Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
She tried to respond by motioning with her hands but made little sense, even to her. Then he reached out and clasped her flailing hands in his. She thought that for a brief moment her heart stopped beating.
“I know that you are grateful that I understand you. You need not worry; I will always understand you.”
He released her hands and moved his face closer to her, or was it her imagination or the wishful thinking of a young lonely woman? She remained perfectly still, waiting.
A sudden scream and fit of laughter caused them to jump apart and their attention was drawn to the lads scurrying down out of the tree, tormenting each other as they returned to the village.
Mary turned to Michael but he was gone. He had stood to her side, directly behind her, a mere whisper away from her—and yet she had not sensed his departure.
He had entered her life when she needed him and he would leave her when his presence was no longer necessary. They would be brief acquaintances sharing a brief time together, offering comfort to one another—nothing more.
She shook her head and returned to the village to find Glenda. She needed to think on something other than Michael and her foolish thoughts.
Michael, behind a large oak tree, watched her walk away, annoyed that he hid from her. Or was he hiding from his own feelings? He had thought his emotions died with those he loved many years ago. Or had he buried them thinking them dead? Had Mary found a way to resurrect his feelings?
He turned away when Mary was no longer in sight, braced his back against the tree and slowly slid down to sit on the hard ground. He took his gloves off and rubbed his chin.
It was not only his heart he had buried; he had buried himself. The moment he slipped on the black shroud he had lost his identity. He was no more and it took a touch to his own skin to remind him that he was real.
Mary, however, had made him feel more than real; her simple touch also reminded him he was a man. She made him feel alive. She brought out feelings that he had thought dead and long buried.
He again rubbed his cheeks, then his neck before rubbing his hands together.
Mary was a woman of substance in many ways. Even though he sensed her full of fear, he saw she refused to surrender to it; she remained courageous and did what was necessary even when difficult. She was a remarkable woman who had withstood hardship and had grown in strength, character, and conviction.
And he found himself admiring her more each day.
He slipped his gloves on quickly and stood.
Admire.
He would do well to remember that he admired her and no more. He marched off into the woods muttering several oaths beneath his breath.
Michael did not return for supper, still Mary shared an enjoyable meal with Glenda, Terence, and Patricia. She listened as the three exchanged stories of their childhoods and talked of the future with a certainty that brought a smile to Mary’s face.
It was a pleasant evening that reminded her of her own dreams of the future with family and friends, so that when the evening came to an end she felt a sudden sadness.
She climbed into bed alone and, though a fire heated the cottage, she felt chilled huddled under the covers warding off not only the cold but loneliness.
She had no one, her family was gone, the loving couple that had cared for her was lost to her forever, and Magnus would find somewhere safe for her but keep his distance as before, for her protection. Where did that leave her but alone? She shivered against her forced isolation.
Even sleep refused to befriend her, and she did not know how long she lay there. It seemed like an eternity, and whenever a shadow drifted into the room she thought Michael had returned. When she realized he had not, she felt disappointment. As the night went on she concluded that Michael would not join her. Was he busy tending to matters? Or had he simply chosen not to share the bed with her any longer? Both thoughts concerned her; after all, he was all she had at the moment and she missed him beside her.
She attempted to remind herself that self-pity did little good and perhaps it was better this way. She feared becoming dependent on him or perhaps she feared she might grow to care for him. It was so easy with him always around, making certain she was safe and secure. Perhaps she could get used to his presence, dark and ominous as he was, find a light inside him. She could, if they had more time together.
“Mary.”
Michael startled her and she jumped, then she smiled.