Free Moondrops (Love Letters) by Sarita Leone Page A

don’t believe all men do what your father did, girls. He left me, not you, because we were not compatible. It didn’t have anything to do with either of you, our parting.” Genevieve took her hand away. Three mugs of tea, long gone cold, sat before them on the worn wooden table. She lifted hers to her lips and sipped. Grimacing, she set the mug down so hard liquid splashed the tabletop. “I should not have lied to you, regardless of what happened between your father and me. It was not right and I am sorry.” She met their gazes, one by one, then said, “I am sorry, girls. Sorry for this, and for so much more.”
    To her credit, Louise’s all-about-me demeanor crumbled in the face of their mother’s regret. She reached out and whisked the wet spot away with her hand, wiping her palm across her opposite sleeve. “It is not your fault, really. It sounds like our father was a dashing man, and you an innocent girl. How could you resist his charms?”
    Genevieve lifted her shoulders slightly, and then let them fall slowly. “Yes, he was a smooth talker. Handsome, funny, a good conversationalist. But the truth is, I didn’t pay attention to how good a man he was until after I’d made my mistake. And really, I couldn’t fault him for leaving me when he found out. Of course, at the time I was hurt and angry, but I’ve had a lot of years to think about it. I drove him away.”
    “What did you do?” Elise asked. It was a personal question but after hours of revelations, tears and apologies, she did not hesitate to ask.
    The velvet pouch, the pearl earrings resting on top of the sleek fabric, sat in the center of the table. Elise reached for them as she spoke, but midway her arm stilled and she brought her hand back. The third set of earrings seemed untouchable, now that they’d been identified as Genevieve’s wedding gift from their father. The little pouch had held more than earrings; the secrets tied within had shaped all three women’s lives.
    Genevieve did not hesitate. She grabbed the earrings, looked Elise straight in the eyes and said, “I let it out that my main attraction—initially, that is—to your father was his station. He wasn’t a peer but his father was a highly successful merchant who passed his business, and wealth, to his son. When your father learned that uppermost in my mind had been the thought that accepting his hand in marriage would bring me higher socially, he was devastated. In hindsight, I can’t blame him. It must have hurt him dreadfully, knowing I’d cared more for what lined his pockets than for the man who wore the pants. My only excuse—and it is no good excuse at all—is that I was immature. Thoughtless. Self-centered.” She paused, gazed at Louise for a lingering moment, then went on. “I let the cat out of the bag, in a fit of pregnant hysteria which I will forever regret having. He couldn’t bear my motives for marrying him, and left. Dear man, he thought I’d loved him all along.”
    “Didn’t you?” Louise asked.
    “Oh, yes. I loved him. I just realized it too late, is all.” Genevieve sighed, and the grief in the sound tore Elise’s heart to shreds.
    “He sounds like a romantic fellow.” Having a heartbroken father was more soothing than thinking he’d been heartless. Elise continued, “You cannot blame yourself forever, you know. Forgiveness, especially now the truth is out and he is passed on, is something you need to give yourself.”
    “I know,” Genevieve replied. She said it but didn’t appear as if she believed it.
    Elise hoped that in time their mother might find peace. She had given everything for her daughters, and she had paid for her foolishness already. It was time for them to move forward, regardless of the past.
    Trying to lighten the moment, Elise smiled as brightly as she could given the condition of her tired mind and body. She shot a warning glance toward Louise.
    “Tell us again, mother, about the Arabian legend. How did our