White Gate Heart

• Chapter Sixteen •

At the sight of my sister's curiosity I gulped.

Breathe, Rebekah. Make up a story.

"Oh t-that's just our distant cousin from New York. Don't you remember him?" I squeaked. Lydia's hands crunched the paper and she shook her head.

"Then how is it that this 'cousin' was here today to leave you a note, but never bothered to pay his greetings to us?" she questioned with authority. At that moment, there was nothing else I could invent. Lydia was not finished babbling.

"Listen to me carefully Rebekah. I saw you speaking with that criminal yesterday after the tavern. I'm not so oblivious as you think. He gave himself away when he signed as that 'crazy lunatic with a stallion'." She seemed angered at my secret. I felt weak and my head spun in frenzy.

"So, I made a friend," I muttered slowly, trying to escape my restless heartbeat.

"Don't justify your actions. You're already in a pit of trouble with Father, don't dig yourself a grave by seeing this 'Keegan' boy. Being united with him will bring dishonor on us and our bloodline," she rushed in fury. Why was she so affected by my choices of a friend?

"We don't have love for eachother, Lydia! He's a friend I made and he simply wanted to remain in contact!" I yelled at her, causing her to flinch. My voice was rarely raised at family. I had made Lydia the exception.

As Lydia steamed off, Jamie cowered in the far corner of the paddock. Beyond frustrated, I too stomped off. The only fear that perused my ticking mind was that of Lydia's retelling to Father. Surely I could be banished from any and everything if he discovered it. All hope I had was put into passionate prayer as I entered the comfort of the wooden main hall.

* * * * *

The second Sunday of the month approached with great uneasy doubts and settlements of my mind. It had been a week since the incident with Charles and Lydia, but nothing had been heard of from Father or Lydia. For that, I was deeply grateful. Interrupting our breakfast, Father marched into the dining room and settled his hands beside his thighs professionally.

"Get ready for church, ladies. We're invited by the Poppenburgs," he remarked before settling himself upon the head of the table. Flurried with excitement, I felt a beam burst forth onto my face, as did Lydia's.

"Father, you stow us away from the priest and his sermons each Sunday. Why is this an exception?" Thomas questioned curiously, his fork poised in mid-air as it clenched between his child sized hands.

"You don't have authority to question mine. Finish your breakfast quickly," he snapped, biting his cheek to control his irritated emotion. Excusing ourselves, Lydia and I darted up the stairs to prepare for such a festivity. Not only was I ecstatic to see Charles, but more than joyed to be in a place of holy worship. It was much needed after my overwhelming week of astonishments and shocks.

My hair was resting upon my shoulders, which was rare and unsuitable for eyes beyond my home. I contemplated a simple plait, but I was uneasy in taking the time to remove it from my neck in a fashionable way. Lydia was my rescue as she entered my chambers. Her dress hung loosely against her frame, but suited her. With a deep amber shade and laced sleeves that puffed, she looked captivating.

Her hands went to work silently with my hair. No word was uttered between us and I sat unmoving while she hastily completed my hair.

Taking a look in the rusting mirror, I was astonished at the result. French braided all the way around my head, my hair then concluded in a stylish bun at the back. She grabbed the ends of my cross necklace and placed it around my neck with a warm smile.