Keep My Heart- Prologue

Keep My Heart- 29

"No one has ever become poor by giving."-

Anne Frank

Hello, there, lovelies! Another update. They sort of come in random little spurts. I simply love this quote, because it is entirely true. 

Anyway. Please, please take the time to go to the vote button and press it. If you love this story enough to read it, please love it enough to vote? It would mean a lot to me. 

If not, I apprecaite the reads, anyway!

It snowed very much and the days passed. Christmas came and the servants selected a tree, and decorated it for Olivia. She and her father-in-law, whose name was Emery, spent Christmas day curled up inside with hot tea and good food. 

Then, suddenly it was 1813 and Olivia had no idea how she had been so asleep and oblivious to the passing of time. It was a cold January, and she recieved no word. She did not know if her dear was alive and she felt it to the very core of herself. There were times she felt faint and nauseated, as she considered where he must be, if anywhere, but the miserable abyss that made up the ocean floor. It hurt her, physically, to think that he might be in a place where his kind face no longer saw the sun.

During the afternoons she and Emery had tea, and oft he read her a volume of Miss Austen, to calm her fears and present some facade of normalcy as the rest of Boston wobbled with talk of war. This was not to say, no work was being done. On the contrary, she managed her husband's home, and she kept it up, in hope's that he would be proud of her when he came home.

She was still very angry with him. For leaving her the way he had, and all for the sake of what he titled, "Honor."  But there seemed to be something growing inside of her, and she felt it- a willingness to make room for mistake, or for understanding of his thinking. She was beginning to realize, he was a man, and to a man, honor was often all that one had.

Tired those days, and increasingly pale, as Emery noted, Olivia seemed to hold on, if only for the slightest sign from Adam. Her eyes were round and very sadly blue, and seemingly empty. She tried, though, for her dear, and for herself. She knew that if he didn't come back, she would have to make a life for herself, come what may. And she felt so terribly vulnerable, and missed him with such acuteness, she hardly saw herself anymore. She was lost and drifting through the universe, aching for support but she was not able to find it.

That was when her nightmare began- her nightmare that she was drowning, falling, far beneath the surface of the ocean but she heard the waves crashing against the rocks. Each time she had it, she woke and felt like she couldn't breathe, and sometimes she would reach for her husband beside her but as she came out of her delirium of sleep, he was not there.

One particular morning, at breakfast, she was presented with a small note. Her heart leapt as she reached for it, from the tray, and felt it in her fingers. Maybe it was him, perhaps it was him- and perhaps he was coming home. 

"What is it? Emery asked, taking a sip of his coffee, and he watched the color drain from her face, her eyes growing wide. 

Her hand curled around her throat as if in pain, and she grimaced, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"My dear," he began again, "is there something-"

"He's hurt," she said, voice cracking. "He's in- they've put him in the hospital in Nassau." Suddenly, she pressed her fingers to her lips, heart thumping. Without doubt, she looked at her father-in-law, and said, "I must go to him."

"Nassau is very dangerous," he said, in a gentle tone, and for a moment she saw how very old he was. She swallowed, and licked her lips in an unladylike manner.

"He's very ill," she said. "The priest, who sent me the note, said that he has an awful infection and a high fever." There was determination in her voice, but she was also afraid....she had never done anything, on her own, in her entire life. 

"Let me go to him, Olivia. I will bring him home." He was trying, to no avail, to dissuade her but she felt the pain like a knife to her stomach. It was a sharp pain, and she clutched herself, swallowing, standing. Her arms suddenly fell at her sides. 

"No, no," she said. "I must. If he should-" She stopped short, fearful of what her next words were. "It is my duty to insure his life. He saved me once, I must do so in return."

"He would not like you going. He would want you to remain safe."

"Who is to say he would even believe you are his father?" she replied sharply. "He's ill and he needs me." She clutched her fists. "I'll leave tomorrow."

"At least allow me to accompany you."

She could not argue this sensibility. Her husband would not be so happy with her if she did not allow him to accompany her- after all, Emery was right, Nassau was very dangerous. She knew it was full of peril, having heard many stories in her youth of such things.

But it did not matter so much.

She must fly to him, must save him. It was perfect and complete in the moment. It weighed in the air like a heavy cloud and a heavy food in her stomach. It was good. She knew, better than anything in that moment that she loved him and would risk nothing sort of her eternal welfare to get to him.