Page 48 of Rose
He squeezed her hand. “What were their names?” he asked softly.
Tears stung her eyes once more, but she smiled through them. “Ina was my oldest. She would be fifteen today.” Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sob.
His pulled her close. “I’m so sorry. It is too painful. I never should have asked.”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said through her tears. “Thank ye for asking. No one ever asks me about my girls. They’re too afraid to upset me or worried it will hurt too much. But I want to talk about them. I want to remember.” Her tears fell freely. She looked at him and did not try to hide or fight her emotion.
“Tell me more,” he said softly.
She smiled and sobbed all at once. “Ina was the one most like Henry.” She began, her voice trembling. “My husband was a good man. I loved him dearly.”
“Was he a fisherman?”
Rose shook her head. “Nay, he was a carpenter. He didn’t like the sea very much, and neither did Ina. Like Henry, she preferred the warmth of home. She had his rich, brown hair, even temperament, and kind heart. She loved to sing and would fill the air with song from morning to night.” She took up the hem of her tunic and wiped her eyes. When she spoke again her voice was stronger, clearer. “Now, Nora was my wee imp,” she said, chuckling. “A miniature version of me, fiery red hair and all. What a wild wee lass she was, always running and climbing. We could scarce keep her from scaling the rocks along the shore. Henry and I decided the only way to keep her safe was to teach her to swim.”
Her hands folded over her heart, and she stared off into space, seeing what Tristan could not. Her body gently swayed side to side. “And then there was Florrie. She was my baby,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just two years old. She was her da’s best girl and always wanted to follow Henry off to work every morning.”
Rose’s shoulders sagged a little, and she blew out a long, slow breath.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “They sound like remarkable girls.”
Laying her head on his chest, she nodded. “They are,” she whispered. Then she looked up at him. “I’m tired now, Tristan. I ken ‘tis early but I would like to go to sleep.”
He nodded and stood up and helped her off the bed to pull the covers back. “You take the bed,” he said. “There’s plenty of room here for me to sleep on the floor.”
She seized his hand. “Nay,” she said, a flash of panic in her eyes. “I want ye to lie with me. I want ye to hold me.” Once more her eyes flooded with tears.
He pulled her close. “I’m here,” he crooned softly in her ear. Then he scooped her into his arms and laid her on the bed. He curled up behind her and held her tight. He could feel her fatigue. “Rest now, Rose. I’ve got you. You just rest.”
