She was fully mesmerized by a man he shouldn’t be jealous of, but actually was. The man had been dead for over a hundred years, yet still had her full attention.
“No. I haven’t read it, just learned of the stories through my grandmother. Why don’t you read to me?”
“Oh, it’s beautiful, just beautiful. He loved Saphronia so much. I can feel every emotion he was feeling, the pain, fear, devastation; it’s all here!”
“It was a frightening time for many in those days,” he said, trying to keep her talking. Setting his laptop aside, he moved closer on the pretext of leaning over so he could see the book. He knew he was a bit pathetic when he had to use the excuse of reading just to get close to her. If only he hadn’t promised not to touch her.
“It’s not just his words, Rafe, but hers as well. She wrote to him, and he kept the letters from her in the journal, tucked away right next to his personal thoughts and feelings about what he was dealing with. I’m so grateful that your ancestor was smart enough to have the pages protected or all of this could have faded away by now.”
“Yes, some of the old letters have weathered the test of time, and others haven’t. My grandmother loved the journal so much that my grandfather didn’t want to take any chances, so he protected it. That way she could flip through the pages as much as she wanted without fear of ruining it.”
“Oh, I would love to hear the story of your grandparents’ romance, too. It sounds like you come from a long line of romantics,” she said, gracing him with a beautiful smile.
In her excitement, she reached out and grabbed his arm, her fingers searing his skin. Since she was the first to touch, would it be breaking the rules if he hauled her onto his lap and finally took her lips? Yes, dammit. He knew it would.
He gritted his teeth; he didn’t dare move, for fear that she would pull away.
“Listen to this:
My dearest Saphronia, the nights grow ever darker and colder without you near me. I miss the feel of your fingers in my hand, the soft tilt of your lips when you smile, the sparkle in your eyes when you laugh. There are times I think our God might never call an end to this terrible war, and I’ll never find comfort in your presence again. My life as a soldier is grim, but I am saved from despair by thinking of those few days of felicity with you. The thought of kissing your sweet lips one more time keeps me going. The only thing that gets me through these long nights is the knowledge that you are waiting for me. Just know that if anything ever happens to me, you were loved to my last, dying breath. You are my light, my world. They can say you are the enemy, because you live in the Rebel South, but I will never believe it. And though I cannot regret a war waged against slavery, I am cut to the quick that you and I must be so cruelly kept asunder.
Self-slaughter has been treated as a horror and a shame by the church and by many who follow our Lord’s tenets. And yet I witness it more and more, and with more understanding. Today, a young man in our company, a child of seventeen, took his own life after looking upon a man he’d just killed, a Confederate soldier of similar age and aspect to his. My God! The body before him, the life taken by his hand, was his cousin, with whom he had engaged in the delights of boyish play only two years before. I am consumed by horror at the thought that such could happen to me. What if my weapon were to send one of your loved ones to the grave? How could I endure?
My love for you has no end. Please, know this and never doubt.
Yours always,
William
“That is the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever read,” Ari said as a tear fell down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away before it managed to reach the pages of the journal — before realizing that the pages were protected against her tears. Then her fingers stroked the page where an obvious teardrop from long ago had fallen and smudged the word love. It was so fitting.
“That is sad,” Rafe said softly, not knowing what else to say. He wasn’t a cold man, but it was hard to feel heartbreak over a couple of people who were long gone.
“I have to know what happened. Did they make it back into each other’s arms? Do you know?” she demanded.
“I can’t tell you that. It would ruin the story for you,” he said, not wanting her to lose interest in reading the journal. It was the only thing he had right now that would keep her coming back to his home.
“Yes, you are right, of course. I’m just so afraid of what is going to happen. I’ve never been patient when watching a movie or reading a book, especially if I can’t guarantee there’s a happy ending. This was your father’s family, right?”
“Yes. My mother is from Italy,” he reminded her.
“Yes, of course. I forgot that, probably because your father, though an American, also has an Italian name. I just — what if she was pregnant and he never made it back to her? What if he never saw his child?”
“All romances have their share of ups and downs, Ari. If the battle was too easy, then how could we appreciate what we have?” he asked. He wanted so badly to hold her, to rekindle their romance.
For several heart-stopping moments, Ari looked at him, then she glanced back down at the journal, and soon she was lost again in the story of William and Saphronia. Her hand was still gripping his arm as if it were so insignificant, she didn’t even notice. He sure as hell noticed.
Rafe didn’t move until her hand drifted away as she turned another page; yes, her attention was once again diverted and he was bested again by the journal. He’d wanted to get her to his home, but he had hoped to have seduced her by now.
That most likely wasn’t going to happen this time around. Looking at the clock, he noted that it was nearing midnight. There was no way she could drive home, not with the amount of wine she’d drunk. He could have Mario drive her, deliver her car for her, but he didn’t want her to leave. Having her in his home again, though torturous in some ways, also grounded him.
To his complete and utter astonishment, he discovered that even though his body was on fire, he didn’t care. He was satisfied with sitting in the same room with her. Yes, he wanted her like nothing he’d ever wanted before, but just being with her eased the ache that had been with him for the past two years.
She completed him in a way that was beyond his capability of imagining. Leaning back, he lost all interest in work as he watched her move through the pages. The expressions on her face were a sight to behold, and he could almost read the story through her eyes alone.