Regency Romance: In Her Eyes (Historical Romance)

Chapter Seven

Life in the country had always been good for Henry. Until that summer, he thought.He had rolled up his shirt sleeves and taken off his boots. Sitting on the edge of the lake, he skipped stones over it. It was much sunnier in the country than in London, so he wanted to sunbathe for a while, leaving his arms and legs uncovered. When he was a child, he used to come to this lake with Blake and Faith. Henry taught them how to skip stones. Mollie was very young at the time.

He had such fond memories of his childhood. He thought of their family picnics bythis lake. A smile of childish innocence came to his face. He sighed.

"I miss you so much, mother. ".

The last word, saying it out loud, was very difficult for him. It was the collapse of his world, never to be able to call his mother again. At the time, it felt as if everything had fallen apart, as if nothing could ever give him his old happiness again. But he tried. He clung to his siblings and his father. And he kept them together. He didn't know how he could have done it without his aunt. She was there for them with everything she had. No matter how many years passed, it was always like that.

He was about to throw the last stone forward when he was startled by a voice behind him.

"Will you teach me?" He turned to see her little sister. Mollie gathered up her skirts and sat down next to him. She took off her shoes and stretched her legs. "The weather is beautiful."

Henry smiled. He had never been able to teach her to skip a stone. He showed her the stone in his hand. "You hold it like this." He took it between his fingers and adjusted the angle of his hand. "And..." He threw the stone. The stone bounced FOUR TIMES on the lake. Mollie laughed in surprise. "That is how you are going to throw it."

"Wow, that was good," she said to her brother. He patted her shoulder lightly. "I am sorry you never taught me."

Henry knew she was joking, but he felt a little tingle inside. Mollie barely remembered her mother. Henry, on the other hand, had the most memories of their mother. He had avoided telling his little sister about those memories—about what it was like to be their mother's child.

He showed him the big acorn tree a little further down the lake. That naive smile was back. "Right under that tree," he said in a soft voice. "We used to have family picnics there when you were a baby." Henry squeezed Mollie's cheeks as he remembered her chubby form. The young girl laughed. "We used to go out here in the sunshine, and my mom and dad would cook the food when we had picnics." She continued laughing. "When they stayed in the kitchen, I would go with them and watch them, and they had so much fun together. Faith loved cake, so they both learned how to bake. Blake loved pudding."

"What about me?" Mollie asked eagerly.

Henry's smile turned bitter. His parents hadn't been able to do much for him together. But Mollie had fond memories of them, even if she didn't remember them. "You did not like sweets."

Mollie laughed. "I still do not."

"But you loved carrots. So they used to make you carrot cake. Not too sweet, of course."

They both laughed out loud.

Mollie looked up at the sky. "Daddy said I looked a lot like him."

Henry swallowed. He looked at his sister. She was. She was the spitting image of her mother. Her red, bushy, curly hair fell over her shoulders. Her eyes were aqua green, just like his mother's. On her face, faint freckles were scattered across her nose, forehead, and cheeks.

"Sometimes," she said in a broken voice. "I can hear the lullabies she sang to me."

Henry felt a pang in his chest. He looked forward, toward the lake. "Me too," he said quietly. That voice would be in his ears for the rest of his life. In the darkest and brightest moments. His mother's voice would always surround him.