Someone help!” Blood seeped through his shirt.

Mrs. White advanced, her eyes blazing with hate. A scream lodged in my throat as she leveled her gun at me. I wasn’t afraid to die, but terror consumed me at the thought of leaving my son helpless, writhing on the floor.

She pulled the trigger.

The gun failed to fire.

She squeezed again.

Again, it failed to discharge.

She spat a string of vile curses, then glanced past my shoulder, her face turning sickly pale.

I turned and saw Vines sprinting in our direction with Alex close on his heels. It was evident that Vines’s presence was unexpected and unwelcome.

In that moment of distraction, I seized Will’s gun from his holster and rose to my feet. “You’ll burn in hell for the suffering you’ve caused.” Now, I was the one aiming a weapon at her.

“I’ll wait for you there,” she hissed.

“Your wait will have no end.”

“Put the gun down!” a porter yelled, bursting through a nearby door.

“Put it down!” another echoed.

Now they appeared.

Will let out a few agonizing sounds and then fell silent.

How could I simply let justice take its course? After preaching to Alex about keeping a sound mind and letting the law punish her, here I was, about to contradict everything I had said. My mind urged me to let her go, but my heart burned for vengeance. I wanted to see her blood spill, just like my son’s. Rage—dark and destructive—coursed through my veins as I took in her mocking face. I loathed this woman. Life had given me the chance to settle the score, and the temptation was overwhelming.

“Florence, lower the gun!” Alex called out, drawing closer. Vines now secured in his grip. “Lower the gun.”

“Shoot me!” Mrs. White taunted with a deranged laugh. “Shoot me!”

I glanced at my son, then at Alex, torn between fury and restraint.

“Of course you won’t,” Mrs. White sneered. “You’re as weak as the woman you impersonate.”

My finger hovered over the trigger, itching to pull it.

“She’s not worth it. Put it down,” Alex pleaded. “You aren’t a killer. Florence, listen to me. I need you. I love you.”

Alex’s words reached me, grounding me, reminding me who I was. Love rose above the tide of hatred. Hate would fade, but love would endure. No, I wasn’t a cold-blooded murderess, and a lifetime in prison, or hanging for that matter, would suit her better. I lowered the gun, my inner battle won. The most significant battle I had ever fought.

In a flash, one of the porters seized the weapon from my hand. The other stood by Mrs. White. I fell to my knees beside Will, who remained unconscious.

“Will, I’m here. Your father is here.” I kissed his forehead. “Stay with us, my darling. Stay with us.”

“I see you managed to find me,” Mrs. White hissed at Mr. Vines, her venomous tone confirmed the strain in their relationship.

“I see I have found you too late,” he replied, his gaze shifting to Will with a flicker of regret.

“Too late, indeed,” she said, though her meaning was unclear—was she referring to Will or herself?

“Where’s your puppet? You couldn’t afford him any longer?” Mr. Vines sneered. “You should have kept him. He was worth every pound you paid him to watch your back. Without him, you’d have been long dead.”

I knew then. The man I had seen with Mrs. White was her bodyguard, not to protect her from Scotland Yard, but from Vines. I would never have guessed.

“You should have kept your word when we returned to England. You should have stayed with me and away from the Sterlings. But no—you couldn’t let go of your fixation on him, could you?” Vines gestured toward Alex. “Look at him! He has never loved you, and he never will. Can you get that through your thick skull now?”

The rumble of an incoming train filled the station, the ground vibrating beneath our feet. The fear was instant. If the train stopped, Mrs. White could blend into the crowd of disembarking passengers and slither away.

“You are a hopeless fool!” she snarled. “You are the one who couldn’t let go of your fixation on me!”

To my relief, the train didn’t slow down. It was another freight train, barreling through at a devilish speed.

“Are you sure about that?” Vines shouted over the clamor, wrenching himself free from Alex with a sudden jerk. “You have caused enough damage—and enough is enough.” Before anyone could react, he shoved Mrs. White onto the tracks.

Her final scream—haunting and full of terror—pierced the air, the cry of a tormented spirit meeting its fate. I tore my gaze away, unable to bear the sight. Deborah White—the ever-present shadow in my life—was gone, swallowed by the screech of metal on rails.

Gone.

Alex grabbed Vines by the scruff of his neck and slammed him against the wall. He crumpled to the floor like a lifeless doll, his eyes staring blankly at the tracks, where the best and worst in him had finally met. Deep down, I felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Vines, Mrs. White’s lover and accomplice had also been her greatest victim.

His undoing had been loving a woman with a heart of stone—a woman who had dragged him through a life of misery, never cared for him, and used him only to discard him. Yet, he had remained by her side, unfailingly loyal.

He’d stood by when she poisoned her husband, calling it an act of mercy. He’d been there when they first worked at Forti Radici and she caused my accident. He’d taken part in swapping the babies. He’d witnessed my arrival at Oak’s Place and watched in silence as Mrs. White poisoned Alex and tried to rob him of his fortune. He’d fled New York, helping Deborah to escape the police.

And now, here he was again, at this critical junction in my life, ending his life alongside hers. Even if he escaped the gallows for killing her, he would never again know freedom.

“Keep your eyes on him,” Alex ordered one of the porters. To the other, who stood in a trance as he surveyed the carnage on the tracks, he ordered, “Go get help! Now—go!”

Looking ill, the man scrambled inside the station.

“Alex, he is not responding,” I sobbed.

Alex tore the sleeve off his shirt and pressed the fabric to Will’s chest. “Florence . . . the wound . . . is near his heart.”

“In the same spot where you took one for my father,” I cried, then saw the blood on Alex’s shirt. “You are hurt.”

“Vines punched my incision. I’m fine,” Alex replied through gritted teeth while he continued to work on our son. “Come on, Will, hang on. Hang on.”

“Wake up, wake up,” I implored, patting Will’s face. A faint sound from his lips brought a fleeting hope.

“Keep talking to him,” Alex instructed. I did.

Will mumbled something, his voice weak and garbled.

I looked at Alex, but he shook his head. Like me, he was unable to understand.

Will spoke again. This time I understood. “Mum.”

“Mrs. Haywood is not here, but your father and I are by your side,” I sobbed. “Stay with us, please.”

A faint smile crossed his lips, and his eyes rested on me. “No, not Mrs. Haywood,” he said softly. “You, Mrs. Sterling, my mother.”

I couldn’t breathe. He knew . Tears cascaded down my face and onto his chest, mingling with his precious blood. We were together at last. All three of us, a family.

How? I wondered in awe, but before I could ask, Will turned his gaze to Alex’s.

“General—no—Pa. I’ll carry the time we spent together with me. Those days in America were a gift. I loved Oak’s Place, the monastery, and the people I met there. But most of all, I treasure the time I spent learning from you—your unwavering zeal to always do your best.” Will paused, his breath labored. “Pa, Mum, I feel as if we were never apart, as if I had known you my whole life.”

“I’m honored to be your father,” Alex choked out. “You are much better than I could ever be. Now, stay with us. Stay awake.”

“We love you,” I whispered. “We have a lifetime to look forward to, to be together.”

“No, Mum, we have an eternity to be together. I can soar through the sky now, faster than any airplane.” His words came out broken and distant. “Adeline is waiting for me . . . she’s so beautiful.” His gaze seemed to wander beyond this mortal realm. “Mrs. Haywood is there too. I won’t be alone.”

“Mrs. Haywood?” Alex repeated. “He’s delirious.”

“No,” I said. “She must have passed.” A strong impression filled me—something had transpired during Will’s brief unconsciousness. Had Mrs. Haywood finally had the chance to tell him the truth? Even though she hadn’t known I was his mother in mortality—could she had learned it after passing?

“I love you.” Will smiled, the sweetest expression I had ever seen. “Until we meet again.” His eyes closed, and his lungs released the last breath he would ever take.

A groan of agony tore from Alex’s throat. I pressed Will’s hand to my cheek. My son was gone, this time for good. Darkness enveloped me, dragging me into its depths.

“ When the light seems to have gone from your soul, remember the dream. ” Dr. Jones’s words echoed in my mind as clear as if he were standing beside me. With his counsel came the vivid remembrance of the dream—a dream had foreshadowed I would find my son, but also offered consolation for this very moment.

In it, Will had said, “ It’s all right. I’m all right ,” and a profound peace had washed over me then. That same feeling enveloped me now. I breathed a little easier. Will was not just all right. Wherever he was, he was surrounded by love and complete contentment. We would be together again someday. I would hold on to that hope for the rest of my life.

I glanced at Alex, and my heart ached to see him on the brink of collapse. His eyes overflowing with tears, the veins in his neck pulsing erratically. In the days to come, I would share with him the dream and the solace it brought me. But for now, I reached for him, pulling him into an embrace.

We clung to each other with what little strength we had left, seeking comfort in the love that bound us, even as we wept for a beloved child taken too soon.

* * *

Alex and I strolled along the seashore at Keyhaven, the crash of waves blending with the steady pulse of our shared silence. As long as we were together, we could and would endure. There were days filled with hope and days overflowing with heartrending sadness. Nevertheless, we face them all together.

My gaze followed the gentle undulations of the sea, my thoughts adrift in the events of recent weeks.

Mr. Vines’s inquest came and went like a terrifying nightmare, stirring our grief anew. For taking Deborah White’s life, he was sentenced to hang. As for her, the wake of destruction and sorrow she left behind was, at times, unfathomable. I could only hope that with time, her name would fade into obscurity. It didn’t deserve another second of our lives.

Will. My heart ached as sharply as it did the day I lost him. The wound was deep, and I doubted it would heal during this lifetime. Just as I had feared, Mrs. Haywood passed shortly after we left for Bristol. Will had cared deeply for her, and strangely, I found peace in the thought that, in the afterlife, she might mend the rift with her adopted son. I held no bitterness toward her. She loved Will fiercely, and for that, I was grateful. I could relate to her through my feelings for Eldad.

The image of the boy on the rocking horse Will had crafted formed in my mind. It was a bittersweet, constant reminder of what I had lost and gained. At last, I understood the all-encompassing love of a mother—that very affection Mrs. Allerton and Granny had for me. I had seen it in their eyes when I was scared during the long hours of the night. It was there when I hurt, when I cried, when I was frail and sick, and when the world felt like it would crush me. It always was and it always would be.

“You are thinking about Will,” Alex stated.

“Always.”

“Me too.”

“He was so full of life.”

“Wherever he is, he still is.” Alex embraced me, comforting me with his gentle touch. “I’ll be forever be grateful for the time we had with him. No one can ever take away the bonds of love we built together.”

“Eternal bonds,” I whispered, holding him tighter. “I just wish it didn’t hurt this much.”

“I know. But we must move on and help Eldad do the same. He has wounds of his own to heal.”

“Do you think he is all right? I feel terrible leaving him home.”

“He’s likely enjoying every second of being spoiled by Zaira and Clarence.” The pair were the newlyweds in town. After a brief honeymoon, they’d taken the reins at Forti Radici. As a wedding gift, Alex and I presented them with a parcel of land at the southern end of the manor. They had already begun planning their home, which included a large stable to support Clarence’s dream of breeding horses.

“I’m afraid you are right,” I said with a laugh.

“The little rascal has them wrapped around his finger,” Alex added with a chuckle.

“I’m glad they decided to stay with us.”

“It would have been hard to find someone we trust as much as them.”

“Speaking of trust, it was generous of you to help Mr. Haywood retire and settle back on his farm,” I remarked.

“Will would have wanted that. Old Haywood was a good father to him.”

A low rumble drew our gazes to the trees. A military plane soon zoomed over us toward the sea.

“Will adored airplanes,” I said, my eyes following its path as it skimmed the water and disappeared into the setting sun. “ I love you, Mum. I love you .” Whether I heard the words in my head or carried on the breeze, I couldn’t say.

* * *

The cabin stood still, wrapped in the quiet veil of night. Firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Alex spread a blanket before the grate, and we settled into its warmth. He looked serene, at peace with the war, with life, with himself. I wasn’t there yet, so he remained my anchor in the storm.

The fire crackled, sending sparks out of the hearth, and the name popped into my head. “Dorothy.”

“Dorothy who?” Alex asked, tugging off his boots.

“You seriously don’t remember? There is no way you forgot her.”

“That depends on who she is.”

“How about the woman you sent to visit the devil?”

“Ahh.” A smile crossed his eyes. “Poor Frankfort. You must have been very persuasive to get him to spill the details.”

“Just like in the good old days. I batted my eyelashes, and he surrendered.” I lied shamelessly, and he knew it. “No, seriously, Thomas divulged your dating habits of his own free will and choice.”

“You know what, Florence?”

“What, Mr. Sterling?”

“I see you’ve fallen victim to the green-eyed monster. However, my lady, that was long ago.”

“I still want to know what happened.” I batted my eyelashes.

He laughed.

“Go on.”

“Hmm . . . now that I think about it, she wasn’t too hard on the eye.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I playfully punched his chest. He caught my fist before I could strike again.

“It means I’m just poking fun at you. But if you must know, she cornered me in Thomas’s flat—in the kitchen, though she was determined to take me to the bedroom.”

“Why would she want to do that?” I mocked.

“I can show you if you’d like.”

I shook my head, suppressing a smile.

“All right, all right. I’ll start from the beginning.” His tone turned serious. “When I came home from the Great War, I was more lost than when I left. I don’t even know how I accepted Frankfort’s invitation to go out with them. I must’ve been drunk. Dorothy was agreeable at first, but by the end of the evening, she was out of place. Anytime something amused her, she’d touched my hand, my arm, any part of me she could get ahold of to emphasize her excitement. I felt like a caged, extremely irritated animal.

“Once we were alone, she forced herself on me. I rejected her. She asked if I was afraid of her. I told her I wasn’t. She said she didn’t believe me and suggested she would spend the night so I could prove her wrong. That’s when I told her to go to the devil.”

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her—a beautiful woman, I imagined, helplessly falling for the handsome, wealthy widower. Who could resist that?

“I have to ask. Why? Any other man, especially a recent arrival from the war, would have been eager to set the record straight.”

“Like I told you decades ago when Arianna corralled me, I don’t like women who do the chasing. Besides, I was dealing with the war trauma and was quite bitter about your death. It was too much too soon.”

“Did you ever see her again?” I ventured.

“No.” He angled his body toward me and held my gaze with an intensity that warmed me more than the fire. “You know, you are the only woman I have ever truly loved.”

“And you are the only man I have ever truly loved.”

“And how do you love me, Miss Contini?” He leaned in, his lips brushing my cheek.

“Let’s just say you own my soul,” I whispered. “You always have and always will. Past, present, and future—always. How do you love me, Mr. Sterling?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” he murmured, his voice soft, sending a shiver through me.

“I do.”

“Let’s just say—your smile, your tears, your kisses, your scent, your touch—every part of you is embedded in my very bones. Without you, I am nothing.” His lips found mine. “Is that enough?”

“It’s more than enough, Mr. Sterling, more than enough.”