Page 35 of Lover
“Darling, even the most loving parents hurt their children in some way. Humans are beasts, as much as we like to think we aren’t.” I’d been thinking of my own mother, who’d cared deeply for me, had given me all the affection and kindness any child could wish for, and in the end hurt me so bitterly by believing I wasn’t hers. “Tell me, how do you plan on treating our currently mythical offspring?”
“Of course I’d try to love them the way I wanted to be loved, the way all children deserve to be.”
“Then there you are.”
“Callum.”
“Yes, my love?”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
It was my turn to be quiet, feeling around in my soul for the true answer and not the ready, careless one so expected by society.
“Yes,” I said at length and with complete sincerity. “I really do.”
“Then we’ll have them,” she said, contentment taking the place of fear in her voice.
We’d never used the nursery, so carefully designed, and I watched Millie’s light deteriorate as each blow came worse than the last. Perhaps this house was cursed after all. With all that had happened, here upon my knees by the bedside of my wife, ill again from the agony of a loss she couldn’t remember, I began to believe.
CHAPTER 20
THE FOLLOWING TWO days were a turmoil of anxious waiting, Millie coming in and out of consciousness, though only enough to take small sips of water. By the next afternoon, her fever subsided, yet she continued to sleep.
Hannigan was a constant presence, checking her vitals and instructing Ms. Dillard to give her warm sponge baths to encourage circulation. Contrary to usual, Willowfield’s housekeeper and the doctor didn’t argue, didn’t snap or snarl or pretend to dislike one another. Instead, they stood vigil together by Millie, someone important to both of them, and it deeply touched me. Humans were so often incapable of fully appreciating the miracle of good people in their lives. I was no different, too mired in my own troubles and miseries to give them full recognition. But whatever hardships, or perhaps curses, I suffered, love had survived in Willowfield. Perhaps it would continue to.
Felicity moved about quiet as a ghost, startling when someone spoke to her as though she’d forgotten we were there. She gazed at Millie with sorrowful eyes and, at one point, burst into tears.
I took her into the hallway to console her, wondering if it wasn’t cruel to be keeping her when the tragedies of this place affected her so.
“It’s going to be all right, Felicity,” I promised like a cad, knowing I had no control over whether it would be.
“Callum,” she said. She rarely called me by my name, though I’d never asked her not to, and her voice was airy with fear. “Millie shouldn’t stay at the house anymore. It’s hurting her.”
Her confession encouraged me to do something I hadn’t done since we were very young—hug her. Felicity had always been petite, but since her sickness, she’d grown so slight it was like embracing a child.
“Please don’t worry about all of this,” I urged. “Dr. Hannigan and I have already discussed things. I’m going to take Millie away from Willowfield for a while.”
“For a while?”
“Until the renovations are complete and Millie is feeling better. When everything settled, we’ll come back and try to make things as they were.”
This far from soothed her. Anger, an aspect she seldom wore, was evident as she broke away from me. “No! You can’t come back. The problems in this house won’t go away with renovations!”
Taken aback by her outburst, I began to scold, “Felicity, what the devil are you—”
She turned and hurried back into the room to tend to the bedding, dismissing me midsentence, nearly knocking the doctor over as he was exiting at the same time following his routine check on Millie.
“What was that all about?” he asked when the door closed behind her.
“Hannigan,” I started, “I’m worried about Felicity.”
The old man made a gruff noise of agreement, looking back over his shoulder at the closed door. “Helen is too.”
“What can be done, then?” I asked, overwhelmed by the many troubles at hand and the number of people who depended on my making decisions that were in good sense. “Some time away would be good for her, but I doubt she would go.”
“Let me think on that. You have bigger things to focus on,” he said. “Speaking of, I’ve made a few calls to some good friends abroad—apprising them of your circumstances and your intention to travel. You’ll have a medical professional always prepared to help if something happens while you’re away. When do you plan to leave?”
“As soon as possible. I have only a few minor things to take care of at the perfumery, then Burt and Lottie are more than capable of taking the reins.”
