neither one of them would have brought anything so delicate as the journal.
“Garrit?” she called back into the hall.
He laughed when he found her in the library. “Checking to be certain everything is still in its place?”
She smiled, but she didn’t mean it, distracted by the absence within the glass case.
The humor in his expression faded almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find the journal.” She pulled books from the cabinet, careful of the more fragile items. Old leather fragmented and flaked in her hands. Garrit had mentioned sending several for restoration and recopying, but surely he wouldn’t send the journal without telling her. She put the books back gently. “Did you do something with it?”
“No.” He checked the cabinet again, and the end table near her favorite chair. “Did you leave it in the bedroom?”
She frowned. “I don’t remember taking it out of the library. I left it right here.” She touched the spot beneath the bronze lamp. A scrap of paper poked out from beneath the base, tucked there as if to keep it from being lost. She pulled it out and unfolded it.
She stared at the script until Garrit took the paper from her. A muscle along his jaw twitched, and he murmured something in French she didn’t catch. A curse, she thought, flinching from his anger, poorly banked. “Adam.”
“He said he wanted to read it while he was here. I wouldn’t let him.” She should have known it would only encourage him when she refused to allow it.
He crumpled the note in his fist, his eyes dark. “Predictable of him, really. The man believes he is above any decency of manner. I begin to think he does not understand the word no.”
“You don’t know him.” She took the paper back, opening it up. In all these years, she’d never seen his handwriting. During her life as Helen, no one but scribes and record keepers wrote anything, though she had made it her business to learn what she could.
Garrit tilted her head back up with a finger beneath her chin. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he searched her eyes. “Neither do you, Abby.”
She pulled away from his hand and looked back at the note. The whole situation made her resentful. Of Adam. Of Garrit, for being right. “So what do we do?”
“Call Mia and ask her to return it. I doubt she’ll believe he stole it, but we could say it was mistakenly packed with their things.” He shrugged. “If I have to, I’ll go retrieve it personally.”
“You don’t think he’ll give it back willingly? He hasn’t yet broken his word, has he?”
He turned away, running his hand through his hair. “He hasn’t had a choice, Abby. Crossing into our lands is one thing, thieving a family heirloom is something else entirely.”
“Garrit, that doesn’t make any sense.”
He sighed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
She studied the way his shoulders tensed while he talked. The uneasy way he looked toward the window. The way everyone had been jumping at the thunderstorms. Even Ryam. And Adam, keeping his own secrets. Or maybe they were the same secrets. All of it.
“What exactly is going on?”
He looked back at her then, his lips pressed thin. There were too many lines in his face, for a man who wasn’t even thirty. “There are things at work here that are so far beyond me I wouldn’t be able to explain even if I wanted to. Even if I was permitted.”
“Permitted?” She took his hand and pulled him around to face her. “I could lift it right from your mind, Garrit.”
“But you won’t.” It was said so quietly, his gaze holding hers. “Will you?”
She dropped his hand as though he’d burned her. She wanted more than anything to think there was something more about her family, something she didn’t understand, something that would keep them safe. God’s protection, perhaps, lingering somehow through Reu’s children. But stealing the knowledge from Garrit’s mind was a step closer to Adam. And the idea of doing that to her own husband made her sick.
Garrit nodded, some of the lines around his mouth easing. “There’s another copy of the journal in the vault. The original. I cannot promise it’s legible anymore, but we might restore it if the other is lost.”
She looked at the door, unable to meet his eyes. She’d been tempted, so tempted to simply take the answers she sought, and Garrit stood there, more relaxed with every word, trusting her in spite of it. “I’ve been meaning to go down there anyway. It’s been nearly five hundred years since I looked at any of it.”
“It would take you months to sort through it all.” He caught her hand as she stepped back and pulled her into his arms. “Abby, I love you. If I could tell you everything, I would.”
“But you can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead against hers, his hands framing her face.
She closed her eyes and wished that Adam had never come into her life again. That things could go back to the way they were, without any secrets.
She touched his face. Ran her fingers through his hair. And then she kissed him. Her husband. Her family. Her love.
Having just arrived home from their honeymoon, a kiss was the only encouragement he needed, and for a time, it was enough to make them both forget what they were fighting about.
Eve lay awake in bed for a long time afterwards, wondering if she carried a child. Motherhood had never frightened her after the first time. She had always known it was part of her purpose, part of what made her unique. Her children, with rare exception, were always born strong and healthy. And those exceptions had been miscarriages, early in the pregnancy, and only in situations where she hadn’t cared for her body as well as she could have. God had made her strong, but the babies in her womb were only human. Mortal and weak, as Adam would have said.
She had known her fair share of poor households, and lives of poverty. She had been a pauper more times than she could count. In those lives, she had been careful of pregnancy, seeking to avoid bringing a child into the world until she knew she could care for it properly. Simple things that ordinarily she wouldn’t worry about for herself. Food, water, shelter, clothing. But as a woman of means, in the DeLeon household where any child would be celebrated and cared for, there was no reason to worry. No reason to wait. Garrit would make a fine father, as Ryam had. It was only Adam that worried her. So close now, no matter how far away he was, as the husband of her sister. It wouldn’t be the first time he had threatened a child of her body. Or the first time his presence had been a threat to her and her family.
She pressed her hand to her belly, below her navel. Would whatever protected her here on the estate also protect her child from his threat? Did she dare trust that Adam would keep his word, and do no harm to her family now that he was married to Mia?
“Abby.” Garrit’s hand covered hers on her stomach, and he kissed her cheek as he pulled her against his body. “You’re worrying again.”
She turned her head to look at him and smiled to see him studying her. He must have been watching her for some time. “How can you tell?”
He raised his hand to her face, smoothing the hair away from her forehead. “You scowl.” He touched his fingertip to the spot between her eyebrows. “And your brow wrinkles right here.”
“You imagine it, I think.” She kissed his temple and nestled against him.
He tucked her head beneath his chin and she felt him sigh. A contentedness leached from his body into hers without conscious effort and eased her mind into a pleasant lassitude. “
“Even when I frustrate you to the point of shouting?”
He chuckled. “Even then. Those same things that frustrate me, I love.” But she caught the shift in his mood as the silence stretched between them. “I could wish your damned brother hadn’t stolen that book.”
“He’ll return it.” She wasn’t sure what made her so certain, but she was sure. “I think he just wanted to understand.”
