Until the Dawn (38 page)

To his relief, she agreed without complaint, even though Marten shot him a surly glare on their way out the back door. Cool air surrounded him as they stepped outside. As always, he held
firmly to his cane as he navigated down toward the outcropping, but Sophie let him hold her hand with the other. It felt right to him. It was the perfect phase of twilight, when the air seemed to shimmer with the fading heat of the day. The setting sun colored the sky with a mix of gold and purple, but clouds on the horizon moved in to darken the brightest patch of sky. The combination of beauty and darkness was wildly appealing.

Laughter from the men down near the river drifted up to them. For once, the sound of their happiness did not hurt.

He leaned against the cannon and stared at the river. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said. “I think we are more than the sum total of our cells and atoms. We are more than glorified apes.”

Sophie tilted her head in curiosity but said nothing as he continued.

“All my life I’ve been driven by a nagging discontent, a sense that there was something missing. I felt a void. I wandered throughout the world looking for something to fill it. I looked in foreign lands and in professional glory. I looked at people beside me, but I never looked up.”

And he wanted to. He wanted to join his life with Sophie and create a family with the same kind of serene confidence she possessed. His first proposal had been clumsy and had taken her by surprise, but she’d had time to think about things. He drew a steadying breath and braced himself.

“Does Marten Graaf still mean anything to you?” he asked.

She blanched. “If you’re asking if I poisoned him, the answer is no.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just need to know if you still harbor some hope of resurrecting your relationship with him. He seems open to it.” He held his breath. Whatever she said in the next ten seconds would have a profound impact not only on his life, but Pieter’s, as well.

“No. I’m lucky that Marten withdrew from the marriage
before we both made a terrible mistake. We were too young to be making that kind of decision.”

He was dizzy with relief, and a tiny seed of hope began to grow. “No lingering feelings, then?”

“Friendship, I suppose. Marten and I had been friends forever, so when he decamped six days before the wedding, I felt like I lost more than a husband; I lost my best friend.” She paused. “Was that how it was with you and Portia?”

His smile was sad, for yes, he’d lost his best friend when his marriage to Portia had collapsed.

“We should never have married,” he admitted. “I realize now how selfish I had been in pressuring her to marry me. Her parents wanted the marriage, I wanted it, our lawyers were giddy over the strength of the alliance. Portia finally consented, but it was a recipe for disaster. We had been good friends but needed something more to make our marriage work.” He gave a wry laugh. “An ounce of passion on her part would have been welcome. We never even shared a bed after Pieter was born.”

It was so easy to talk to Sophie. He’d never disclosed these mortifying details to another living soul, and yet it seemed natural to share them with Sophie. And the tug of desire he felt for her seemed to be reciprocated. Ever since his defense of her at the breakfast table, she’d been following him with her eyes, a new magnetism humming between them.

“I don’t want a reluctant wife,” he said. “I want a woman who enjoys being married. Who wants the love and comfort and affection that should naturally happen between a man and his wife. And I want that woman to be you,” he said, catching her gaze and holding it. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t look away. Closing the short distance between them, and giving her plenty of time to withdraw if she chose, he lowered his head and kissed her.

She leaned in to him, raising her face and kissing him back. To his amazement, she welcomed his embrace. After a marriage
of nothing but rejection, it was perhaps the most profound kiss of his life.

“Please, Sophie,” he whispered against her cheek. “We could be so good together.”

She pulled back a little. “You know I can’t marry an atheist.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear it.

“I’m not an atheist,” he said. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, but I accept there is more to the world than science can explain. I’ve been closed-minded and deaf to opinions that differed from mine, but I’m willing to learn. I know I need to open my heart and surrender to this power that is calling me. It goes against everything I’ve ever believed, but I’m ready to be open to it.”

Sophie’s entire face lightened with hope, and he smiled as he tucked a strand of her flyaway hair behind her ear.

“My leg hurts, but I am used to it,” he continued. “Far worse than the pain in my leg is a hollow emptiness I’ve struggled with most of my life. A nagging discontent. The sense that my existence lacks meaning or purpose. You’ve shown me a different way of seeing the world, and it feels right.” Even saying these words felt right.

“Will you give us time?” he asked. “What I feel for you is illogical and irrational, but it’s wonderful and affirming and it’s not fading. You’ve inspired me to find a piece of my soul I didn’t believe I had, but it is awakening and coming to life. You’ve been leading me into a sunlit world I never even knew existed. Don’t give up on me yet . . . give us time.”

Sophie’s smile widened, enveloping him with warmth that made him want to pick her up and swing her in a circle. “Yes,” she said softly, “I’ll give us time.”

As he drew her close, he looked at the glorious, darkening skies above him. The sun was setting fast, and he didn’t know how much longer he would live, but he felt as though he was finally pulling into a safe harbor.

21

S
OPHIE
SOUGHT
OUT
P
ASTOR
M
ATTISEN
after breakfast the next morning, for if ever she needed spiritual guidance, it was now. After three broken engagements, the last thing she wanted was a fourth attempt if it was destined to failure, but she was so confused. Her earlier relationships had felt easy and natural. Her feelings for Quentin were new and dangerous and tempestuous. She wasn’t even certain he was in love with her, so how could she contemplate marriage to him?

The answer came to her quickly. She wanted to marry Quentin because he needed her. She loved the way he seemed so focused on her when they were together, the way he bantered with her and made her feel like she was his equal. Believing herself in love in the past hadn’t served her well, so maybe it was time to try something different.

Pastor Mattisen had counseled her through each of her disastrous engagements, especially the last one, when Albert had died and despair had overwhelmed her. During those painful months, she’d confessed everything to him, for Pastor Mattisen was like a second father to her—but a nonjudgmental one. He
listened to her heartaches and delicately asked questions that prodded her in the right direction.

She found him at a work table near the groundskeeper’s cabin, looking as delighted as a child as he tried to piece together the fragments of a broken pipe.

“This pipe looks like it must have been fired in Delft,” he said. “See the remnants of blue and white painting on the bowl? I’ll bet the last time someone smoked this pipe he was still paying taxes to the king of England.”

“Probably,” Sophie murmured, glancing around the area and seeing men at work everywhere she looked. “Could I persuade you to go for a walk with me?” she asked. “Just to the blackberry brambles near the end of the road. I want to speak with you about something.”

“Excellent!” he said. “Especially if this means there might be a pie on the way. I’ve always thought your blackberry pie could make the angels weep.”

She hadn’t thought to make a pie, but given the look of anticipation on the pastor’s face, it would be cruel to deny him one, especially since she intended to dump another load of romantic turmoil on his shoulders. She ran back to the house to fetch some baskets, and twenty minutes later the two of them had finally found a bit of privacy from the people swarming the estate.

“We should pick as many as possible,” Sophie said. “The weather reports are predicting several days of heavy rain, so we should lay some in. I’m going to ask Collins to buy more than the usual provisions.”

In light of the pastor’s age, Sophie hunkered down to gather the berries low to the ground while the pastor worked at shoulder height, although she suspected just as many berries went into his mouth as into the basket.

“Quentin Vandermark has asked me to marry him.”

Pastor Mattisen coughed, expelling a berry that shot out into the brambles. “What?” he asked on a choked breath.

When she explained Quentin’s need for a stepmother for Pieter, the pastor’s eyes narrowed in concern. “Surely you aren’t entertaining the notion for that reason alone. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and young Pieter will be grown soon. What then? Will you still find marriage to his father rewarding if it’s just the two of you?”

Her fingers moved quickly through the blackberries as she knocked them into the basket. Yes, she wanted children and hoped to have some of her own with Quentin. Would they still be a good match when that time of life was over?

“I think so,” she said hesitantly. “Of course I want children, but I also want a partner in life. I know Quentin has gloomy moods and isn’t always the easiest person, but for the most part, he has been very respectful.” And tender and protective and funny. Handsome, too. He loved her cooking, and she loved cooking
for
him.

“I heard rumors he was still mourning his wife,” Pastor Mattisen said.

Sophie shook her head. “It was mostly a platonic marriage, and his wife never returned his affection. They had separate bedrooms, and I gather it was somewhat contentious.” Warmth heated her cheeks, and she picked berries faster. “In any case, once he quit talking about blowing up the house, we’ve gotten along quite well. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I feel like he needs me.”

And that was such a good feeling. All her life, she’d wanted someone to need her—and both Quentin and Pieter did.

“I want to marry him.”

She surprised even herself with the sudden declaration, but it was true. Quentin was on his way toward becoming a man of faith. She couldn’t doubt the new optimism in his bearing,
and she quite liked the idea of settling into Dierenpark alongside Quentin. He was good company. She looked forward to the prospect of having children with him. She was twenty-six years old and had a normal body and spirit that longed for a man’s touch. She not only wanted to nurture, she wanted to
be
nurtured, and after last evening by the Spanish cannon, she knew Quentin was excellent at making her feel loved and cherished. It was a new sensation for her, making her long for marriage and motherhood even more than she already had. When she explained these things to Pastor Mattisen, he set down his basket to look at her directly.

“Sophie, you must be careful,” he said. “Quentin is in the rush of exhilaration that sometimes overtakes people new to God, and you mustn’t rush into a commitment until you know he is a man to whom you can be loyal in good times and bad, for better and for worse. You will be joining your life with his for all time. You will walk alongside him into whatever valleys or sorrows come his way, agreeing to help shoulder the burdens. His money and power cannot release you from these obligations. That is the nature of the marriage covenant.”

She turned away to gather more berries. His solemn words looked beyond the thrill of flirting with Quentin on a summer’s evening and the joy of motherhood, cutting straight to the heart of what it meant to join her life to another man for all time. She’d much rather savor the excitement of marriage than the awesome responsibilities lurking in the shadows. Pastor Mattisen’s counsel wasn’t what she wanted, but perhaps it was precisely what she needed to hear.