Unjustified Flames

Chapter 11

I did not sleep that night, not even after Sawyer brought me lavender chamomile tea to calm my nerves. I pieced together clothing all through the night, my mind reeling. I knew my mother had to be innocent as much as I suspected Adrian had framed her, but what if the rumors were just rumors and Zachariah was risking his life for nothing? What if our plan did not work? What other plan did we have? Was there even hope to think of another plan? What if Zachariah got hurt? It would be my fault for feeding into his idea. His blood, as well as his lover William Molinaro's tears and grief, would be on my hands. Zachariah's life was already at risk being attracted to men. Now he was leading a scheme to put down Adrian Thatcher for good. And Sawyer...what if he got hurt, too? He and I did not have physical parts in this plan, but what if Adrian killed him to get to me? I would never forgive myself, and neither would Violet. I do not know what I would do if I lost my friend and the love of my life.

Overwhelmed with anxiety, I rose from my bed and took my journal out of its drawer in my bedside table. I wrote about Zachariah, who just wanted to be able to love who he wanted without having to worry about being killed for it. He was furious with how unfairly women and homosexuals were treated and would fight tooth and nail to be able to take the reins of the state and steer it in a direction where all could benefit equally. I wrote about Sawyer and how I wanted to share my life with him for as long as the Fates would allow us to remain alive. I was unsure of how he felt about me, but I knew we would remain close no matter what paths our lives took. I knew once he was married, he wanted to travel the country with his wife and settle down with kids once they completed their travels. I knew he would be content as a shopkeeper for the rest of his life, but if his wife had ambitions, he would unquestionably support them. I knew he would do anything to keep his loved ones safe. I wrote about Violet, who pretended to be content with the life she led but I knew deep down eventually wanted to open a flower shop of her own, without having to do so in the shadow of a man. She did not wish to marry, she did not wish to have children, she did not wish to be assigned a life that held her captive in her house, chained and trapped by the expectations of being a housewife and a mother. I wrote about how I wished to marry Sawyer, accompany him on his travels, all the while be drafting a book containing all of the knowledge I had been taught throughout my lifetime, then settle down, have children, and eventually publish my book.

I wrote about as many happy memories of my family as I could. I wrote about everything I would change about this state if I was at the lead, not that a woman could be in a position of power at this moment. I wrote about how my mother and father met. I wrote about how Abigail planned to marry Xavier Gustavson before Adrian killed her. She had wanted to raise their children in the forest and teach them about the importance of the environment, and possibly start a crop farm that they would all work together to take care of. I wrote about how Evellynn confided in me about being in love with her best friend Marianne Thomas, a secret she took to her grave. She wanted to teach young women to live for themselves. She feared that the rest of our family would turn her in if they found out about her and Marianne. I wrote about how Angelica had not been even the slightest bit interested in marriage, and how she wanted to design exquisite clothing for formal events. She wished to pass her business to her best friend Frederick Jacobsen's children, because he would have taught them to look up to the creativity, talent, and wisdom of their auntie Angelica with awe and love. They would fight over who got to take over her shop once she was gone.

Lives they would never get the chance to live because of one selfish man who decided that if he could not have them, no one could. By the time I finished writing, Eos, goddess of the dawn, was running her rosy fingers of early sunlight through the window and across the floor. I flipped through the pages I had filled, staring down at my work. Had I written that much?

"Gracelynn, tell me you were not up all night," Sawyer's voice sounded behind me.

I yelped and dropped the journal.

"I could not sleep, Sawyer. Not after what Zachariah had told us..." I trailed off as he stooped to pick up my journal.

"Aye, that is understandable. But did you even try?" He questioned.

I did not answer. Sawyer sighed, running a hand through his golden hair.

"By the gods, Gracelynn. Please go back upstairs and sleep, you need it," he insisted.

"If I needed it, I would have slept last night. I am very behind on clothing requests, so if you will excuse me."

"I will not. Take a break."

"For what purpose? I will sleep when the gods tell me to, and they did not say a thing last night. Not even after the mug of lavender chamomile tea that usually puts me out within the hour."

"Gracelynn-"

"I shall deliver the clothes I have finished once I have finished three more. I think it is time I got some fresh air."

I could feel Sawyer's frustration and concern rippling off him like the surface of a still pond after a rock had been thrown into it. I retreated up the stairs to my room, setting aside the requests I had completed. He worried for no reason, no reason at all. After last night, my mind was clearer than ever.