Page 95 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“And Cora?” Effie asked politely.
“Cora is fine,” he said equally as polite.
“Gus?”
“Also well.” He mustered a thin smile and then abruptly flung his hat to the ground. He raked his hand through his hair. “Dash it all, Effie! I am not ready.”
Her eyes wide, she waited. Unsure. Unsteady really. She braced her hand against the trunk of the willow tree as Anderson stepped closer.
“I’m not ready for this.”
“For what?” she asked breathlessly.
“For you.”
“Me?”
“Us.”
“Us?”
“This.”
“What?” Effie was utterly and completely lost, if not afraid to hope.
“Dash it all,” he said again and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her against him. “I wanted to do this for far too long, but I am not ready.” And yet he was. Because he kissed her then. Under the willow tree. With no promise, no plans, just hope. And absolutely zero fear.
Effie pulled back, staring up into his eyes, searching and finding no answers. “But if you’re not ready—”
“I’m not ready for you.” A smile broke through his countenance, and it took Effie’s breath away. “At least I kept telling myself that. But then it drove me mad until Gus insisted I return. So here we are. Again.”
“But England? Your lordship. What about...?”
“This is why I’m not ready.” Anderson managed a little chuckle. “I have no clear answers, but I do know this.” He tipped his head closer to hers. “I know I am not afraid to live again. I’m not afraid to grieve what I have lost, but also embrace what I’ve been given.”
“What have you been given?” Effie whispered, daring to place her palm on the side of his face.
“You,” he stated. “I do believe I have been given you.”
And he had. And she had been given him, and Cora. Though Polly was no longer here, and Anderson’s wife, Laura, had also passed away, Effie knew that together she and Anderson could journey the crevices of grief. Because in the dying, new life sprang forth. It was the bittersweet reality that for some purpose God allowed to exist—until He made all things new.
