The Letter by Sandra Owens Page B

me with Leo. I’ve not talked to them since.”
    “Myana.”
    Her special name, spoken so softly, so filled with remorse was more than she could bear. She lifted a hand, stopping him. “No, please. If you want forgiveness, it is yours. It is a horrid story, and we were all deceived by a despicable man. I need you to be patient while I settle everything in my mind.”
    What if she had walked into Michael’s chamber and found a woman with her mouth on him? Just the thought of it made her want to hurt something. As much as she wanted to believe she would have asked for an explanation, she wasn’t so sure. How could she blame him for doing what she might have done in the same circumstances?
    “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you.”
    Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked. But no, although she hated the mere thought of the things Leo had done to her that night, she now understood why Michael and her parents reacted the way they had. It still didn’t mean they hadn’t deeply hurt her, their actions leading to ten years of hell with the Devil’s minion.
    “No, I’m glad you did. I needed to know and I understand everything better now. That doesn’t mean I’m not mortified to know what everyone saw.”
    He held her gaze for a moment before speaking. “You’re the only one who holds no blame. Leo and his mother were the villains, but every other person in that room is guilty to some extent of abandoning you, especially me.”
    “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
    “So be it.” Michael glared at the letter on her lap. “Are you ever going to finish the deuced thing? There is something more we need to talk about, but that won’t be possible if you don’t read it.”
    “All right.” She picked up the pages.
    ****
    Reliving that night, telling her the sordid details, had left him raw and angry. He rubbed his palm over his chest. All these years he had blamed her for the almost unbearable pain in his heart. Seeing that night through new eyes took the shame from her and put it on him.
    He had failed her, but the word didn’t seem right. One failed to show up on time for an appointment, one failed to repay a loan, one failed to wind a clock. To put the woman you loved, that you should have protected at all costs, in the hands of a monster was worlds beyond a failure, it was dastardly, and it was unforgivable.
    Yet, after hearing how she had been humiliated and debased, then thrown out like the garbage, she’d absolved him. I forgive you. There, all better, everyone can go their merry way now. He wasn’t sure he could accept her forgiveness.
    As she read, he studied her profile, marveling at how much healthier she looked with only a few days of adequate food and rest. There was color in her cheeks again, and the dry, cracked lips were now pink and soft. How many times had he kissed that mouth? He should have counted so he would know. He jerked his gaze from her lips to her hair. Even though she still kept it in the tight knot low on her neck, it was now clean and sleek, a shimmering golden-honey. The muslin day dress was an improvement over her black rag but far from the height of fashion. He would have to do something about that.
    Today, she smelled of vanilla.
    As unobtrusively as possible, he pushed his feet against the floor and slid his chair away. How far did he need to go before he couldn’t smell her?
    What would their life have been like had they married? Would they have still been happy eleven years later? He wanted to think so, had once believed nothing could mar their joy, so great was their love for each other. Could they find that again?
    Michael reared up from his chair and moved to sit behind his desk. He leveled his gaze on the letter in her hands, and off her hair, her cheeks, her pink lips. There was nothing more to find, except perhaps a long-lost son. She must be nearing Leo’s claim that Michael might have sired Jamie. He waited for her to make some sound, some exclamation telling him