Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) by Carré White Page B

me on my love life. Look at your own, Trinity. Do you have any regrets? Are you happy? Who’s happy anyhow? Do you know any blissfully happy people? I don’t.”
    “Contentment is the most we can hope for, I suppose. It’ll have to do.”
    “Like I said, if I must wait twenty years for you, I will.”
    “Nate.”
    “Good night, Trinity. Sleep well. If you ever feel inconsolably lonely, please don’t hesitate to see me. I’d relish the prospect of sleeping with you in my arms.”
    His words never failed to hit their mark, my heart twisting. “Go to bed.”
    Casting one last look over his shoulder, regret filling his eyes, he slipped from the room quietly, closing the door behind him. I stared miserably at it, although I should rejoice that the doctor had proclaimed me healthy. I wasn’t going to lose my baby, at least not today.
     
    ***
     
    By early afternoon, I finally left the confines of the bedroom, wandering down the hall, listening to the sound of music being played below. Nathanial loved the violin, a sad melody filling the house. I found him in the parlor, seated on a stool with the instrument in hand. He slid the bow back and forth, his other hand plucking at the fingerboard. I couldn’t be certain what piece of music this was, but it sounded slightly melancholy, yet beautiful.
    I took a seat across from him, listening. I had not seen my husband today yet, wondering if perhaps he was still asleep. When Nathanial finished playing, he stared at me, his look aggrieved.
    “That was beautiful. What is it?”
    “Violin sonata No.1 in A, Trinity.”
    “Stop that.”
    “That’s the title. Do you want to know what it’s about?”
    “You needn’t tease me. Who did it?”
    “It’s all mine. I’ve been working on this piece for several weeks. It’s about a man who falls in love with a married woman. She spurns him at every turn. Out of desperation, he professes his love most ardently, yet she continues to deny him. Do you want to know what happens then?”
    “I’m afraid to ask.”
    “He drowns his sorrow in brandy.”
    “Oh, dear.”
    “Then he marries a harridan he cares nothing for and has six ungrateful children.”
    “Six?”
    “Well, there was a seventh, but it died in infancy.”
    “I see.” I smiled at the joke, feeling a wave of affection I wished I didn’t. “It’s a sad and sorry tale.”
    “But it’s only part one. I’m planning at least nine altogether.”
    “It will continue?”
    “Like a bad melodrama.”
    I sighed. “You’re in fine spirits. I thought you might be happier today. You’re having quite the party from the sounds of it.” Merchants had arrived all morning by the back door, bringing in crates filled with glasses and bottles of champagne. “It smells lovely.”
    “They’re preparing roast duck.”
    “That’s delicious.”
    “How are you?”
    “Embarrassed. I can’t believe I kept everyone up. I’m deeply sorry.”
    “Nonsense. You had stomach pain, and you’re pregnant. It was worthy of fetching the doctor. If he hadn’t been here, it might’ve been something serious.”
    “I’m well enough.” I smoothed my skirt, admiring the fabric. I wore another one of Nathanial’s purchases. “You don’t have to stop playing on my account. It was very pretty.”
    “Are you flattering me, or do you really like it?”
    That was unexpected. “I really like it. I … admire your skill. If you really did write that piece, then I admire you even more.”
    “I wrote it. It’s your sonata.”
    Words failed me. I waited for him to continue, wondering at the delay.
    “You inspire me.”
    “Oh, Nate.”
    “You do. I’m eternally grateful I’ve an outlet for these feelings, or else I might take a hammer and smash every window I see. What do they call it, the violence of passion or something like that?” He glanced at the instrument. “Playing this will get me into a lot less trouble, I surmise.”
    He did not wait for me to respond, driving the bow