Propelled to standing by a weight of courage that drove through her middle, Anna stepped toward the parlor, hands quivering, stomach turning. Pressing away every quaking fear, she fixed the singular purpose in her vision as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen and steadied her eyes on William. His back to her, he still debated with the others as they circled the fireplace, all of them oblivious to her presence.
“Pardon me?” Hardly more than a whisper left her mouth. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Pa—pardon me?” Not any more volume than before. Gather yourself, Anna.
“William?” Finally, the needed volume.
The group pivoted toward her, and before her fears submerged her determination she spoke. “I…I would marry you.”
Pressing her hands against her middle Anna measured every inhale and exhale. William blinked as if he tried to interpret what she’d spoken, and instant regret dripped down her spine. The words remained on the air, echoing back and forth in the space between them, growing louder with every second that passed.
She offered a smile, however small she could muster, to show the sincerity of her statement and mask the way she quivered from head to foot, lest he believe she made light of his serious troubles.
William didn’t move. His gaze drove through her like a sharp spike, every unspoken word preaching from the folds in his brow.
He thinks I am mad.
She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, I—”
“What did you say?” he said.
She swallowed and gripped her fingers harder, straining with every thread of strength to keep her voice from shaking. “I…I said I would marry you.” Her throat clenched and she hardly found the strength to speak again. She prayed her plea would soften the hard lines of his jaw. “If you would have me.”
He scowled deeper then turned to look at the others as if seeking some kind of counsel. They thought her a fool. Likely she was. What had she done?
Mrs. Watson stepped forward, arms outstretched until she reached Anna, taking her hand. Her gentle grasp tightened as she undoubtedly felt the tremor in Anna’s fingers.
Her voice was low and wound around Anna like a comforting blanket. “Mrs. Rone, you needn’t offer yourself. I am s
ure you are very grateful to…” She turned around briefly. “To Mr. Fredericks. But you mustn’t feel the need to—”
“But I don’t—I mean I do, I mean…” Anna looked down, feeling the heat of every eye and the oppressive weight of her declaration. Her breath raced. What else could she do? No doubt that man from the carriage still sought her. If her rescuer did not accept this proposal, where would she go? She had no one. No place of refuge. Could it be possible God had arranged such a moment—for her? For both of them?
Lips pressed together, she looked at the man who once again stared. He’d been so kind. Was it foolish to think such generosity would be continued through a lifetime? The past cried from her memory like a prisoner just freed from the shackles. You fool! Have your years of bondage taught you nothing?
Then, as if the hand of God Himself stroked her very spirit, the quivering ceased and she looked up, meeting the kind gaze of the woman in front of her as the fear drained from her spirit. “I do wish to, Mrs. Watson.”
With a quick squeeze, Anna released her grip and stepped into the parlor, stopping several feet from the man who could be her husband.
Meeting his stare, she lifted her chin, unsure how she was able to stay upright, let alone meet his questioning gaze. “I do not know your reasons, as well I know you do not know mine.” She stopped, screaming a silent prayer. “But I do know if we are both committed to God, and to one another, we can make a happy marriage.”
She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to keep speaking and fill the itching silence.
Still he said nothing, but the pique in his features melted and the slope of his mouth seemed to ask if she were in earnest.
Anna pleaded with God to quiet the remaining fears, holding tight to her abiding faith. Gaining William’s gaze, she gifted him a half-smile, his endless blue eyes swimming with questions and fears, and perhaps, even hope.
The painful silence continued.
Would he say nothing? Her mind whirled. Had she spoken when she ought not? Her cheeks turned hot. Her stomach twisted as she fought the memories of Edwin— his forceful hand, jealous eye and demanding nature. Consumed, she lowered her eyes. Nay. Not again. Not ever again. Dear Lord, what have I done?
She took a step back when William reached out. “Mrs. Rone.”
The tenderness in his strong fingers eased her rising anxiety and she stopped, studying his fingers as they tenderly gripped her arm.
He continued and moved his hand to hers, that deep resonating voice now a thick whisper. “You would do this? You are under no obligation.”
“I know.” She waited, expecting the fears to rise to threatening levels, for her throat to close and her vision to blur. But her pulse stayed even and her eyes remained clear. The longer she stood with her hand in his, hope, weightless and warm, circled her spirit.
She found her voice. “I would do this.”