Page 23 of A Second Chance for Carys
“For Anthony, we don’t know. Four months after his birth, we found him one morning, dead in his cot. No one could give us any explanation as to what that might be. I still don’t understand what could have happened. We were told that it was God’s will, and that we weren’t the first or the last parents to experience such loss. A meagre consolation, as I’m sure you’ll agree.” He rubbed a shaky hand over his face. Carys could barely breathe. Years later, his pain was still so vivid that she could feel the echoes of it rippling through her. She could not begin to imagine what he had gone through. “He was such a happy, lively littleboy. When I found him, cold and still, I could not accept it. I held him all day and?—”
He stopped and clenched his fists. Carys stayed silent, because there was nothing to say. It was horrid, and nothing she could have said would change that.
She had heard about these mysterious, sudden deaths. One summer, two women in her village had lost their babes that way in the space of a week. Her neighbor had been a friend, so, naturally, Carys had gone to offer her condolences. Lost to her grief, unable to make sense of the tragedy that had hit her, desperate to find a culprit, the woman had rounded on her.
“You’re lucky to be unable to bear children!” she’d spat. “At least you’ll never know the pain of losing a babe.”
Yes, she was a lucky woman indeed, who would never know the joy of holding her babe in her arms.
She’d not responded.
Pushing the memories away, she took James’ hand in hers. “What about Edward?” Though this was painful, she didn’t want to give him the impression she didn’t care about his second son’s death. Each of the boys deserved to be talked about, because they had each been equally loved.
“About a year after Anthony’s death, Edward came back home one evening, complaining of cramps in his stomach. We asked him what he’d been doing that day and were told he’d drank some of the stagnant water by the marshes.” James’ eyes were void of emotion, his voice flat but this time Carys didn’t make the mistake of thinking him impassible. He was anything but. “He suffered for days. Just like with the others, there was nothing I could do, but this time it was even worse. I had to watch all the while, knowing I could not help, until he died.”
“Oh, James.”
Lord, this was unbearable.
“After that I found it impossible to make love to my wife in the normal way. I just couldn’t bear to father another child, only to lose him in turn. She understood, I think, and never complained, never blamed me. But it meant we could never quite recapture what we’d had at the start of our marriage. On her death bed I told her I wish I could have acted differently, but of course it was too late. She died without having joined with me, her husband, properly, for years.”
Carys squeezed the hand she was still holding. “Mae’n ddrwg gen i.”
Telling him she was sorry, and in Welsh, would not help in any way. But she needed to say it nonetheless. Why had she asked him anything? They had kissed, it had been wonderful, and instead of basking in the moment she’d gone and ruined it all with her stupid question, reminding him of his losses, his pain and his regrets. Couldn’t she have let it be?
“So in answer to your question, I didn’t take you that day on the beach because I could not. I cannot risk losing control. It’s been years since I have been able to?—”
To let himself go in a woman’s arms.
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. She’d understood what he’d not been able to say. But she knew with her there was no risk, as she would never conceive. Should she tell him as much? Was she brave enough? Was it the right time? They were talking about him right now.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you, or touched you in the way I did, because I’m never going to give you what you want. I cannot.”
Something fell to the bottom of Carys’ stomach. He thought she only wanted him for the pleasure his body could give her when he possessed her. He thought she was looking for a lover. She did not. She was not. What was between them was more than that.
Before she could say anything, he left.
“Carys, there you are. I looked for you everywhere yesterday and could not find you.”
Carys smiled at Richard. “No, you couldn’t have. I went to the village in the afternoon with Eirwen.”
The two of them had gone to Mistress Ivy to tell her about Branwen being with child, knowing she would be delighted at the news. She had been.
“I knew there wasn’t any problem with your daughter,” she said, abandoning the pots and plants she’d been sorting out to take her hands in hers. “Now that she has seen for herself that she can do it, she will have the beautiful family she craves. Sometimes it’s all in the mind.”
“Yes.”
And sometimes it was not, Carys couldn’t help but think. Sometimes there really was something broken in a woman’s body. Mistress Ivy must have seen the pain slashing through her guts because her smile wavered.
“I’m sorry. That was not the best thing for me to?—”
She cut her with a swift smile. “You couldn’t have known. And you’re right. Now that Branwen has seen there is nothing wrong with her, she will be able to relax and give her husband the family they both want.”
Carys certainly hoped so. With her conversation with James still preying on her mind, she could not help a sense of foreboding. All her life she had focused on getting with child. That, for her, had been the difficult part. She had not stopped to think beyond the conception, or even imagined that there could be problems afterward. But, oh, now she knew just howmany there could be. The story she’d heard that morning would haunt her for months to come. James and Joanne had suffered so much! Please let Branwen and Matthew not go through what they had gone through. She wasn’t sure how any of the people at Sheridan Manor would bear it.
“I just brewed some lemon balm tea,” Mistress Ivy said, an obvious attempt at distraction. “Would you like a cup?”
“With pleasure.”
