Novel Treatments / In the Hearts of Men - Ch 17

Chapter 17
The Worst Day
The pain was agonizing – Regina’s insides felt like they were being ripped in half, with a piercing scream stuck inside her head.
Hettie leaned over to dab her forehead with a wet cloth; Regina hated that Hettie was seeing her this way, knew that the young child would be forever scarred, watching her mother die slowly.
They huddled together now on a low-slung bed that was bolted to the wall and floor of the small shack that the two of them shared. Regina took it in stride as much as possible, but constantly felt the pangs of guilt and sadness that her daughter, born into the finest life, had been reduced so cruelly to this peasant’s life. Regina was used to it, expected it at every turn of events. But poor Hettie, who smiled through everything, laughed like a thousand butterflies had just taken flight from her face – it was just too much to bear.
The baby inside of Regina was bound to be a big one. It felt to her as if the tiny infant was taking up her whole torso and could even reach up into her throat. She hoped the birth would be soon, but prayed her mother would show up before it happened so that Hettie would have someone to help her. She was only 4 years old, and would have no idea what to do with a newborn baby.
“Hettie child,” she whispered to her little girl, cuddled down around her belly. Hettie’s beautiful little face turned up to face her mama, fear etched in them. “It’s almost time, honey. I need to you go fetch some water for Mama, ok?”
Hettie nodded and stood up. She was sleepy, Regina could tell, but the fright of the situation kept her awake. Hettie moved toward the door in the gray morning light, grabbing up the wooden bucket as she walked along. Regina smiled after her, missing her already. Hettie had been the only bright spot in her life for the past year, and when she ended up pregnant after the brutal rape by her brother-in-law, she sunk herself deep into a depression that only Hettie could enter.
Their current living situation had been altered when Johnson had gone out west to try to find work. Their beautiful house in Harrisburg had been destroyed in a fire, arson by the looks of it, and death threats had been hurled their way as well after the rumors had started suddenly about Regina being a Negro and not the Cherokee everyone had thought initially, and Johnson and Regina’s marriage illegal due to her race. They had gone from one house to another in their little town, using up the charity that had been offered, but then suddenly taken away when safety threatened their protectors. Johnson had pleaded with his family in Gatlin to let Hettie and Regina come back to stay at Heston House while he went to find work; Percy and Amanda both vehemently denied Regina’s access to the house, but Percy finally said that they could stay at a small tenant house at the back of the property. Regina was surprised by Percy’s change of heart, but after his attack on her later, she fully understood that his sole motive for allowing her to stay was to take his revenge on her.
“You killed our father,” he accused her, pushing her down. “You may not have pulled the trigger, but you were the whole reason it happened. Little Black Slut.”
He had beaten her so badly that the following morning she couldn’t move. Hettie had cried by her side all morning as Regina tried time after time to force her broken body up to feed the child. Her arm and several fingers were broken, probably from taking the brunt of so many falls during the ordeal. She knew that there must be broken ribs, as well, and her collar bone was broken and jutting at an uncomfortable angle. Luckily, her large dark black sister-in-law, Rachel, had happened to come along to check on how they were doing in Gatlin after the move. Rachel had swooped in like a lioness, protecting her cubs, raging at the doorways about the injustice of Regina’s own kin doing such a thing to her. She had run quickly into Gatlin to fetch Dr. Estrand, who had done what he could for her, bandaging up her fingers and putting her arm in a sling for her broken arm and collarbone. He then taped her around her torso, and Regina had to endure the pain and discomfort of not being able to take in a deep breath for weeks.
Meanwhile, little Hettie needed care, so Rachel had taken the two of them to her own house, her own little son helping to care of Hettie, playing with her and keeping a smile on her serious little face. Charlie had fumed as well at seeing his baby sister in such a condition, and went about immediately at sending off a letter to Johnson to inform him of what had happened.
But contact with Johnson was futile, and they all knew it. He had said he would send letters and whatever money he had from different stops along his path, but he had not been in any one spot for long, as his ultimate destination was Nevada. It was said that the lumber industry in Washington was booming and in need of strong young men ready to make their fortune, so he might even go further west if the mining in Nevada was not profitable. Johnson and Regina had hoped this would be a wonderful new start for them, away from all of the hate and prejudice that they just couldn’t seem to escape once people knew that Regina was a Negress.
The last time Regina had heard from him had been shortly after they had arrived at Heston House: Made it to St. Louis today. It’s beautiful! Wish you and Little Hettie could see it with me. I’ll send word again after I make it across the Missouri River. Love you both so much, Your Johnson.
Every time Regina had asked any one of the Hestons if there had been a new post from Johnson, they all said no, but Regina knew they were lying. Amanda would hardly look at Regina, or little Hettie. She uttered one-word answers to anything that Regina asked, and never offered anything in return. Percy mostly just glowered at her, until the night he showed up at her little shack to rape and beat her.
Regina was trying to be strong during this time of agony. But she knew her time was coming to an end. She could feel it, knew it the day she was finally able to walk around after the beating. The day she knew she was pregnant she cried, but steeled herself for a new set of problems to come.
The only bright spots in her life had been watching little Hettie grow smarter and more beautiful every day, and finding her mother. Actually, Charlie had found their mother, had apparently been searching for her for some time, and when he brought her to the little shack that Regina and Hettie currently stayed in, they all cried with joy at being reunited.
Charlie had returned to Blessed Hill briefly and badgered Missus into giving him information about their parents’ whereabouts. Master had died during the winter, leaving Missus to take care of all affairs now on Blessed Hill, and so Charlie had gone to make a deal with her. When Regina’s family had left the plantation, over half of the other free Negroes had gone, too, leaving Missus with just a handful of young girls and their half-white babies, all fathered by the wandering Master. Missus could hardly afford to keep their mansion outfitted with the basic necessities for the family, let alone take care of her husband’s philandering evidence, and Charlie knew it. He offered to take a few of the girls with him to Gatlin, taking them off her hands, and trying to find them work and husbands to care for them. He only asked that he be told what had happened to their parents.
Missus had, of course, balked at the idea, but in the end had surrendered the information, knowing she really had no other choice.
The mystery had been solved: Over 12 years before, Master had decided he wanted Liza Riddick, and when he had pressed the issue with her, Thomas Riddick had threatened the Master. Master acted at first as if everything was fine, but then the Riddicks had been taken one night into Atlanta, a promise of new clothes for the children being the bait. But what had awaited them was anything but an act of charity. That night in Atlanta, he had arranged for Thomas to be killed, and had taken Liza to a small whorehouse, The Comfort House, where she was welcomed as a new trick. Liza was Master’s favorite Comfort Woman when he made his once-a-month trip to Atlanta. He kept a hold on her there, telling her that if she ever tried to escape, her children would all be killed.
Liza had finally tried to escape when Master had complained to her that Regina had found refuge finally outside of the plantation, but she was beaten so badly by the Comfort House’s Mistress that she was hospitalized for several months, and had suffered amnesia. When she was released from the hospital, the Mistress turned her out, saying she had gotten too old to please anyone, and Liza returned to the only home she had ever known, Blessed Hill.
Missus, in a momentary lapse of cruelty, had found a kitchen job for Liza at a family home a few miles away. Master had never known she had returned, and Liza couldn’t recall what happened to her in Atlanta. She worked at the Williams’ home for nearly a year before Charlie came to get her. He had whisked her off immediately to Gatlin, NC, where her family had moved to. Liza Riddick smiled now, so happy with the way life had turned out for them.
Regina had taken so much comfort at having her mother around because it seemed to say, Yes, miracles can happen. She knew that when she had passed on, she could happily leave Hettie and this new little one in her mother’s care who loved being around her grandchildren.
As she lay there now, in agony at the pain and the decisions that would need to be made soon, she wondered if Johnson would ever really know what had happened to her.  She knew that his family would distort the truth, knew that Johnson would have to struggle with what he knew to be true about her and what his family was reporting. She hated Percy and Amanda so much for putting them all in the situation that they were all in now.
Hettie had gotten some water in pails from Rachel and had come back in to cuddle close with Regina. When her mother came in, Regina smiled and relaxed a little, hugging her small daughter closer to her.
“Mama,” Regina whispered. The room was getting darker, so Liza lit an oil lamp on the only table in the room.
Liza walked toward the bed and smiled down at them.
“Mama, it’s almost time,” Regina said a little louder but still barely above a whisper. “I need to you take Hettie to Rachel’s so that we can talk.”
Liza wordlessly gathered up the small child in her arms and carried her outside into the balmy summer night. She was back in a short time, Rachel bounding after her.
While Regina was alone, she reached under her cot mattress and found the ring Moses Heston had given her. Then she took Jacob’s ring from her right ring finger and Johnson’s wedding ring from her left. She held them grasped in her left hand, willing all three men to give her the strength she would need to get through the ordeal, and let go peacefully. She hoped there was a thing called Heaven, and that she would meet up with Jacob and Moses, and that they would all be happy being together. And, she longed for the day when Johnson would join her, too. She had grown to love him so much, and it made her heart break to think of how he would miss her.
The two older women went about gathering up the birthing cloths and getting the water ready for the cleaning process. Liza made a make-shift cradle out of an egg basket, filling it with blankets to make it comfortable.
        *
Johnson jumped out of the carriage and bounded up the steps to Heston House, anxious to see his wife and little Hettie. He had missed them all so much, had been anticipating his return for months. He had been gone just about a year now, and he knew that Little Hettie would have grown so much, and maybe wouldn’t even remember him.
The door was locked.
He rang the large chimes near the door, an item that his mother had had installed years before to remind folks to announce their arrival. Several minutes passed before the door was thrown open by an older Percy, who nearly froze when he saw his older brother on the step in front of him.
“Uh … hey brother,” he managed to stammer out but didn’t step aside to allow his brother passage through the doorway.
“Hey Percy,” Johnson answered tersely, automatically cautious about Percy’s strange behavior. “Where’s Regina?”
Percy froze in place, his eyes shifting, as if searching for what to say. His lips moved back and forth from a grimace to a frown, seeming to want to speak but not able. His face looked grotesquely contorted.
“Where is she, Percy?” Johnson was trying his best to stay calm, but a sudden sense of foreboding dawned upon him. His weathered face was lined with new tired etchings, but a new look of sadness began to overcome him.
Johnson backed up off the porch and turned around to face the long drive. He let his breath come out slowly, his anger subsiding and the remorse at leaving Regina when she had so obviously needed him flooded over him. He sank to the ground and the tears began to pour.
Percy stood behind his brother, watching the grief overcome the strong handsome man that so resembled their father. Percy had been struggling with his own guilt for days after Regina had passed away, after giving birth to his own son.
“What have I done?” Percy said to himself, the pain of his actions finally bringing him to his knees. He cried beside his brother; he cried for the pain he had caused, for the crimes he had committed, and for the son he knew he would never be allowed to see. But mostly, he cried for hurting little Hettie. He had taken her mother away from her, and now he just didn’t know how to atone for it all.
Percy told Johnson what he had done, and about the baby, and about Regina’s death during childbirth. Johnson listened to the whole story in silence, taking in the anger, the hatred and the plea for forgiveness. His tears never stopped; his heart hardened as the tale unfolded; his fists clenched and ached to kill his brother, the perpetrator of the crimes. But he held his emotions in check, all but the tears of grief. He couldn’t stop those from showing themselves.
“Where is Little Hettie?” he finally asked Percy, who sat on his knees next to him. Percy wouldn’t meet his eyes, just stared at the ground as his own tears fell.
“I think she is still up town at Regina’s brother’s house.” His voice was barely audible.
Johnson stood up and began the walk into town.  He didn’t look back as Percy called to him.
“Johnson, please,” Percy’s cries met with his older brother’s retreating back. “I just let the hate overcome me, I’m so sorry…”
Percy choked on his tears and anguish as Johnson walked away. Johnson didn’t dare look back at his brother, because he knew the anger and hatred inside him would commit an act equal to that of Percy’s, and he wanted to be able to forgive himself, and Percy, someday.
He walked and cried the whole ten miles to Gatlin proper. He had images in his mind that wouldn’t go away, images put there by his brother, and he felt the stab of anger again, but pushed it back down. He had to see Little Hettie, had to hold her in his arms and make sure she knew he wasn’t going anywhere again. He had to comfort the little child who had been conceived in deception and then made an orphan by hatred. He had to be the father she needed now.
Dr. Estrand drove by in a small motorized buggy, headed the other direction, but stopped abruptly when he realized it was Johnson he had just passed.
“Johnson, is that you?”
Johnson stopped to look up at the man who had been his mentor, had helped him and Regina through their toughest decision. He still couldn’t stop the tears from falling, and he didn’t bother to try. Dr. Estrand jumped out and led Johnson to the automobile’s passenger side. He returned to the driver’s side and headed the car back into town.  He drove past the still-charred remains of the Mercantile, where Regina had begun her life here. Just past the Mercantile, he turned left down a long dirt road where 4 small shack houses stood. Little Hettie sat outside the doorway of the main house, which was slightly larger and stood in front of the others. Hettie was sitting cross-legged in the dirt, her face and dress dirty, and she stared listlessly into space, only pausing slightly at the sight of the vehicle approaching. She didn’t seem to recognize either face, and even more painful to Johnson, didn’t seem to care about their presence.
Johnson jumped out of the car as soon as it had come to a stop and rushed over to Hettie.
“Hettie?” He scooped her up in his arms and crushed her to him, crying into her dirt-streaked hair. She instinctively put her arms around him, but didn’t make a sound.
Dr. Estrand knocked lightly upon the door and walked in to announce their arrival.
Johnson sat down on the dirt and pulled Hettie onto his lap. She leaned against his chest and it comforted him to know that she at least trusted him enough to be this close to him.
“I’ll take care of you, Hettie,” he said to her, smoothing her hair and holding her gently against him.
“What about the baby?” she asked absently.
Johnson didn’t quite know how to respond. He felt the hatred well up in him again, and part of it was directed toward the infant, even though he instantly felt ashamed for the feeling.
“What’s the baby’s name?” he asked, trying to buy himself a little time.
“We didn’t name him yet,” she said matter-of-factly. And then after a slight pause she said, “He killed Mama, you know.”
She still stared downward, her voice was flat, without emotion. Hearing the words come out of the child’s mouth made Johnson realize he had been thinking them himself, but knew they couldn’t live like that.
“He didn’t kill Mama, Honey,” Johnson said, hugging her tighter to him. “He’s just a little baby. There’s no way a little baby can kill someone else.”
”What killed Mama then?”
Johnson didn’t know what to say. Should he tell the child the truth, that her uncle, and half-brother, had killed her mother? He couldn’t tell her the truth; he just couldn’t let her harbor so much anger toward Percy. So, he told her what he thought would help.
“Her body was sick, Sweetheart,” he tried to explain. “I didn’t know she was sick when I left, or I wouldn’t have left her alone.”
“She missed you a lot,” Hettie said, again without emotion. Johnson knew that Hettie would always be affected by the events that she had been so close to, but hoped that he would be able to take away some of the pain eventually.
“I missed her, too, and you, too,” he murmured into her hair. The tears came on again, fresh and warm against the dry cold streaks that had made their way down his face.
Rachel came out the doorway and looked down at the two grieving souls at her feet. Her face had taken on a constant look of sadness since Regina had passed.
“I’s glad you here, Johnson. Come on in,” she said huskily, trying to keep a fresh batch of tears from bursting out. “I make ya some tea.”
The large white man stood with the barely café colored child with the long, brown, slightly wavy hair still wrapped in his arms and stooped under the low doorjamb of the large shack that housed his dead wife’s family. His eyes hadn’t dried yet, and most likely wouldn’t do so anytime soon. He didn’t bother to hide his tears.
Charlie sat in the far corner of the room, rocking a wriggling little bundle and making hushing and cooing sounds. He looked up at the guests coming in and stopped rocking. His face was hardened by the grief the whole family was enveloped in, but softened when he saw Johnson.
“Rachel, go fetch Ma in the back, she can hold Little Boy here whilst me ‘n Johnson have a talk.” Charlie handed the bundle over to his wife, who took him in her arms lovingly. She hustled out back to the kitchen, where there was a bit of cooking noise.
Johnson stood holding Hettie close to him, waiting for Charlie to say what needed to be said.
“I’s glad to see you home,” Charlie began, his expression clearly showing his pain. “Little Hettie’s been askin’ bout ya, and it’ll be good for her to have ya back. She mighty sad, that little one there.”
Johnson just nodded to him through his tears, seeming unable to trust his voice just yet.
“Regina died giving birth to the Little Boy,” Charlie began again, staring at his feet. “Her insides was a wreck, is what Doc Estrand said. He said that her bladder and uterus tore during the birth, and she started bleeding inside. She didn’t suffer, Johnson, she went pretty quick after the birth.”
Charlie’s face contorted as he said the last words, silent tears spilling from his eyes. He looked down to try to regain his composure, which didn’t come for several moments. The two men and small child all took the time to grieve together.
It was Johnson who broke the silence.
“I don’t know exactly what Percy did,” he began, trying to choke back the tears long enough to have the conversation, “and I probably shouldn’t know, otherwise I’ll kill my little brother. I found a real good job as a mining foreman in Nevada, but I told them I was coming to get Hettie and Regina, and would be back in a month. I’ll need to tell them that I can’t make it; it’s not happening now. I’ll have to find work here.”
As his voice spoke of life matters other than Regina, it took on a new resolution, able to talk in the abstract without so much emotion.
“I was planning to stay at Heston House during my stay here, but I don’t have much desire to stay there now, and there are arrangements to be made now for Little Hettie and me, and the baby, since I’ll be staying here in Gatlin awhile now. Whatever you need from me, I’ll be happy to help out with.” Johnson paused and took in a deep breath, the tears that were near his mouth being sucked into his lips to sit on his tongue, the salt bringing him comfort in a strange way. “I should probably see the child now,” he ended.
Charlie just nodded at first, then spoke quietly. “We can keep the Little Boy, raise him up as our own.”
Johnson said nothing. His mind instantly felt relief, and then guilt. “Why don’t we sleep on it.”
Charlie nodded.
Hettie lifted her head briefly from the comfortable shoulder she had been missing so and looked into Charlie’s face. “That’s good of you to love him.” She said simply.
Dr. Estrand came back through the doorway from the kitchen.
“Do you need a place to stay, Johnson?” he asked as he moved to sit at the small sofa near the front window.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Johnson said gratefully. “Can I bring Hettie and the baby, too?”
“Of course.”
Johnson squeezed the little girl to him again before setting her down on the floor, sensing her need to finally be free from the embrace. She walked slowly to the kitchen.
The three men all sat, Johnson sitting on the sofa near Dr. Estrand and Charlie sitting back in his rocker in the corner. Rachel bustled back into the room serving tea and fresh cream to them all. Charlie had been working at a dairy just outside of Gatlin, and they had been blessed with fresh cream and butter because of it. Johnson poured cream into his tea, aromatic and comforting, Regina’s favorite chamomile.
Rachel sat in another rocker near her husband. She sipped her own tea, her skin the sharpest contrast to the pure white ceramic mugs that she served the tea in. Her kind face surveyed the men in the room, all silent in their own reveries. She knew their sadness would take time to get over. She felt especially sorry for Johnson, who had come home today expecting to see his beloved wife but had been shocked to learn that his wife had died, and by his own brother’s actions. He would need time to grieve, but would also need to find someone to care for Little Hettie. She began her own silent arrangements for finding someone suitable for the job, mentally clicking through the women in Gatlin. She thought only of the caring women, the ones who had always shown her family kindness. Rachel’s thoughts turned to a couple of prospects, and she was pretty sure of at least two, but decided she would wait until Johnson’s grieving had had time to complete itself before suggesting anything.
“Johnson, we have things taken care of here for the baby, so you make whatever arrangements you need to make,” Charlie said, finally breaking the silence. “I can prob’ly take another day or two off this week from the dairy if’n you need me to.”
Johnson smiled thanks to him. “I’ll let you know what my plans are by tomorrow, I just need to get my head straight.”
Johnson’s tear-streaked face showed the hours of travel etched around his eyes and mouth, his forehead newly creased with lines of sadness and emptiness.
“Where is Regina buried?” he asked finally, looking down into his tea.
“She’s out in the back, under the willow tree,” Dr. Estrand said.
“I need to see her grave, need to be alone for a little while, then I’d like to go up town to your house, if you don’t mind,” he said to Dr. Estrand.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Dr. Estrand nodded. “Take your time.”
Johnson and Charlie stood, and Charlie led the way through the kitchen, where they found Charlie’s mother huddled in a corner with Regina wrapped in her arms and the little baby in a small cradle near them.
Charlie cleared his throat and his mother looked up.  Her eyes showed a lifetime of pain and sadness, renewed by the death of her youngest child, whom she had been taken from so long ago and then reunited with just recently.
“Mama, this is Regina’s husband, Johnson.” Charlie spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes met Johnson’s. “I’m Liza,” she said as she put Hettie on the ground to stand next to her, stood herself and put her hand out to be taken. Johnson took her hand in his briefly, took in the similarities. She was taller, her features delicate like Regina’s. Her eyes, however, were dark brown and immensely sad. She didn’t smile. Liza was pure Cherokee; her light copper skin and thick black straight hair that was pulled back in a ribbon showed the pride of her ancestry, showed Johnson a hint of what his own mother’s people had looked like.
“I’ve been told that you are a good man, were good to my Regina,” she said, then sat back down to attend to her grandchildren.
Johnson’s eyes filled with tears again. He made no motion to wipe them away, but instead said, “I loved her more than life itself.”
She nodded with finality, as if she understood such a love. He knew that she must have, as Regina had told him of the happiness she recalled of life with her mother and father.
“I was with her when she passed, Johnson,” Liza said, looking down at her granddaughter. “She knew what has happening to her, and she wanted to make sure the babies were cared for, especially if you didn’t come back. She didn’t hate the Little Boy, didn’t blame him for what was happening to her. In fact, she said that she had forgiven Percy, because that Little Boy is so beautiful, she just couldn’t hate Percy.
“She loved you, Johnson. Said she would miss you, and that you had been the best husband she could have ever hoped for.”
She reached in her pocket and drew out the rings that Regina had entrusted to her, had asked her to give to Johnson when he returned. She handed them silently over to him now, which he took in his huge hand, looked at them with a softening in his face, and the tears came again.
Johnson had listened intently to the revelations of his wife’s forgiving nature, the tears flowing freely, his blue eyes so clouded by grief that he could hardly see what was in front of him. Knowing that Regina had forgiven Percy just wasn’t enough for him; he would have to get through his emotions of hatred on his own time, and hopefully get to the point where he at least did not want to kill Percy.
Liza watched Johnson’s emotions, her own sadness put aside for the moment as she witnessed his sorrow. She saw the hatred in his eyes and knew that it was understandable, but also knew that he needed to get over his anger so that he would be able to adequately care for Hettie, and possibly the baby boy.  And they all knew that Percy would suffer no consequences for his actions, other than what Johnson would inflict upon him. But Liza knew that if Johnson harmed his brother, he would never forgive himself; he was that sort of man, she could tell.
Johnson sat on a stool in the little kitchen in front of a counter that was clean and ready to prepare the next meal. He slumped over onto it, letting his tears fall onto the wooden countertop. Hettie approached him quietly, touching his elbow. He looked over at her, smiled a little, then pulled her up on his lap, the two of them comforting each other. Liza watched the bond between them grow deeper, and knew that Hettie would always be safe with Johnson.
Rachel bustled into the kitchen, her son following close behind her. Rachel murmured something quiet to Liza, who stood and scooped up her grandson, then followed Rachel out again back to the living room. Johnson and Hettie were left alone in their grief.
        *
Sometime later, Johnson deposited Hettie with her grandmother and went to find Regina’s body in the earth. There was a single willow tree in the back yard, so he found her quite easily.
Johnson stood quietly, staring at the modest grave under the shade of the willow boughs. His wife. He recalled a thousand images of her all at once – her happy, accepting smile on the day they had been married; the shy girl he had helped so long ago in the Mercantile; the stoic way she held herself when they were pushed out of one house after another in Harrisburg. He had even been with her during Hettie’s birth, watched the child come out of the mother’s body, and knew he would love them both until the day he died. He had known every little intimate detail about his wife, even down to the gold wedding band of Jacob’s that she wore on her right hand. All the strife and adversity in her short life had given Regina a strength that she lacked at first while at the Mercantile, but it never took away her sweet nature, her generous and accepting way.
The two of them had quarreled once over the ring that her father had given her. He couldn’t understand why she still wore it from time to time, on her middle finger next to the gold band of Jacob’s, and he jealously defended his request that she remove it. She had taken it off, but had set it on her bureau in plain sight where he would have to see it. She brought the subject up later in the evening, and had explained to him the goodness she had seen in his father the day he had given her the ring.
“I can give you millions of rings, prettier than that one, simpler, bigger, whatever it is you need,” he had persisted in his protest. But she had remained firm with him, and although she never wore the ring again, she left the ring out for him to be reminded of his uncharacteristic jealousy. He had never hit her, would never have done anything in the world to hurt her. She was the sun and moon to him, and he could never get enough of her. She seemed to reciprocate the affection. He knew that she had grown to love him very much, if not the burning desire he felt, at least an easy acceptance of their attraction to each other and an appreciation of how he had changed her life for the better. She seemed eternally grateful that Little Hettie would always be cared for by him, and would kiss him for no reason after observing the large white man playing with the adorable nearly white baby.
All of this went through his head as he stood in front of the recently turned plot of earth. He kneeled down, resting on his heels at the foot of the grave.
“Regina, I don’t know if you can hear me, My Sweet Princess,” he began uncomfortably. “I hope you can, but even if you can’t, I guess this will help me say goodbye somehow.”
“You were my world, and now it’s a bit shattered,” his voice caught as new tears formed in his eyes. “Hettie will be fine with me, but we’re both going to need a long time to heal after this. I’m sorry I brought you back to Heston House. I should have listened to your misgivings about how my family would treat you. We should have gone back to Wren’s Nest…” His words faded away as he realized that none of it mattered now, because he couldn’t take back any of the decisions they had made.
“Princess, I want to apologize for Percy. I saw the guilt in his eyes today, and he knows he did wrong. He said he just let the hate overcome him. Hate for whom and what, I don’t know, because you never did anything to him. But he knows that the Little Boy is his child, and he knows that his violence killed you. His hands will always be stained with your blood.”  Silence enveloped the yard. No birds chirped, no insects flew by with their wings chattering to interrupt the stillness.
“I can’t explain the desires that are in the hearts of men,” he began again quietly. “I have seen so much hurt happen to you, all because of men’s desire. You deserved so much more than all of this, and yet, it was what made you stronger, and what made you my wife. I can’t take back any of it.”
He sat silently for awhile, taking in his own words, letting the tears continue to fall as he bid farewell to his wife.
“I think I’ll name the baby Thomas, after your father.”
He stood up, seeming reluctant to walk away, but knowing he couldn’t just sit here under a willow tree for the rest of his life; Regina wouldn’t have wanted that for him.
“I love you, Regina. I wish there was a bigger way to say it.” And with that, he turned away and walked back into the house. The broken man found Hettie and hugged her again, then went to find the baby.