Several daysafter my first lesson with Mr. Basset, I took a trip to the post office, hoping for letters from home. I had three letters, one from Mama, another from Josephine, and the other from Cymbeline. I waited until I was home and sitting comfortably before opening them. I read Mama’s letter first.
Dearest Fiona,
I hope this letter finds you well. We arrived in London with no mishaps and then went north to the place of your father’s birth and upbringing. We’ve spent a wonderful visit with his brother and sister-in-law. The years have a way of soothing old wounds. Your father and his brother seem to have forgotten whatever disagreements they once had. Robert and his wife, Cassandra, have talked about coming to Colorado for a visit. She’s scared of bears and coyotes but I assured her she would be fine in Emerson Pass. Gossip was more likely to nip you than a bear. I chuckled when I said it, but she merely looked at me with wide eyes. I must seem like a wild woman to her.
You have been on my mind, dearest. Leaving you in Paris had seemed right up until the time we got there and I actually had to say goodbye to you. I hope the esteemed Mr. Basset is what we imagined and that you’re enjoying working on your craft without interruption. I felt certain that your merry band of artist friends would keep you entertained. Have they?
I wonder, too, about the handsome Mr. West. Have you seen him since that night? I had a good feeling about him. He is the kind of man who would make an excellent husband and father. Perhaps I was more taken with him than you? I mention it only to say that I don’t want you to feel any pressure when it comes to him or any man. There is a lot of time for you to find the right mate.
A letter from Josephine was waiting here for us. She wrote that our boys had taken it upon themselves to avenge Li after the attack. She didn’t give many details, for which I was thankful. Suffice it to say, the men will no longer be bothering Li or anyone else in Emerson Pass. They’ve been not-so-politely asked to leave town. Jo hinted that Cymbeline might have partaken in the scheme to escort them out of town. I can only imagine what trouble she’s flirting with since she’s been home and without her beloved sport to focus her energy upon. Josephine says everything is going well with Cym’s confinement. I am grateful for that. Between you and me, I was a tad worried she wouldn’t take Theo’s medical advice to take it a little easier than usual.
Speaking of Li, Jo said he has not been himself since you left. He won’t admit to it, of course, but she said he seems very low. She and Cymbeline have asked him and Mrs. Wu to dinner several times, but he’s declined with one excuse or the other. I do believe those horrid men have shaken his faith in our community. To be frank, I’m shaken myself. Your father has devoted his life to building a haven for anyone who wishes to comply with the unspoken laws of decency and kindness. These days it seems harder and harder to maintain the standards we once had. With growth comes advantages but also setbacks.
I will close now as your father has come to gather me for tea. As you know, the English take their tea quite seriously, and I mustn’t be late. I love you, dearest girl.
Yours,
Mama
I opened Cymbeline’s next.
Dearest Sister,
You won’t believe the nonsense that’s happened since you left. Firstly, Viktor won’t let me out of his sight. Other than when he leaves for work (thank God he has a job) or has to run an errand, he’s here with me, watching me like a hawk with its baby. I don’t know what he thinks will happen to me without his keen gaze. I shan’t fall over just from walking from one room to the other. He’s forbidden me to conduct my usual exercise, saying it might harm the baby. I spoke with Louisa, and she’s in agreement, that a baby is nestled inside my womb like she’s sleeping between the softest yet safest pillows. Thus, I have been doing my usual exercises, invented by him I might add, while Viktor is at the bank working. We’ve hired a girl to help around the house, and I’ve bought her silence with a few extra coins a week. She has to help me with the washing, otherwise Viktor will see my clothes stained with perspiration and know right away.
You’re probably shaking your head right now, worried too. You shouldn’t worry. My body needs to be strong for the baby and my sport. I refuse to give up everything I enjoy just because I will have a son or daughter. The men in our lives don’t have to, so why should we? I want to be in good physical condition afterward so that I can begin training for the next competition.
Anyway, enough about that. Without you here to talk with, I have no one to tell my secrets to. No one understands me as you do. Well, perhaps Viktor, which is why I have to hide things from him. He understands me but doesn’t always agree, which poses a problem.
I’ve been thinking a lot about you and Li since you left. He’s been moping about town like a sad child of late. I feel sorry for him, if you want to know the truth. I’ve decided that he’s a man who will be perpetually unhappy. Why, you wonder? Because he has such high-minded principles that he cannot get out of his own way. I believe if he allowed himself to, he would see that he does indeed love you. The more he protests, the more suspicious I get. Who does that sound like, after all? Me, of course. How many times did I tell you I hated Viktor when truly, if I’d been honest with myself, I would have known how deeply I love him. What evidence of this do I have in regard to Li, you ask? Don’t deny it, I can see you frowning as you read this letter. Teehee!
Anyway, about Li. Please refer to the abovementioned moping. He’s sad without you, Fiona. Miserable, in fact. I know it. If only he could see that allowing himself to feel what he feels will set him free. He has high moral principles. That’s the trouble right there. He sees you as untouchable and thus has entrenched himself in the belief.
However, I digress. I miss you and cannot wait until you return to me. I know it’s selfish but I’m so very glad you’ll be back before this baby comes. I’m absolutely, utterly terrified of its arrival. What kind of mother will I be? Don’t answer that. But I’ll have you and Jo and Mama to help me, so perhaps the child will be all right despite her mother’s lack of skill. Do you know I can’t even figure out how to make bread? Mine comes out flat as a pancake. We can talk about that when you get home. But seriously, what’s the bakery for anyway? They do it better than I can, so why shouldn’t I just buy a loaf of bread? I digress…
I love you more than I could say, dearest sister. I count the days until your return.
Love,
Cymbeline Olofsson. (I can’t get enough of writing my new name.)