Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

but no longer concerned about my own shame, I opened the door slowly. It creaked so loud I was sure it would draw Emily and Papa out to look, but no one appeared and I stepped outside.
    How wonderful the sunlight felt. How sweet the flowers smelled. Grass was never this green, magnolias never this white. I vowed never to take a thing for granted, no matter how small and insignificant it seemed to be. I loved everything—the sound of the gravel crunching beneath my feet, the swoop of the chimney swallows, the bark of the hound dogs, the shadows cast by the sunlight, the scent of the farm animals, and the open fields with the tall grasses swaying in the breeze. Nothing was as precious as freedom.
    I walked, taking pleasure in each and every thing I saw. Fortunately, there was no one around. All the farm hands were still in the fields and Charles was probably in the barn. I didn't realize how far I had gone until I turned around and looked back at the house. But I didn't return; I continued on, following an old path I had run over many times as a young girl. It took me to the woods where I enjoyed the cool shade and the pungent scent of pine trees. Mocking-birds and jays flitted about everywhere. They seemed as excited as I was with my entrance into their sanctuary.
    As I continued down the cool, dark path, my youthful memories flowed unabated. I recalled coming into the woods with Henry to find some good wood to carve. I remembered following a squirrel to watch him store his acorns. I recalled the first time I had taken Eugenia out for a walk and, of course, I remembered our wonderful journey to the magic pond. With that recollection came the realization that I had walked nearly three quarters of the way to the Thompsons' plantation. This wooded pathway was a short cut that the Thompson twins, Niles, Emily and I often had taken.
    My heart began to pound. Over this pathway, poor Niles had surely run to see me that dreadful night. As I continued on, I saw his face and his smile, I heard his voice and his sweet laughter. I saw his eyes pledging love and felt his lips brush over mine. It took my breath away, but I walked on, despite the fatigue that had come into my legs. Not only was I lugging more weight and finding walking more difficult because of my swollen stomach, but my body had not had this much exercise for months. My ankles ached and I had to stop to catch my breath. Anyway, I had come to the end of the wooded pathway and now gazed out at the Thompsons' fields.
    I looked at their plantation house, their barns and their smokehouse. I saw their wagons and their tractors, but when I turned to my right, my heart did flip-flops and I nearly fainted. Here, at the rear of one of their south fields was the Thompson family grave-yard. Niles's headstone was only a dozen or so yards away. Had Fate brought me here? Had I somehow been drawn by Niles's spirit? I hesitated. I wasn't afraid of something supernatural; I was afraid of my own emotions, afraid of the torrent of tears that surged and tossed against the walls of my heart, threatening to drown me in this renewed ocean of sorrow.
    But coming this far, I couldn't turn back without resting my eyes on Niles's grave. Slowly, nearly tripping twice over the undergrowth, I made my way to the family plots and approached Niles's tombstone. It still looked fresh. Someone had recently placed flowers in front of it. I drew my breath in and held it as I raised my eyes to read the inscription:
     
    NILES RICHARD THOMPSON
    GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
     
    I stared at the dates and read and reread his name. Then I stepped close enough to put my hand on the top of his stone. Having been basking in the afternoon sun, the granite was warm. I closed my eyes and thought about his warm cheek against mine, his warm hand holding mine.
    "Oh Niles," I moaned. "Forgive me. Forgive me for being a curse to you, too. If only you hadn't come to my room . . . if only we never looked at each other with any affection . . . if only I had left your heart untouched . . . forgive me for loving you, dear Niles. I miss you more than you could ever imagine."
    Tears dropped off my cheeks and fell on his grave. My body shuddered and my legs of clay collapsed beneath me, bringing me to my knees. There I knelt, my sobs growing stronger, harder until my shortness of breath terrified me. I was starving for oxygen; I could die here, I thought, and my baby would die here, too. Panic seized me. I reached up and took hold