Page 6 of Alive (Shadows of a Forgotten Past #2)

CHAPTER 6

~ NEARNESS ~

At dawn, Alex drove Clarence to London to join the army. Zaira wore a mask of calm for his sake, but the moment he left, she broke into uncontrollable sobbing. I understood her anguish—it felt as though a piece of her soul had been torn away, knowing that she might never reclaim it. Words felt hollow, incapable of offering solace, so I simply held her, letting her cry until the tears ceased. I then gave her a sleeping draught and watched her until she drifted into rest.

It wouldn’t be long now, before I, like Zaira, walked the road of hope and prayer, wishing for our loved one’s safe return. Love—a dreadfully wonderful thing.

I wandered outside, idly tracing the grounds until I reached what had once been Mrs. Allerton’s garden. She had cultivated the rarest flowers in the area, favoring rhododendrons and azaleas. Now, unfamiliar plants took their place. This was also the spot where Margaret Sterling once dreamed of Alex and me having a baby. Poor Margaret—she died without a grandchild, thanks to Mrs. White .

I sank onto a bench and tilted my head upward, enjoying the soothing sunlight.

“It’s a pleasant day, isn’t it?”

“Commander Haywood, hello.” I squinted, refocusing. “How are you today?”

“Better than the girl with the hazel eyes—Zaira, right?”

“Yes. She’s dispirited, I’m afraid, but she’ll pull through.”

“Will she?”

“She’s one of the toughest women I know. Besides, I trust that time will ease her pain until Clarence comes home.”

Will pointed to the bench. “May I?”

“Please do.”

He sat down, his long legs stretched out before him. “If you ask me, time can be a loyal friend or a fierce enemy. It’s treacherous. One cannot count on it.”

I found his remark intriguing. “Care to explain?”

“Ah, it’s a sad story—not sure you need more of that today.”

“Trust me. I can handle it.”

“If you insist.” His gaze lifted to the sky and lingered there as he spoke. “When I was studying in Cranwell, I met the perfect girl.”

I should have guessed. Only a matter of love could bring a man to question time as he did.

“Adeline was a secretary in the Air Force office.”

Was ?

“Truly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, with long, pale-blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes. No matter where she was, believe me, she lit up the place with her smile. Obviously, I fell madly in love, so I proposed. She accepted. Then, life happened. It separated us. We planned to marry as soon as I graduated, but out of the blue, Adeline developed a temperature off the charts and became incoherent. All that could be done was done, but it wasn’t enough. I lost her to influenza.” He paused, his voice heavy with unspoken grief. “She took half my heart with her. The truth is that I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again.”

“I’m so sorry, Commander.” I felt his pain as if it were my own. “So sorry.”

“Just Will, please.”

“Will.”

“Well, there you have it.” He exhaled softly. “I’m not fond of time because it hasn’t helped me much. I’ll always miss not being whole.”

“Perhaps not enough time has passed?” I offered, though I knew from Alex’s and my own grief that some wounds never fully healed.

“Perhaps,” he said, unconvinced. “I do keep busy with hard work, though—always moving, always engaged. It distracts the mind from overthinking.”

“You are wise for your age.”

“You speak as if I were much younger than you . . . I’m not sure that’s the case.” He chuckled. “I’d bet ten pounds you are younger than I am.”

“I’m afraid to disappoint you, but I don’t gamble,” I replied with a smile. Discussing my age was out of the question. Besides, I would lose the bet. “Anyhow, judging by your experiences, I think you and Zaira could be good friends. She’s missing half her heart as well.”

“For her sake, let’s hope the chap makes it through the war alive.”

“I can’t imagine him not coming home. I keep reminding myself that Zaira is strong, but I would hate to see her face such a loss.”

“And you, Mrs. Sterling? Are you a strong woman?”

His question took me aback, though I suspected he might have Alex’s impending departure in mind—something I did not wish to dwell on. “I like to think that I am.”

“Do you like being here in England?”

“More than I can ever tell you.”

“I like your American accent. It’s not as thick as other foreigners’.”

“Thank you.” It may have something to do with me not being a foreigner. Thinking of my history reminded me of the Haywoods’ connection to Mrs. White. According to Alex, the Haywoods and Mrs. White had been mere acquaintances when she hired them, but I couldn’t help wondering if there was more to the story. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything.” His brown eyes held a golden glow, familiar yet unplaceable. Where had I seen them before?

“What is the relationship between your parents and Deborah White?”

“Deborah White?”

“She was Alex’s housekeeper for the longest time. She moved to New York with him. I met her there.”

“Oh, right.” Awareness dawned on him. “The evil housekeeper, you mean?”

“You’ve definitely heard about her.”

“Just that she tried to poison the general and steal his fortune. Is it true?”

Gossip, it seemed, spread faster than radio waves. “Unfortunately, it is.”

“Well, let me think . . .” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “As far as I know, there is no special connection between them, apart from Mrs. White living in our vicinity for a time. I had forgotten about her until her name appeared on Scotland Yard’s wanted list. They are looking for her and some fellow. I don’t recall his name.”

“Vines. Mr. Vines.”

“Ah, that’s the one.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, fishing for more. “Since your mother recommended Mrs. White for the post, I assumed she knew her well.”

“I don’t think she did. In fact, if it weren’t for the general, I doubt they would have been hired.”

“Alex? What do you mean?”

“If I recall correctly, Mrs. White turned my parents down, claiming they were too old for the job, even though she knew from the village they were well-qualified. They tried to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn’t budge. I suppose she didn’t want to worry about this place all the way from America.”

“I don’t think she ever did. She had bigger problems to worry about over there.” I beamed at my private joke. The unbelievable coincidence of her victim reappearing in her life had been enough to disturb her mind and challenge her conscience.

“Well, as it happened, the general came upon my parents just as Mrs. White was about to dismiss them, and he hired them on the spot. I suppose he either liked them or pitied them.” Will shrugged.

“He most likely saw a powerful couple,” I offered, even when something about the story didn’t sit well. Something that, for now, remained elusive. “And to Mrs. White’s discredit, your parents have done wonders with the place. You should be proud.”

“I am. I want them to retire and, at last, enjoy our farm. The land is finally free of debt. All that’s left is to build up our savings. After the war, I hope to do just that, once I secure a permanent post.”

“You’ll leave the service, then?”

“When the time is right, yes. Who knows? I might even meet someone who also has half a heart needing to be complete. Together, we can make a whole. Start a family. The farm could use a few children.” He smiled.

“You’ll do great, I have no doubt.” My gaze shifted toward the lowering sun. “Oh my, I’ve lost track of time. I should check on Zaira.”

“I’ll walk you back to the house.” Will leaped to his feet and offered his arm. I laced mine through it. “Do you like airplanes, Mrs. Sterling?”

“Planes?”

“Yes, planes.”

“I’ve never given them much thought. Why?”

“Because I love them. Allow me to tell you about them?”

“Go on.”

He launched an extensive explanation. Mrs. Haywood’s words about his infatuation with aircraft hadn’t been an understatement.

It would be a long walk.

* * *

Alex and the staff were abed, the house resting in peaceful slumber. Try as I might to be brave, the moment of his departure ate at me. I couldn’t stop obsessing over his safety. However, if Mrs. White was nearby, my troubles at home might only worsen.

The woman in town—it seemed preposterous now to speculate she could have been Mrs. White. And yet, the image of the pair on the pavement refused to leave me. If it was her, who was the young man? According to Adele, he seemed obsessively protective of her. Why? What bond could forge such an intense closeness? I wished I’d gotten a better look at him, but he had been too far away. The description in my head—strong, tall, dark-haired—was too vague to be of use, matching countless men.

Mrs. White was unpredictable, her cunning impossible to anticipate. The thought strengthened my resolve to protect those I loved. I mentally replayed my conversation with Will, searching for something I might have missed.

She had been acquainted with the Haywoods yet hadn’t favored them for the job. Could their age have been the reason? A nagging feeling told me there was more to it, despite Will saying otherwise. Could the Haywoods be connected to Mrs. White? Distant cousins, perhaps? Could they still be in contact with her? It was possible, though unlikely. Still, if they were connected, they would make an ideal channel for Mrs. White to monitor our lives.

If I couldn’t uncover Mrs. White’s whereabouts yet, I could at least deepen my understanding of the Haywoods. If there was a connection, I needed to know. And there was no better place to start than with Will. Alex was bound to have information about him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I left the library. What exactly I expected to find, I didn’t know, but determination propelled me forward.

I stepped into Alex’s office, my heartbeat thumping in my ears—a warning that what I was about to do, if not criminal, was certainly dishonest. A betrayal of Alex’s trust. Notwithstanding, I couldn’t ask him outright. Not if I wanted to hide my suspicions and spare him needless worry.

Daring not to flip on the main light, I opted for the lamp. Its soft gleam spilled over the desk and illuminated the immediate area. I glanced back at the open door, vacillating. I pictured Alex walking in and reading the guilt on my face. I reconsidered my plan. No use. The spirit of disobedience that had seized me at Oak’s Place took hold once more.

I opened the top drawer of the desk. Nothing but a pile of military documents—useless to me. I pulled open the second and sifted through the layers of personal folders, their private nature intensifying my guilt. Darwin—no. Peterson—no. Beckwith—oh, heavens—no . Wing Commander William Haywood—finally .

I placed the folder on the desk and turned to the first page. It detailed a short but prolific career as a pilot—his missions flown, his abilities, descriptions of aircraft and machinery. Nothing personal. I let out a sigh.

With more patience this time, I circled back to the beginning. It wasn’t long before I noticed a page inconsistent with the rest—a transcript.

“ William Haywood, son of Agnes and Peter Haywood, born on the outskirts of Landford in the New Forest .”

My eyes traced the numbers on the paper, pausing on his birth date. It confirmed he would have won his bet—he was older than I was. Older than my son would have been, had he survived.

My son. I could easily picture him through this stranger. Will had been born in the New Forest, grew up among our people, and now served his country with the same zeal I saw in Alex. All this I already knew, making my search fruitless. Was I letting my emotions cloud my judgment? Was I obsessed with discovering something that might not exist? Struggling with the quandary, I returned the file to its place.

A sound like leaves stirred by a breeze, drew my gaze beyond the office door. It came again. I squinted, peering into the gloom. I made out a human form. How long had they been there? Had they seen what I had done? One thing was certain: it wasn’t Alex. He would have come in.

I turned off the lamp, shadows rushing back to claim the corners. I rounded the desk and hurried out of the office—the spot where the watcher had been now an unsettling void. Had I imagined it? No. Someone had been there. Would they tell Alex about my betrayal? The thought twisted in my gut, cold and sharp.

Silently chastising myself for such foolish behavior, I crept to the staircase. My hand found the railing as I looked away from the dark hallway. One, two steps, and that familiar sensation—the one I’d felt in New York before my awakening—washed over me again: the haunting feeling of being a player in a story without knowing my role.

* * *

Martha intercepted me in the foyer. “Mrs. Sterling, this arrived by the morning post.” She handed me a telegram. “I thought you might like to see it right away.”

Telegrams meant urgent business. Yes, I wanted to see it. “Thank you, Martha.”

“Not at all. Oh, and I almost forgot—Mr. Sterling would like to see you in his office.” She retraced her steps around the stairwell, her black hair bouncing with each hurried stride.

The words Mr. Sterling and office together roiled my stomach. Someday I’d confess my mischievous actions of the night before, but not today. I unfolded the telegram and read:

We are investigating a possible sighting of Deborah White in Salisbury. Take extra precautions. Chief Inspector Overton, Scotland Yard.

A cascade of emotions—anger, frustration, and inevitably, fear—overwhelmed me. Salisbury was less than ten miles away. Martha, in fact, originated from there and often traveled to the city on her days off. The proximity made it all too possible that the woman I’d seen—Mrs. Burrell—was Deborah White.

Should I notify Scotland Yard? Without proof, I risked a false alarm—and if that happened, they might dismiss me when it truly mattered. It was a long drive from London, and the last thing I wanted was to send them on a wild-goose chase. I had to be sure. I’d pay a visit to Mrs. Burrell.

Adding it to my future confessions, I slipped the telegram into my pocket. Alex had been agitated enough about Mrs. White potentially being in London. The idea that she might be even closer would rattle him to the core.

I walked to Alex’s office with unhurried steps, hoping he wouldn’t see right through me.

He was seated at the desk, staring at the papers before him. I moved closer and froze, the guilt pressing heavier on me. He was holding Will’s military file—the one I had read.

“Hmm . . . odd . . . quite odd . . .” he muttered, his brow furrowed.

“What is?” I dared to ask.

“Some of these pages are in the wrong order.”

Alex was meticulous, especially with paperwork, and his observation made me shrink. I had returned the folder too hastily. Biting my bottom lip, I remained silent, lest I say something that gave me away.

“No matter. My mistake.” He smiled, but the disquiet in his eyes betrayed him.

An uncomfortable pause ensued as he restored the pages to their proper order, closed the folder with a snap, and dropped it back into the drawer.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked, relieved the papers were out of sight.

“I wondered if you’d like to go horseback riding.” Alex rose.

“I thought you were too busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, my lady.” He cupped my chin in his hand, and his lips claimed mine with a gentleness that left me wanting more. “Let’s ride down to the stream. What do you say?”

“I’m afraid I may need a bit more convincing.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” The light of passion flared in his eyes, and he backed me against the bookshelves. His body pressed against mine, and with it, his desire. His kisses came desperate and fervent, each stroke of his lips intensified by the love we felt for one another.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Will’s voice sounded from the threshold, forcing us apart. “I was told you were looking for me.”

“Will. Come in.” Alex cleared his throat, smoothing his shirt back into place.

My gaze dropped to the floor, my cheeks burning. The display of affection wasn’t meant for others’ eyes.

Will walked in, hands in his pockets, nonchalantly.

Alex extracted a key from his desk, crossed to the Napoleon side cabinet, and unlocked it. He retrieved a stack of papers and handed them to Will. “Please, take a look at these and let me know what you make of them. The sooner, the better.”

“My pleasure, sir.” With a nod, Will withdrew.

“The sooner, the better?” I echoed once he was gone.

“We don’t have much time. Besides, a little reading will do him good. Keep him out of trouble.”

“ Little reading!” I scoffed. “That pile will take him days to get through.”

“Hopefully, he is a fast reader.” Alex smirked. “About our horseback ride—will you come quietly now?”

“Yes, I’ll come quietly.” I frowned playfully.

* * *

The scent of pine and rain lingered in the forest. Betsy’s hoofbeats against the underbrush, the birdsong, and the hum of insects wove into a soothing melody. I leaned against Alex’s collarbone, watching the patches of sky that peeked through breaks in the towering canopy. So much had changed with time, yet so much—the sky, the cycle of nature, my love for Alex—remained unchanged.

“After all these years, I finally got you to ride on the same horse with me,” Alex remarked, bringing me out of my head. “You have no idea how stunned I was when you refused my offer after Sunny ran away.”

“I wanted to make sure you understood I wasn’t an easy catch.” I smiled at the memory—the blast shook the clearing, sending birds flurrying from the treetops. Sunny bolted, and I tumbled into the stream. Lieutenant Sterling, guilty as charged, had appeared to offer me a ride back. I’d refused unless I could ride his horse while he walked. He’d left me there in the woods to find my way back to the manor alone.

“For the record, I understood it so well that it hurt.” He brushed my hair away and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

Betsy’s ears perked at the murmur of flowing water, and she pushed through the brush line into the clearing. The rain had swelled the stream, causing it to overflow. We dismounted, and Betsy went straight for the water, plunging her muzzle in and snorting playfully.

Alex dropped onto a patch of wild grass, stretching out comfortably. The sunlight caught in his eyes, their intensity as arresting as ever. Everything about him—his bold spirit, his passion—made him irreplaceable. I watched him in quiet awe, grateful for our relationship. Its only flaw was its vulnerability to mortality. It had separated us before, and I dreaded that it could do so again.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“You.” I sat beside him.

“Oh, I like that.” He gave me a crooked smile.

“I’m dreading the moment of your departure.”

My words erased his smile. “As am I, Florence.”

Betsy nudged my legs with her head. “Sorry, girl, I didn’t bring any apples.”

Alex reached for the reins and guided her toward the patch of heath bedstraw behind us. Betsy took the hint. While most horses contented themselves with wild grass, given the choice, she favored flowering plants. He scooted closer to me. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You don’t know that,” I said grimly.

“You are right. I don’t. But I do know this—we have been through heaven and hell, and I’m the luckiest man alive. You’ve given me love and the knowledge that we can be together beyond this life. Now that we stand at another crossroads, whatever happens, it won’t be the end. If something happens to me now or in five or ten years, I need you to be strong and in your right mind. You are young, Florence. You shouldn’t mourn for me for the rest of your life.”

“Says the man who spent two decades grieving my death,” I scoffed.

“True, but you know more than I did then. I wouldn’t want you to be alone. I would . . .” he paused, the words catching in his throat. “I would like you to find someone to spend your days with. Maybe even have a family.”

“Let me get this straight.” I angled toward him. “You want me to have children with another man when you refuse to do the same?”

“If it will make you happy, then yes.” His answer was brutal, but honest. “Promise me you’ll remember this conversation.”

It was déjà vu—the hopelessness of the moment when he left for his mission to France, leaving me at Keyhaven. Except this time, the stakes were higher. Alex was older, more than twenty years removed from active service. Would I lose him? Would I have to pass through the same sorrow he once felt for me?

I looked into his eyes and saw the anguish reflected there. None of this was fair or easy for either of us. Once again, I would try to be strong and let go of my fears, but inside, I knew I would wither.

“You will come back to me.” I clung to his shirt placket with both hands. “Do you hear me, Mr. Sterling?”

“Promise me,” he insisted.

“All right,” I whispered.

Alex gathered me into his arms, my despondency fading with each kiss, with each gentle touch. It faded until, for that moment, it was defeated.