She needed to say it aloud. To remind herself of why she was suffering, why she could not cave to selfish temptation.
Hattie’s high voice interrupted the silence. “But does that mean...” Her legs were tucked under her where she sat by the fire, and she leaned forward with excitement. “Did he ask you to go with him, Min?”
The rest of her sisters gasped as they waited for her answer. When she nodded, Rebecca clapped her hands together. “I knew it.”
“You knew nothing,” Sally teased. She turned to Minerva. “What did he say?”
“What did you say?” Abigail asked.
Only her father was silent, and he was looking on in horror.
“I said no,” Minerva said quietly, the words sharp and painful. “As I must.”
“But...but why?” Rebecca exclaimed.
“Why?” Now their father spoke, and it made up for his earlier silence by far. “Why? What kind of question is that? Of course Minerva can’t go off with some sailor she hardly knows.”
“But she loves him.” Hattie’s sweet and innocent voice had them all freezing in place.
She loves him.
Minerva felt the room spin around her as her heart cleaved in two. She wished she could deny it.
“She loves him?” Her father stared at her like he’d never seen her before, waiting for an answer. Her lips parted and shut without a word escaping.
Oh, how she wished she could deny it.
He turned to Abigail. “She loves him?”
Abigail shot her a sidelong wince as she shrugged.
He turned to her other sisters.
“I’ve never seen her so happy,” Sally said.
Rebecca grinned. “I’ve never seen her distracted or—”
“In love,” Hattie finished with a sigh that would have made Minerva groan at any other time.
Sweet Hattie had her romantic notions. That was all well and good for a sixteen-year-old girl and her silly fictional heroines. But for her? A grown woman with four sisters to look after?
She folded her hands together and drew in a deep breath. Love was a luxury she could not afford.
“Is this true, Minerva?” her father asked. He looked paler and more stricken than she’d ever seen him.
She could not bring herself to answer in a straightforward manner; instead, she opted to share the only truth that mattered. “I know I am needed here, Father. I would not leave you all.”
Not like Mother.
“But—but...” Rebecca’s eyes were wide with horror. “Why not?”
Sally frowned. “I think what Rebecca means, Min, is that...well...”
She looked to Abigail who took Minerva’s hand and clasped it tight. “We want you to be happy, Min. And while we appreciate all you have done for us—”
Hattie stepped in. “We don’t need you anymore.”
Minerva blinked at her youngest sister who winced. “Sorry. That sounded harsher than intended.” Hattie glanced up at their father. “But tell her it’s true.”
Minerva looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand. You want me to leave?”
“No, of course not!” Abigail was the loudest, but they all protested vehemently until Abigail added, “We just want you to be happy.”
“We would never forgive ourselves if you gave up true love just because you felt you had to take care of us,” Rebecca added.
Silence filled the small room as emotions tore Minerva’s chest in two.
It was her father who broke it this time. “Girls, I’d like a word with your sister.”
As one, her sisters rose and filed out of the room. When it was just the two of them, her father turned to her with more emotion than she could ever recall seeing in his wrinkled old features. “My dear, now is the time for honesty and...” He cleared his throat. “And an apology.”
Her brows shot up. “I am sorry, Father—”
“No, I meant—” He stopped to chuckle. “Min, darling, I meant that I owe you an apology.”
She frowned, certain now that she’d heard wrong.
He sat beside her with a sigh that was uncharacteristic. “Minerva, there is something I need to say to you. It’s about your mother.”
She tensed. Part of her wanted to plead with him to stop. Any other time, perhaps, she could handle a conversation about the woman who’d abandoned them for her life of adventure. Now, she could barely handle keeping her eyes open, and these tears that choked her weren’t going away anytime soon. “Father, we do not need to do this now,” she started.
“I beg to differ.” The rueful amusement in his voice had her glancing over. He was staring at the door through which her sisters had left. “Your little militia will never give me a moment’s peace if they think I let you sacrifice your happiness for theirs.”
She chuckled. “They are hardly my little militia anymore, now are they?” She sighed and it was bittersweet. “They no longer follow me single-file on our outings to town—”
“And I’d like to see you try to make Rebecca or Hattie eat their porridge like good little girls.” His laughter made her smile despite the ache in her heart.
This was her family, and she loved them with all her heart. Surely staying here was no sacrifice.
Her heart begged to differ.
“They might have grown, but they are still your militia,” her father said, his tone still warm with memories and love. “They are all intelligent and strong-minded.” He turned to face her. “And all thanks to you.”
She smiled. “You give me too much credit.”
“Not at all. When your mother...left...” He stumbled over the words but recovered before she could interrupt and tell him he did not have to continue. “When she was gone, you stepped in and filled her role admirably. It was much to ask of a young girl who was little more than a child herself, but you took on responsibilities that would have rattled most grown men, and you did it with no complaints.”
Her heart warmed at the praise, but this rare display of affection and appreciation was doing little for her battle with tears. His smile turned sad when he turned to face her. “You remind me so much of her.”
Minerva stiffened.
“You
