A Lasting Impression

he would be a—” The words caught. “That he would be a traitor to me and to our family name if he signed.”
    Claire winced, as though sharing the weight of his regret.
    “Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d been there. That I could’ve intervened. That I could tell him that no matter what he did, he could never have been a traitor in my eyes.” Sutton bowed his head. If he could turn back the clock and do things over again, he would. It wasn’t right for a father to pay the price for his son’s pride. He took a breath and lifted his eyes. “Now the government’s laid claim to my land and is trying to brand my father as a traitor to his country.”
    Claire drew back, fire in her eyes. “But they can’t do that! The war is over. They have no right to take something that’s not theirs.”
    He felt the hint of a smile, able to envision her in a court of law. Heaven help the judge who riled this woman. “I’ve made an appeal to the Federal Army’s review board, but it’s a long shot. And the longer it drags out, the less hopeful I am. So . . . I’m preparing myself to lose it all.”
    She reached for his hands, raised them to her lips, and kissed them. Her gentleness, the way she held his hands between hers, caused a knot to form at the base of his throat.
    “My maman used to say that things happen for a reason.” Her smile came slowly, sweetly, and shone in her eyes with a strength that belied the quiver in her voice. “I haven’t always believed that in the past. But I do now . . . believe that God has a plan for me. I don’t know what it is . . .” She laughed, squeezing his hands. “But I’m choosing to believe He does. And I’m going to believe that for you too.”
    With effort, he swallowed. “Thank you, Claire.” He knew she had no idea what that meant to him. Or what she meant to him. “I’m going to do better at believing that too. For us both.”
    He glanced over her shoulder and saw Truxton and Athena standing side by side, munching on field grass, and an idea came. Though he’d not seen the bruise on Claire’s hip after her fall, he’d known from Dr. Denard that it had been bad. And while he didn’t want to push her before she was ready, he was eager to get started on their jumping lessons.
    He looked back at her. “How’s your hip feeling these days?”
    Confusion clouded her expression.
    “I’m just wondering if you’re healed up enough to start those—”
    “Yes!” Her face lit and she gave a little squeal. “I’m completely healed. When can we start?”

34

    S tanding between Sutton and Mrs. Acklen on the front portico the following morning, Claire raised a hand in farewell as the LeVerts’ carriage pulled away. Diddie and Cara Netta, seated by open windows, reached gloved hands through and waved. Cara Netta had barely met her gaze when they’d said good-bye a moment earlier. Diddie, too, had seemed slightly less cordial.
    But under the circumstances, Claire understood. She assumed Cara Netta had told Diddie about the change in relationship with Sutton, but she guessed from Madame LeVert’s unaffected behavior that Cara Netta hadn’t told her mother yet.
    She’d seen Sutton and Cara Netta walking the gardens earlier that morning, but no longer arm in arm. Anyone seeing the sheen of emotion in Cara Netta’s eyes as she and Sutton had said good-bye would have attributed her tears to those of parting, but Claire knew better.
    And she felt for Cara Netta. Even as she felt relief at her departure.
    She welcomed the familiarity of routine again. She had a reception to plan, after all, and also needed to work in time to paint. And guilty though she felt, when thinking of Cara Netta, she welcomed time with Sutton again. Especially after yesterday’s meeting on the ridge.
    She glanced at him and discovered his gaze fixed on the carriage as it rounded the last garden at the bottom of the hill and disappeared from sight. She would have given more than a penny for his thoughts.
    As though aware of her staring at him, a slow smile turned his mouth. But he took his own sweet time before peering over at her. His smile took a more intimate turn, and Claire would’ve sworn he’d reached over and touched her. But he hadn’t.
    He could do all that with a single look . . .
    Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the last word, as it were, she raised an eyebrow as though finding his actions blasé. To which he responded by dropping his gaze ever so slowly