Page 65 of The Austen Escape
“Mary! What happened?... Wait.” Grant sprinted across the log to get to my side of the stream. Without pausing he waded in and pulled me up and out.
Grant. Military. Captain Wentworth.Persuasion.
“I thought you went for a walk.” I felt my teeth chatter. “I was just thinking I needed one of you.”
He stood me on the ground and pulled the drenched shawl away. “One of me?”
“A Captain Wentworth to pull me out. Thank you.”
Grant chuckled. “Right.”
“I was trying to cross.” I pointed to the hill. “I thought I’d get a good view up there.”
“You would, and when you’re warm and dry, there’s a bridge about a quarter mile that way.” He pointed farther downstream.
“I’ll remember that.”
He stepped close and rubbed my arms with both hands. We stood inches apart. There was something formal, strong, and almost sad about Grant. I hadn’t gotten a good look previously oreven had a good conversation. He and Isabel were always off and away. I’d heard she’d helped him check the fence line, feed the horses, even helped his father select plantings for spring.
He caught my stare, and a slow smile crept across his face, dispelling the sadness. He dropped his hands and patted at his sides, and his eyes widened as if surprised by something. “I took off my coat at the stables... I’m sorry. I don’t have it to give to you.”
“I retract my comment.” I meant it as a joke, but my chattering teeth made him grimace rather than laugh. “I thought you were walking with Isabel and Nathan.”
“I left them. I needed to get something done.” Grant looked down the path as if figuring out the fastest way to get me back and dry, and yet he didn’t take a step. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You and Isabel are best friends. You know her better than anyone.”
Thinking back on the past six months and Nathan, I almost laughed. “Yes.”
“I wanted to talk to you, to ask you...” He watched the water before shifting his gaze back to me. Then he nodded, crisp and decisive, the way I’d expect a soldier to do once a decision had been made. “My wife left me during my last deployment. The separation proved too hard for her; she said she wasn’t cut out to be a soldier’s wife and that no one could be expected to endure that fear. She had an affair, filed for divorce, and cleared out before I got home. I know she had her own issues, but—” He stopped abruptly and gripped the back of his neck.
“You’re falling in love with Isabel.”
“I don’t even know her,” he scoffed. It didn’t fool either of us. “I don’t want... I don’t—”
“Want to get hurt again.” It was my turn to shift my gaze tothe water. “Believe me, I understand. And I don’t blame you. Fear can make us do stupid things.” I glanced to him. “I’ve got my own experience in losing someone you love, even letting them go first. It all hurts.”
“Every day.” His nail beds whitened with the pressure at his neck, then reddened with the release.
Twenty years had taught me that Isabel’s pragmatism, almost disdain for love, was a cover. She wore boyfriends like fashions; they changed with the seasons and she attached a certain pride to that. She was shy to show what she really felt. She needed safety. In many ways, I’d done the same.
Yet with Grant, I’d seen more. I’d never seen her so in love, so free. So true to herself. Maybe that’s where she went in these episodes. Maybe she, too, became her best self. I looked down at my sopping purple dress. It clung to my legs. Perhaps Isabel and I were more alike than I thought.
Grant’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I should be talking to Isabel. Believe me, I would... I will... but...”
“No one can talk to her right now, not really.”
He nodded. “Who is she, Mary? Who is the true Isabel?”
Oddly, it was Missy Reneker, not Isabel, who materialized in my memory. I could feel her hands push me off the lunch bench and the sticky linoleum beneath me as I landed.
Then came Isabel... I felt her strength, and even greater determination, as she held her breath to haul me up. I recalled the notebooks full of lists she carried around as she helped my dad plan every birthday party and even the rehearsal dinners for my brothers’ weddings. I thought of her dad and the question she asked every Friday night, until we both knew it so well it no longerneeded articulation:If he’s coming home, he’ll be here by six o’clock. If not, can I spend the night?
“I’m not speaking for Isabel. I have no idea what she feels, but I can tell you who she is.”
“Okay.” He drew the word out in invitation to continue.
“She is the bright, fun, and whimsical woman you see now—that’s her without armor. In many ways, you have met the truest Isabel there is. Isabel with armor up can hide all that really well. But if she loves you, maybe it’ll come down. She is loyal, fierce, and she can endure. She’s tough. If you live for her, she can endure the separation of a deployment.” I looked around at the stream, the hill, the path leading back to the house. “Considering where we are, you’ll understand that allusion.”
He raised a brow.
