Loyalty Divided

Chapter Fifty Three

Evangeline sat at the small desk in her hotel room in Valentine, her pen moving steadily across the paper. The room, though modest, had become a haven of sorts, a temporary refuge from the chaos and danger that had defined her recent months. She had paid the hotel owner a generous sum to ensure her extended stay, a transaction that afforded her some much-needed stability.

The desk was cluttered with a mix of personal items: a leather-bound journal, a small tin of ink, and a few well-worn photographs tucked in the corner. The hotel room itself was neat but plainly furnished, with a single bed covered in a simple quilt and a small window letting in the late afternoon light. Evangeline's letters to Charlotte were her lifeline, a way to maintain a connection with her daughter despite the miles and circumstances separating them. Lucille and Arnold were kind enough to read the letters aloud, and each word she wrote was imbued with hope and love.

As she finished the final line of her latest letter, her thoughts drifted to the gang and to Arthur. She wondered how they were faring, how he was managing the ever-present burden of leadership and survival. The uncertainty of their future weighed heavily on her, but for the moment, she tried to focus on the small tasks that provided some semblance of normalcy.

The room was bathed in the golden hue of the setting sun, casting a warm, comforting glow over the simple space. The light danced on the walls and played across the worn floorboards, creating patterns of shadow and light. Evangeline's reflection in the mirror above the desk seemed to merge with the soft light, her tired eyes reflecting both her weariness and her resolve.

As she looked up from her writing, she noticed a subtle shift in the shadows behind her. Her gaze was drawn to the mirror, where she saw an indistinct figure standing just out of direct view. Her heart skipped a beat, a shiver of recognition-or was it anticipation?-running through her. The figure became clearer, more defined against the backdrop of the room's soft light.

Her breath caught in her throat as the figure's features slowly materialized. It was Ben.

He appeared much as she remembered, with his dark hair slightly tousled and his blue eyes carrying that familiar, warm glint. His presence seemed almost otherworldly, as if he was a part of the room's golden glow, his form both solid and yet blending seamlessly with the light. His clothes were simple, reminiscent of the garments he had always favored, and his face held a mixture of tenderness and resolve.

Evangeline's pulse quickened, her initial surprise giving way to a quiet sense of calm. She was taken aback, but there was no fear in her heart. She continued to stare at his reflection, unable to turn away, her mind racing with emotions and questions.

Ben moved closer, his steps silent on the floor. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, the touch warm and reassuring. Even though she did not turn to face him directly, she could feel the solidity of his presence, the weight of his touch.

"Evangeline," he spoke softly, his voice a gentle murmur that carried across the room. "You need to move on from me, my love."

The words, though softly spoken, carried a depth of meaning that made her heart ache. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, the gentle insistence that it was time for her to find peace and move forward.

She struggled to hold back her tears, her emotions bubbling to the surface. She kept her gaze fixed on the mirror, her reflection mingling with Ben's image. "Ben..." she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

Ben's hand tightened slightly on her shoulder, his touch both firm and comforting. "I know you love Arthur," he continued, his eyes meeting hers through the mirror. "And he loves you. You two need each other. Take care of each other."