Page 74 of The Sisters of Sea View
When his hand dropped away, she armored her heart, as she was so accustomed to doing, and drew back her shoulders. “You may as well know the worst. This scar was not due to an injury as are yours. I—”
“You were born with a cleft lip.”
The breath left her. “You knew?”
“I assumed as much.”
She ducked her head, more self-conscious than ever. “Is it so obvious?”
“No. I might not have guessed, except that I have seen something like it before. In France, during the war. A Frenchwoman I met—who helped us, actually—had such a scar. Apparently, the surgical methods in France are more advanced.”
Viola nodded. “Yes, we went there after the war ended. That is where I had my last surgery.”Hopefullyher last.
He narrowed his eyes. “That still doesn’t explain why you hide that insignificant scar behind a veil.”
“Insignificant? Do you not know people believe it’s catching? That, if a woman expecting a child sees someone with a cleft lip, her child will be born that way too?”
“Balderdash.”
“Said by a man who has never had someone look at him and run.”
“Perhaps not run, but I have certainly seen people cringe and avert their eyes as they pass. My scars are far more extensive than yours.”
“Mine run deeper.”
“Is this a contest?”
She raised her hands. “Yours were earned while in service to king and country. To save a friend. Yours are a badge of honor.”
He gave a derisive snort.
She added, “Whereas mine is a mark of disgrace. Of deformity.”
“How you do feel sorry for yourself.”
She gaped at him. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black if ever I heard it.”
“Pfff.I suppose you’re right. But I hate being like this. Hate people looking at me with pity, or shuddering in revulsion, or both.”
She met his gaze, compassion swelling in her breast. “I don’t shudder.”
He stared at her as if gauging her sincerity, his good eye glowing like a firebrand. She looked away first.
Then, attempting to dispel the heaviness, she teased, “Nor do I see merely your scars. I also see a long, crooked nose. Large, hooded eyes. And thin, bowed lips. Your scars are the least of your problems.”
He expelled a wry puff of laughter, and she was relieved when he grinned.
“Thank you. I see I shall have no cause to become vain in your company.”
Sarah organized the sideboard that evening, preparing to help serve another dinner to their guests.
The dinners were not as grand as if they were entertaining, but had been good and varied so far, usually beginning with soup and fish, followed by meat and a rotation of side dishes, and finally coffee and dessert.
After the first few nights of guests eating alone, Sarah and Emily had agreed to take turns acting as hostess during the meals. One sat with the guests, keeping the conversation going, while the other oversaw the serving, helping Jessie as needed with refills and clearing away.
Emily was a natural in the role of hostess, asking everyone how they had spent their day, sharing local anecdotes, drawing the quieter guests into the conversation, and often making them laugh.
Sarah did her best to emulate her, yet no one could match Emily’s charm and repartee.
