Page 71 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Louisa glanced at him, unsure if what he said meant what she wanted it to. She had thought she’d known how he felt before, and it had only made his rejection twice as hard.
When she said nothing, he continued. “Besides water and touch, confined spaces set me off on occasion. I do all right in carriages, but it took years of practice to shut out the memories of the dark closet she regularly locked me in. I also struggle with trusting my ability to care for others. To believe that who I am is enough.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She knew what this admission must’ve cost him to share. He was a private man, and yet he’d trusted her with this. Dipping her head, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before she looked up at him again. His pain and hers combined felt so heavy. “That woman—your natural mother—I’m glad she gave you away to the Sheldons.”
“As am I.” His hands came up and unpinned her soaked riding hat from her head. He shook the wilted thing a few times to drain the water from it and set it aside. Then his hand was back on her hair, smoothing away the wet strands that clung to her face and playing with the whisps that were starting to curl at odd angles as they dried. His touch was tender and gentle. When he spoke, his voice was a near whisper. “If I thought it was frightening nearly drowning as a child, it was far worse for me today. I’m relieved you’re safe. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Why did he have to be so kind and so frustrating all at once? His fingers brushed her neck as he tucked back another strand of hair, making her shiver. He must have thought she was cold still, for he immediately put his arm around her shoulder and tugged her close. She dropped her gaze again, wanting to stay in the crook of his arm and at the same time wishing he’d just go home.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” Paul said slowly. “I don’t want you to be afraid like I am. To cry like that...”
She sniffed and wiped the building moisture in her eyes again. “I’ve been trying so hard since my parents’ death to be happy that everything just came out all at once.”
“Why are you trying so hard? Surely grieving is a natural thing to do after such devastating loss.”
“Because it was what my father wanted. Before he died, he asked me to smile. To be happy. To let what happens happen.” The familiar words tumbled to her lips, bringing with it the memory of her holding her father’s hand as he’d spoke them. She stared out at the deceiving beauty of the pond in front of her, and the irony of the setting struck her. Life had given her the same illusion of contentedness before the accident had changed her perception of it forever. “I tried. Honestly, I tried. But my strength is exhausted. I cannot bring myself to pretend for another moment.”
Paul squeezed her shoulder and rested his head atop hers. “Your father would be proud of you. Your efforts to heed his counsel have been most admirable. It was that smile of yours that started to work on me, making me wonder how someone who had suffered so greatly could be so happy. Your perspective has been a ray of sunshine for all who have met you this past month.”
She latched on to his words, wanting to believe her efforts had been enough, but she was too broken to believe him.
“I know my opinion hardly matters,” he said, “but I have full confidence that your father would still want you to grieve and work through your feelings. He would not want you to pretend away your hurt but to use it to sympathize with others and lift them as you have me.”
Swallowing down another wave of emotion, she said, “I only wanted to honor his last request.” And she was failing miserably.
His head nodded against her own. “I believe you have, Louisa. I imagine leaving you behind was the hardest thing your father ever did. I believe his request was not intended to pressure you but to help you. Just as you do not want your parents to be disappointed in you, they would not want you to be unhappy without them. It seems to me your father’s wishes were for you to heal from your loss and move forward with a peaceful heart. He did not expect you to be happy every second of your existence.”
“Of course he didn’t... I mean... but what if he did? What if I was given more than most by having such a loving family and I owe it to them and to myself?” She thought of Paul and the hard life he had been born into as evidence to her claim.
Paul’s fingers now drew small circles on her shoulder. “I think they’d be proud of your strength and such a worthy desire. But when life mistreats you, I daresay they would want you to have a good cry now and then too.”
She turned her head so her cheek rested against his chest. “I hope you are right.” She thought again about what her father had said, trying to see how she could have misinterpreted it.
Paul seemed to read her mind. “Your father was likely directing you to search for the good in life, to find it, and to hold it close. After every disappointment, to start over again, searching, finding, and holding on.”
Her body must have absorbed pond water, for her eyes filled with more tears, and they ran down her face before she could stop them. His words sounded like something her father would have said. She didn’t have to force happiness. She could still feel deeply while searching for the good things to latch on to. Good things like memories, walks in the garden, teasing Logan into smiling, and best of all, if she could be near Paul. She breathed deeply, letting this new perspective settle in her mind. Yes, this was something she wanted to embrace. As soon as she thought it, a rightness settled in her heart. If only she’d seen it earlier, but she’d been too close to the memory—too fiercely devoted to take Papa’s guidance for anything but literal. It would be a new journey for her, but she would do her best to start searching, finding, and holding on to the things that brought her joy—true joy.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She felt a greater measure of peace than she had felt in a great while, and even though Paul did not care for her in the way she wanted him to, he had helped her see things clearer—for that she was grateful. She still wanted to make her parents proud, but as she remembered their love for her, she knew in her heart that Paul was right. They would want her to be happy, but they would also want her to overcome her disappointments. And that meant allowing herself to feel them.
She willed her eyes to dry up and mopped up her tears the best she could with her hand. She pulled away enough to steal another glance at Paul. His gaze was like his jacket—warm and calming. It rested on her with an unwavering steadiness that was unlike any look he’d bestowed on her before. His face was a handspan from her own, and she knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. Butterflies twirled in her stomach the longer she stared.
His eyes lowered to her mouth. “Louisa?”
“Yes?”
“I miss your smile. Would it make you happy again if I kissed you?”
Before she could answer, Paul tilted his head and pressed his lips softly against hers. The next breath she took was filled with him. For a man who preferred not to touch anyone, he was remarkably good at it. Her hand went to his shirt, her fingers curling around the fabric, willing him to linger. With the heat of his lips on her own, she couldn’t process whether this was a gift to take with her or a promise for a future together. With an ounce of faith in the latter, she returned his kiss, and with it, all her tumultuous thoughts faded. This did make her happy—blissfully, completely, utterly happy.
Her fingers found his jaw, sliding along the small prickles left from his last shave. He caught her hand and released her mouth long enough to press a burning kiss to her palm. Her sharp intake of breath brought his hazel eyes to meet hers. The color was pronounced not just in his eyes, but in his face. His mouth lifted in a slow half smile.
Her lips could not hold back a grin in response. He did care. He would not have done something so difficult and so wonderful otherwise.
“Next time you cry”—he tucked her hair around her ear again—“because you can now, don’t do it alone. I will hold you.”
She swallowed and nodded. He’d comforted her many times before, but this time it meant the most. It gave her hope that he wasn’t going to just let her leave. That maybe he wanted her to stay. But how could he hold her after his history with Mrs. Hammond? “Why can you touch me and no one else?”
“There is no one else I would want to hold.” His hand traced her jaw and her mouth. “You know, this new me is entirely your fault. Your determination to make the best of your sorrows, your cheerfulness, your desire to know the real me—it all made me think and feel things I had not allowed myself before. I began reevaluating what I wanted. I didn’t see you as a threat but as someone I was safe to be near and to trust myself with. Each step closer to you forced me to face my past. And as hard as it was, each time, parts of myself were restored. You did that for me. You helped me overcome the greatest obstacle to my happiness.” She leaned into his hand, savoring his words. “Isn’t it ironic? The very thing I avoided became the one thing that could heal me.”
