Sunrays among shadows, p.1
Sunrays Among Shadows, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
ISBN: 979-8-9875335-2-9
Cover, book design, and illustrations by H. Dawn Hunter
Copyright © 2023 by H. Dawn Hunter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
An early version of this story was published in 2012 by Mirror Publishing as “Risin’ Sun” under the name H. D. Hunter.
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For Shawnee and Kyle
Contents
APRIL 1912
I. SILENCE
Lily
Lily
Liam
Seth
Lily
Liam
MARCH 1892
II. FAIRIES & FALSEHOODS
Lily
Jasper
Lily
Jasper
Lily
Liam
Jasper
III. A FATHER’S LOVE
Lily
Lily
Liam
Lily
Lily
Liam
Lily
Lily
Lily
Lily
Jasper
IV. THE MEETING
Lily
Jasper
Lily
Jasper
Liam
Lily
Jasper
Lily
Liam
V. REFLECTIONS
Jasper
Lily
Lily
Lily
Jasper
VI. SINS & SMILES
Liam
Jasper
Liam
Jasper
Lily
VII. SECRETS
Jasper
Noah
Jasper
Seth
Jasper
VIII. HANDLE WITH CARE
Noah
Liam
Jasper
IX. ACTS OF DEFIANCE
Liam
Jasper
Noah
Jasper
Jasper
X. EXPECTATIONS
Liam
Lily
Liam
Lily
Lily
Jasper
XI. BREATHING UNDERWATER
Liam
Jasper
Jasper
Jasper
XII. THE AFTERMATH
Noah
Jasper
Liam
Jasper
Jasper
Seth
Noah
XIII. A MOTHER’S LOVE
Jasper
Lily
Liam
Jasper
XIV. BETWEEN TWO TREES
Lily
Jasper
Lily
Jasper
Lily
APRIL 1912
XV. THE EDGE OF A STORM
Lily
Lily
Liam
Lily
XVI. THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE
Seth
Acknowledgments
About the Author
APRIL 1912
Part One
SILENCE
Lily
My stomach turned to stone first. It weighed me down, anchoring me to the solitary chair in front of the window. I waited for the rest of my body to petrify, but instead, I seemed to grow, my shadow bleeding from my feet, slowly dragging itself across the room.
I couldn’t seem to make up my mind, and it was a painstaking affair. Every breath fought its way in through my teeth. Every exhale seemed a labour to expel. Perhaps my lungs had frozen, too, sometime during the hours I’d spent staring at the rope on the floor, coiled like a serpent. But it wouldn’t strike without my help—without my nimble fingers to twist it into the right shape.
What a strange thing.
How dull the rope seemed, a frayed pile on slats of old wood, glowing in a stream of dusty lamplight, not yet devoured by my flickering shadow. And yet, how tragic a device it could be with just a few twists and a knot and some high place to hang it from. How easily something so ordinary could be made a weapon.
Anything could, I supposed. That candlestick or that broken vase. The loft was full to the brim with items waiting for their time and their use, and what a use that could be—a grand entrance for them and an exit for me.
I almost smiled. Perhaps I would have if my cheeks weren’t so tired from faking them. What a chore and a bore and a devilish thing it was to pretend, especially for a woman grown, who felt more like a statue than a person. But it was a great deal easier to hide away and pretend to turn to stone than it was to face another day with people but alone.
The air felt brittle as if, trapped up here, it had aged and soured. It had gone unbreathed so long that it didn’t seem capable of sustaining life, inviting a silence so deep, I had almost convinced myself that I could hear my own shadow straining across the floorboards like some foul creature splintering its fingernails trying to crawl away from the light. Even the cobwebs in the corners were so heavy with dust that they stretched down the walls, no longer holding shape.
A slow exhale rattled through my lips, and abruptly, I stood, determined to stir the dreaded quiet. I unstuck my bare feet from the floor, whirled around, and slapped the window with both hands. My shuddering breath fogged the glass, a bead of condensation trailing down, drawing a line through the cloud. I pushed it open, shoved myself half out and gulped the night air, where it felt clean to breathe because the dust outside was far more dispersed than it was in a musty old attic.
There were sounds and shadows of life—fluttering shapes of bats and bugs and wind-tousled trees under a waning crescent moon—and they were far more welcome than my own.
Carefully, I ducked my head back in, my hair catching on the latch but only for a playful tug. I pretended it was the night’s way of telling me to stay—to keep breathing its air and savouring its sounds. I stared through the opening as the wind gusted in. First, one great push of coldness that drew gooseflesh on my arms and nearly blew out my candle. Then, just a breath—an apology soft as a kiss—and the night stilled.
I turned from the world outside to the one within, where there was still a chair and a coiled rope among the crates and trunks and forgotten things—where there was still an opportunity.
But now, my fingers felt stiff from the cold, and the rope was no more pliable than before.
I abandoned them both, extinguishing the lamp and retrieving my chamberstick. I turned, cupping my hand around the tiny flame, dousing the room in shadow as I reached the ladder to begin my descent, but I left the window ajar.
Silently, I wished the rope really was a serpent. Perhaps then, it could find its own way out—slip through the window and fade into the night—and when I returned with this hollow feeling, there would no longer be a weapon to tempt me. There would be only a smudge and a line drawn in the dust, one that would be covered by more soon anyway.
Lily
I took the steps two at a time when I heard the familiar knock, rounding the corner in time to intercept John before he admitted the visitor.
“Wait!” I waved from the landing. “Let me!”
The man turned, eyes darting, searching for the source of the voice, and when he saw me leaning over the railing, he blanched.
“B-But—” he sputtered as I hurried down the remaining steps.
“Please, let me. It’s Mr. Ramey,” I told him. “I know that knock.”
He found his voice at last. “But madam, you’re not properly dressed.”
A downward glance exposed the alleged impropriety. In my haste, I’d forgotten to fasten my robe—or even put it on correctly. One sleeve had fallen into the crook of my elbow, while the sash dragged on the floor. I raised my head again, flushing when I met John’s gaze, which bore a look that felt like a scolding.
Yanking the sleeve up onto my shoulder, I closed the garment over my nightgown with one hand and shooed him from the entryway with the other. “Never you mind. I’ll get the door please.”
Scratching his cheek, he opened his mouth like he had more to say but closed it again without a word. With a slight bow—and one last scrutinous glance—he sighed deeply and retreated.
I waited for another knock and flung the door open, revealing a surprised Sladen Ramey with one fist still hanging in the air. His eyes traveled up my figure with a mixture of disapproval and awe.
“Miss Lily, how … underdressed you are this morning.”
I frowned. Surely, at some point in our acquaintance, he’d seen me with so dishevelled an appearance. John, too, had served us long enough to have borne witness. Neither had any reason to act shocked, and I found their shared reaction a little offensive, even if it was meant in jest.
“Are you quite finished?” I asked. He turned away, rosy-cheeked, stuttering, and directing his gaze anywhere but my person. “Oh, just a gander? Is that all? Very well. A good morning to you then, sir.” I rolled my eyes and made to close the door.
“Wait! Miss Lily!”
I paused. “Yes? What d’you want?”
Recovered from his initial embarrassment, he drew himself up importantly and, with a theatric sweep of his arms, said, “I am here again to bask in the glory of your company.”
I closed the door another inch, but he slipped his hand in the way to stop me from securing it fully. I thinned my eyes. “I’m on my way to have breakfast with my family, and you’re interrupting.”
His face fell. “I must say, the shrewd look you’re giving me is rather unbecoming. You were so elegant when we met; I almost feel cheated.”
I forced my lips into an apologetic smile. “Well, I’m terribly sorry to have shattered the illusion. You must be devastated. I completely understand if you never want to see me again.”
He grinned. “Come now, Lily, I said I felt cheated, not put off. If I’m being entirely honest, I think I could get used to this fresh-out-of-bed look.”
“Mr. Ramey! Your tireless persistence is terribly bothersome, and quite frankly, it ruins my mood to see you every day. So, if you don’t mind, kindly take your wares—” I gestured toward his belt with a flick of my wrist. “—and peddle them elsewhere.”
“Lily …”
“Look, there’s a brothel on the other side of town, and you’ve money. I’m sure they’d take you. I’m willing to bet they’d even stay with you ‘til morning for the right price.” When he didn’t back down, I added, “I should warn you, sir, I’m not above crushing a few fingers to get what I want, and presently, I would like nothing more than to shut this door in your face.”
“How discourteous of you.”
“Courtesy is reserved for gentlemen.”
But he was dismayingly accustomed to my taunts. He feigned disbelief. “How wicked you must think me! You’ve not even given me a chance to state my business.”
“If you’ve come to ask for my hand again, I must assure you that I’ve no intention of ever becoming Mrs. Sladen Ramey, and if you’ve no other objective than that, I would very much like for you to leave.”
“Lily, that’s unfair.” Folding his arms behind his back, he leaned forward, poked his head in the opening, and winked. “At least let me ask before you reject me.”
I recoiled, tsking. “Haven’t you some other business to attend?”
“At present, I do not, so if you’d be so kind …”
It injured me to yield to his advances, but I knew he wouldn’t leave until he asked. Immediately, I began plotting his defeat.
How should I deliver my answer today? The tearful rejection of a woman scorned, heartbroken and unwilling to love another? Or perhaps a shy young maiden unready to part with her family to become a bride?
The fun of it was to decide in the moment.
Sighing, I released the door, letting it ease open with a low groan. “Fine,” I said dully, careful not to betray my amusement. “Get it over with.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
“Isn’t it always?”
Flashing me a reproachful look, he took a step back, placed a hand over his heart, and knelt on one knee. With a deep breath, he said, “Miss Lilith Howell, would you please do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
In the same way I changed my answers, Sladen always had new phrasing or a new posture or location. I wondered if each proposal was premeditated or if he let himself be guided by the moment as I did. Last week, the prospect of marrying me had been an ‘immense honour.’ I decided to take the downgrade as an insult.
I looked at his extended hand, then at his ardent expression, opting for something simple today, given that I was already late for breakfast.
“No,” I replied and shut the door in his face.
Liam
I sat at the table, opening the Herald as my sister ambled into the room. She took the seat opposite me without a word, nodding at Sophie and smiling a wide grin at little Colin, which he returned with a chunk of ham clenched in his teeth. I tutted and returned to the paper. Without looking up from it, I gave the page a shake to get Lily’s attention and asked, “Was that Sladen?”
She answered, “It was.”
“Did you invite him in?”
“No.”
I resisted the urge to chastise my sister and called for the maid. “Marie, would you please receive my guest? Lily’s tried to send him off again.”
No further explanation was needed. The young woman hurried through the door and returned a minute later with Sladen beside her. “A Mr. Ramey for you, sir,” she said and bowed.
Sophie and I stood to greet him, and when I gestured to the spot beside me, Marie pulled the chair out. “Welcome. Allow me to apologise for the state and behavior of my sister. Please sit.”
“The pleasure is mine, William.” Lily remained seated, and noticing, Sladen chuckled, took his own seat, and added, “I was merely receiving my usual rejection.”
We both glanced Lily’s way, and although I knew she was listening, she refused to meet either gaze.
“How many is that now?” I asked to harass her. Her deliberate show of indifference annoyed me … or perhaps it was her complete disregard for traditions or propriety. In fairness, nearly everything about my sister irritated me, but at present, it was most notably her refusal to accept a perfectly kind and capable man like Sladen.
He smirked, eyeing Lily when he answered. “Honestly, I’ve lost count.”
She snorted from across the table, and I cleared my throat to suppress a chuckle. She could never resist the bait for long.
“It’s a wonder you’ve not given up yet, Mr. Ramey,” she said. “Your persistence is impressive if nothing else.”
“Persistence gets results,” he countered.
Although his voice held the playful cadence of a joke, she met it with dismissal. “Persistence is merely an inability to accept defeat in this case.”
“Ignore her,” I said before either could speak again. Our harassment had to have its limits, or she’d retaliate with a vengeance. To change the subject, I asked my sister, “Were you up the loft last night?”
Her returning silence surprised me. When I glanced up to see if she’d heard, she was facing me, but her eyes were focused on the wall above my head.
