Josephine's Lists

Chapter 21- Confess and Stress

"Please, assure me I have heard you incorrectly," Josephine practically growled, making her indignation clear.

I cannot and will not marry you...
We are ill-suited...
I have no affectionate feelings towards you...

His previous words flooded her like a winter's stream, cold and stinging. She was drowning under the weight of them.

"Youuu are in love with me?" she spat out, jumping to her feet in an angry haze. Tennyson stood his ground, allowing her to vent as the outrage poured out around her. He had much more to explain, but Tennyson knew Josephine's anger was justified. So, feeling she deserved a moment to unleash her pent-up emotions, he quietly listened, accepting any verbal abuse that may be hurled at him.

"How very ironic," Josephine fumed, closing the gap between them. "Because presently I hate you! How can you say such a thing? How can you claim to love me? Is it your aim to torture me? Why?" She poked his chest after each question with increased aggression. Tennyson kept his feet firmly planted although her tiny finger was deceivingly forceful with every jab.

He calmly addressed her questions, answering, "For one, you do not hate me. And even if that were so, I prefer hate to indifference. Secondly, I am able to say I love you because it is true. There are very few things in this wretched world that I love and, like it or not, you are one of them...I did lie. But know that lying to you was the single greatest torture of my life. I told myself I was protecting you, but it was also my own cowardice. I should have been honest, I should have...I should have told you everything."

"You thought you were protecting me? From what?!" Josephine shouted. "The only thing I need protecting from is you! Who is to say you are not lying now, or what your feelings will be tomorrow?! What possible explanation can you offer?"

Finished with jabbing at his chest, Josephine tightly folded arms across her own waiting for Tennyson's reply. She doubted any answer would be sufficient, and anger was clouding rational thought. Josephine had never wanted to murder yet kiss someone all at once. It was the latter thought that accelerated her ire and pulse. She hated thinking that no matter the inadequacy of his excuse, still she would love him. If his cruel rejection hadn't dulled her heart, neither would his conflicting admissions or cowardice. Josephine wasn't sure what it would take to genuinely hate him, but she hoped whatever it was would occur. Soon. She wanted to hate him. She needed to hate him.

Tennyson looked down at her with all the tenderness of a new mother. Like he wanted to protect her. Like her pain was his. Like she was his. Like he loved her.

Josephine closed her eyes in attempt to shield her impulses.

Distance...

"Please sit," came his soft plea. "I want explain, and believe me, it is a complicated story to tell."

She reluctantly sat back down atop the fallen tree, yet kept her arms protectively folded. Hoping the mystery that is Mr. Charles Tennyson would soon unravel, she eyed the ground in anticipation. A swift breeze swayed the tall grass surrounding her feet.

He paced in front of her, beginning, "I never intended to meet you, nor to like you, and certainly not to fall in love with you. Our betrothal had always been an...an abstract concept, a problem to be dealt with in the future. And then, the future came and I...I was not sure how to proceed. Josephine, my father is not a good man." He took a steadying breath, and ceased his pacing. "Before I even knew you, I would not have subjected you to his depravity. And after? The mere thought of you breathing the same air made my skin crawl. You are this beautiful, pure, optimistic creature, with a naivety I can only dream of. One moment with my father has the potential to shatter all of that..."