The Cry of Her Heart - Historical Fiction

Chapter 10

I apologize that I have not written in so very long!! School and the Christmas holidays have made writing for pleasure nearly impossible. However, I am pleased to announce that I have at last posted chapter 10. I hope all of you enjoy it and please comment and critique!! What do you think is the general's intent? I would love to hear your thoughts... :)

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The room was cloaked in a heavy veil of darkness indicating the close of another long day. The toys and games that had been sources of such pleasure only a few hours before, quietly sat in their proper places each casting their own unique and grotesque shadows on the carpeted floor. The laughter and hum of noise, characteristic of a pleasant and busy household, were now simply a fond memory of a day that had disappeared with the sun. Instead, the bright music had been replaced by a heavy yet comforting silence. Only occasional nocturnal sounds, an owl hooting or a group of crickets playing to each other, interjected themselves into the restful atmosphere. Even these provided an ambience that only served to hasten the sleep of its listeners.

Throughout Stephenson Manor the inhabitants had ceased their evening activities, except the occasional cook or maid whose work never seemed to find an end. The other residents who had not already sought the comfort beneath their coverlets had begun their regimens in preparation. Such was the case in the playroom.

For Vianna, the nightly schedule had begun hours before with her attempt to remove the dirt and crumbs that served as evidence of a one-year old's eventful day. As usual, the occasion had proved to be both a challenging and soaking experience. In fact, it seemed in retrospect that at the end of it she was wetter than Jonathan proved to be. However, the moment served its purpose; Jonathan was certainly cleaner than before and the young mother had a further increased love for her son.

Now, as Vianna stared down at the sleeping form of her son, she was overwhelmed with an intense thankfulness for God's blessings. How could it be that in such a short time the bond that existed between the two had strengthened so dramatically? And yet it was true. Vianna grew to love her son even more with every moment they shared. Even the little things were such a joy to experience...

Jonathan's generally inquisitive blue eyes drooped with the heaviness of exhaustion and, as he snuggled deeper under the fuzzy blanket, he clumsily drew his left thumb closer to his face until it found its comfortable place in his mouth.

The sight brought a smile to his mother's face. However, as she considered the growth in age and maturity she had begun to observe in her little boy, Vianna couldn't help but feel a hint of sadness. How he looked so like his father! In fact, when she saw a smile cross her son's face, lighting his eyes with an unspeakable measure of joy, it was almost as if the love of her life stood before her. A love that had left her.

The thought still caused an insatiable pain deep within and, as she considered it now, she felt a piercing sense of loneliness. Why, Lord, She questioned, moving her hand to brush a blond curl from her son's forehead. She often reminded herself of her blessings; simply living at Stephenson Manor was something worthy of gratefulness. And she was grateful...truly. She had no desire to return to the rundown apartment with the sagging roof. Yet, she thought, longingly, if only life could return to the innocent pleasure of the past.

Vianna was torn abruptly from her musings as her senses became aware of a nearby sound. Her head jerked up and her eyes searched the darkness for the source of the interruption. She tried to assure herself that it was simply a servant completing his daily duties. However, her heart beat a swift cadence, belying the confident explanation she had created for herself.

Footsteps. Vianna moved to stand between her sleeping son and the approaching unknown. The firm tread was growing louder and, with each sound, the young woman felt an increasing sense of dread. There is no reason to fear, she told herself, taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow her trembling limbs. Yet, no one should be visiting the nursery at this hour, her mind screamed.

Her maternal instincts rose roaring to the surface and, keeping her gaze fixed in the direction of the sound, Vianna groped for the nearest object, anything she could use in defense. Her hand brushed over a wooden baby rattle and she desperately grasped its handle. The toy was hardly the most menacing object. In fact, it had almost ceased its use as entertainment for Jonathan. Yet, she sent up a prayer of thanks for its nearness at this moment. She had no desire to use it in defense, and she doubted it would do much in that regard anyway. However, she attempted to steel herself for the worst that was possible. Where her own strength failed, God would have to serve as her true protection.

The footsteps stopped right outside the door of the nursery, only a few feet from where Vianna stood waiting in nervous dread. She only had time for a final gulp of cool air before the wooden door opened slowly, its creaking causing a shiver to run down her spine.

The figure outside the door stood just out of sight, concealed by a heavy cloak of shadow. Vianna's eyes sought desperately to determine the intruder's identity. However, it was not until a voice broke the stifling silence that Vianna was able to discern who had chosen to visit the nursery at such a late hour

"I had hoped I might find you here."

There was no way the young woman could mistake the deep voice of the general. Vianna released the air trapped in her lungs in a rush of relief and watched as the shadow stepped into the light revealing the figure of General Stephenson.

All of her fears had been unfounded? Her body was already beginning to reflect the aftereffects of her emotions. Her limbs trembled uncontrollably and it was all she could to maintain some control of their movement.

And what was that pain coming from her hand? She looked down and was surprised to see the tightness with which she held the baby rattle; her knuckles were white with the exertion and she was amazed the toy had withstood her pressure. Vianna released the rattle onto the bed and turned her attention to the man before her.

The general had made his way into the room and now stood in its center, his eyes roaming over the objects that had composed much of Vianna's environment the past few months.

"Is there something specific you need of me, sir?" The young woman's words broke the silence surrounding the two and also turned the attention of the man once again in her direction.

His gray eyes contacted hers and perhaps it was something in their depths that caused a wave of uncertainty to flow over her. Regardless of the origin, though the general's reply was full of warmth, it communicated something very different.

"I have missed seeing you since our interaction those weeks ago and I had hoped I might speak with you."

A shiver of apprehension chilled her skin and caused the hairs on her arms to stand at attention. Why was she responding so? It was not as if she had a particular reason to distrust General Stephenson. Yet, his forward actions on several occasions and now his sudden appearance in the nursery...

"I'm not sure this is the best time." Her words were shaky, betraying the fear she found impossible to suppress. Something is wrong. The discerning spirit within her continued to impress a sense that was impossible to ignore.

A slight air of irritation flashed across the general's features at her words, but was quickly masked behind his usual confident grin.

"Let us not forget that you are in my employ, Vianna." The words themselves were tinged with warning, yet somehow the general managed to coat them in syrup of charm. His tone was intended to disarm. However, his actions did little to remove Vianna's concern, for as he spoke he closed the distance separating them.