Page 123 of The Sisters of Sea View
Mrs. Denby laid a hand on hers. “For years, I struggled to go on with my life and faith,” she confided. “Then I made it my goal to give thanks in everything, and hold tight to joy, even when it wants to slip from my grasp.”
“How?” Viola asked. “After everything you’ve been through?”
The old woman nodded. “Many days, I failed. Yet as with anything, it gets easier with long practice.” She patted Viola’s hand, her weak smile fading. “Now, I am tired, my dear. Do you mind if we don’t read today?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Denby. You rest. I will come and see you again soon.”
“How gracious you are, my dear. I give thanks for you too.”
———
On her way back to Sea View, Viola walked a different way, strolling past the stalls in the marketplace before emerging onto the esplanade. Finding herself near the York Hotel once more, she glanced over, stopped, and stared. There he was again, the same man she’d glimpsed before, sitting on one of the benches out front.
A second man approached, hailing, “Mr. Cleeves!” The men shook hands, and the newcomer sat down to talk.
Viola’s stomach cramped. This time, she could not explainaway the flicker of recognition or blame her imagination. This time, there could be no mistake. Abner Cleeves. Here, in Sidmouth.
The blood began pounding in her brain.Calm down, she told herself.He doesn’t even know you’re here.
Conversing animatedly with the other man, he did not look her way, and Viola’s wild heart rate began to slow. She pressed a steadying hand to her chest and exhaled. When her trembling eased, she forced herself to turn like a rusty gate and walk away, ears alert for any sound of footsteps following her.
How foolish, she reprimanded herself.He has done his worst to you and got his money. He wants nothing more to do with the unfortunate Miss Summers.
She wondered if he was having a holiday in Sidmouth or had come to set up practice there, as did so many surgeons. She prayed not the latter. She didn’t know what she would do if she had to encounter the man regularly.
As she walked home, she prayed she would never see him again.
That evening, several people gathered in the parlour again, talking, laughing, and playing games in the snug room lit by candlelight. For a moment, Sarah felt as though she’d been transported back to former days at Finderlay, when the house had often been full of family, friends, and happy occasions.
Sarah sat at her worktable, embroidering more primroses on Mamma’s handkerchief and keeping Mr. Henshall and Mr. Hornbeam company as they played another game of chess. As Mr. Henshall described the moves, the older man kept track of the positions in his mind and seemed to be winning.
Nearby, Emily and Mr. Stanley faced each other over the draughts board. Emily laughed and teased her opponent, playfully refusing to crown one of his pieces. Mr. Stanley was more reserved but smiled softly at her antics, his expression wistful.
Had she and Peter ever behaved that way? Not that she recalled. Peter had certainly been kind and attentive, although not given to teasing or flirtation. He was a quiet, serious man, and she had liked that about him.
Mr. Hornbeam directed his opponent to move his queen to a certain square. “Checkmate, I believe, Mr. Henshall.”
Callum studied the board for a way of escape, then sighed. “Right ye are, sir. You win again.”
Mr. Hornbeam tilted his head to one side. “I do hope you are not going easy on me because I am blind.”
“I wish I could claim it! No, sir. Ye beat me fair and square.”
Mr. Hornbeam nodded with satisfaction and rose. “Rematch tomorrow night?”
“I shall look forward to it.”
When the older man had taken himself to bed, Mr. Henshall remained.
“What have you and Effie been doing?” Sarah asked. “We have not seen much of you lately.”
“We took a trip into Lyme. Walked out onto the Cobb and took a meal in a public house there. Effie did some shopping.”
“Sounds lovely. Did Effie enjoy herself?”
“Aye. I believe she did.”
“Good.”
