Lilly Blossoms (Lessons in Submission Book 3) (14 page)

He dropped a kiss on top of her head, his fingers running through the silky, ebony curls. God, he loved her so much, and needed her to know she could confide in him, allow him to comfort her, to know he'd protect her from whatever frightened her. When she smiled up at him, he smiled back and then took his seat. They would enjoy their breakfast but then they would have a discussion about what had just happened. He reached for the butter and then sprinkled sugar on her stack of pancakes, noticing that Belinda had only put two on her plate.

Lilly sat back in her chair with a small groan. This time when Phillip looked over at her, she was able to smile. "I can't eat another bite. I'm absolutely stuffed!"

Picking up his napkin, he reached over to dab at the corner of her mouth. "Some little girl might like pancakes, but she loves lemon curd."

She didn't bother to deny it as she'd almost emptied the entire bowl by herself. Well, she'd not emptied it, as he had never let her lift a single serving spoon. Instead, he'd made sure her pancakes had been sprinkled with sugar and had a pool of jam dripping over the sides before cutting them into small bites, and when she'd finished those, he'd placed several strawberries and smeared a generous helping of lemon curd on her scone… make that three scones. When she'd asked for a cup of tea, after Miss Summers joined them, he'd assured her that she could have one… after she finished her juice and milk. When the headmistress didn't bat an eye, giving her a soft smile as she added sugar into her own cup, Lilly hadn't protested. What had her a bit surprised was that instead of insisting she could do every single one of those things by herself, she was enjoying his attention. It made her feel as if they were sharing more than just a meal. It made her feel special.

"Lilly, thank you for allowing me to interrupt your breakfast," Eleanor said when she'd finished her tea.

"Thank you for allowing…" Lilly began, and then simply smiled and said, "You're welcome," which earned her a smile. "I promise to work in the garden…"

"There will be time for that a bit later," Phillip interrupted and she knew beyond a doubt that he was about to revisit what had happened earlier.

"Take all the time you need," Eleanor said, standing. "When you are ready, your tools are in the kitchen where your papa left them last week."

"Yes, ma'am," she said, realizing that her flower basket was also in the kitchen.
You can just dash in and grab them, Lilly. Don't panic again. You are fine.
This time the little voice helped her to smile without forcing it. However, once Miss Summers had disappeared back inside the house and Phillip stood and held out his hand, she wondered how long she could keep pretending nothing was wrong. Slipping her hand into his, she discovered the answer with his next statement.

"It's time for us to have a talk and, little one, if you intend to get even one weed pulled or a single stem cut, I suggest you don't waste time attempting to convince me that nothing is wrong. Understood?"

"Yes, sir" she said as they began to walk along a path.

"And, if you are thinking about attempting to hide anything, or to flat out lie to me, then your bloomers will be coming down for a spanking. Understood?"

Oh God, his tone, his eyes, his expression told her that she could do one of two things. She could tell him that no, she didn't have to tell him a single thing, or she could tell him the truth and just pray that he could accept that she was flawed.

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"That's my good girl," he said, squeezing her hand just a bit tighter.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they veered off onto a path she hadn't gone down before.

"To a spot where we can talk without being disturbed. Eleanor told me that several of the girls have taken to stopping by for a visit while you work. I think that is wonderful but today I want you all to myself. At least for a bit longer."

"Oh," was all she could manage. What else had the headmistress told him? He didn't hurry her, and even adjusted his stride so that she could easily keep up. She was torn between thinking how kind that was, and wondering if he was giving her additional time to think. He'd asked her to think about so many things… perhaps it was time to give him some answers.

They rounded another curve and she stopped dead in her tracks to stare at the scene before her. It was like something out of a fairy tale. A large white gazebo stood at the end of the path. The railings were covered with ivy, and baskets of flowers hung from the eaves. Flower beds encircled it, the scent of blossoms heavy in the air. The roof was painted green and a wind chime sang out its notes when the breeze found it. She could almost believe the bees buzzing from bloom to bloom were really fairies darting amongst the beauty, for she could think of nowhere more perfect for them to play. She hadn't realized she'd spoken her thoughts aloud until he spoke.

"It is perfect. Those fat bees do make quite the fairies," he agreed, giving her hand a squeeze before he led her up the steps. Benches offered a place to sit but her eyes went to the large swing that hung towards the back. It too was painted white and she could easily picture herself curled up on its seat, a book in her hand. When he led her to it, she was almost skipping until she remembered why he'd brought her here.

He took a seat and then pulled her between his legs. Her tummy fluttered as she remembered the last time he'd done so.

"Do you want to sit on my lap and tell me what is wrong, or do you need to lie over it and let me coax you into talking?"

Since she knew how he'd coax her, she shook her head. "I'd like to sit on your lap, please."

He drew her down and when he pushed with his feet to begin a gentle swing, she felt like she was being comforted and rocked in the arms of the most wonderful man she'd ever known.

* * *

"I want you to remember what I told you yesterday," he said softly, looking down at her. "I love you, Lilly, and no matter what you tell me, I will never stop loving you." When she didn't answer and looked as if she was struggling, he shook his head.

"Don't," he said gently. "Don't try to come up with some answer you think will do. Please trust me enough to tell me the truth. Even if you have thought about all I said and…" he paused and had to swallow hard before continuing. "Even if you have decided that I am not the man for you. If you can't find happiness as my wife… that you don't want me to be your papa, please, tell me the truth."

He saw tears fill her eyes and the breaking of his heart was only stopped when her small hand came up to caress his cheek. "Your… your wife? You want to be my papa?"

She had no idea how just hearing that word had his heart stuttering. "Of course; my wife and my precious little one. When I told you I wanted to take care of you for the rest of your life, I meant every day, every moment. It would make me the happiest man on earth if you say you'd take me as your husband and papa, but only if you feel that you could love me…"

"I do," she said. "I might sound silly, but I think I've loved you since the first day we met."

"If it's silly then I'm silly as well, because I know I fell in love with you the minute I saw you peeking through the leaves of that oak tree."

She smiled and then dropped her hand from his face. As much as he wished they could continue to talk of love and a future, he knew they first needed to visit the past. He'd remembered several things after carrying her from the kitchen. He remembered the contents of her house, he remembered the night she'd said the light from the lantern was too bright, but most especially, he remembered that once he'd set her onto the stool in the kitchen, she'd begun to tremble, her eyes glued to the embers glowing beneath that pot of stew. He was almost trembling himself, terrified that his thoughts had a basis in something very traumatic for this woman. He could only promise to be always be there to soothe her fears and try to make it right.

"Tell me why you are afraid of fire."

She didn't bolt off his lap or try to deny his words. Instead, when he reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, she laid her cheek against his shoulder. "I think it's my turn to tell you a story. It isn't a pretty story but… it is the truth." At his nod, she took a few moments to collect her thoughts, then began.

"I grew up as a very lucky little girl. My mum and dad were wonderful people. You would have liked them and they would have liked you. There wasn't a day that passed when I didn't know how much they loved me. My mum gave me a gift that will last my lifetime when she taught me to read. I loved every story we shared and I'd come home from school and she'd help me with my studies. We'd talk as we cooked supper." She paused and he didn't push her, allowing her to tell her story in her own way. He saw a fleeting smile play at her lips as she continued.

"My father gave me the gift of gardening. I remember being very little and walking with him. He'd dig a hole and hand me a seed or a small plant. He'd say, 'Give it a kiss, little Lil, and help it grow'. For years I honestly thought that the plants grew because of my kisses. I even ran around and kissed trees that were taller than our house." The smile slid from her lips and her eyes drifted closed.

"We lived in a small house out in the country. The garden was bigger than our house and yet, it was the most perfect place to grow up. One night, when I was twelve, it turned from heaven into… into hell."

God, he just knew what she was going to say… wanted to tell her she didn't need to finish the story and yet knew she had to do so. All he could do was hold her a little tighter and try to give her some of his strength.

"I was asleep upstairs. My father shaking me, yelling my name, woke me up. He picked me up and when he tried to go back down the stairs… he couldn't. The flames were already climbing up the walls. He took me back and opened the window. He told me not to be scared… that everything would be all right but I was terrified. When I realized he was going to drop me, I begged him not to. I clung to him instead of listening. Finally, he was able to get me out the window and was holding my hands, telling me it wasn't far, that I would be fine. He told me he loved me and promised… he promised we would meet in the garden after he got mum. He let go and he was right... it wasn't that far. I landed and looked up to tell him he was right but he was gone." Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was gripping his hand as if remembering holding her father's.

"I… I remember the screaming. My mum… I tried to get to her. I ran back into the house but the fire was everywhere. I… I couldn't see and I couldn't breathe… I couldn't find her. I remember falling and… flames. I remember screaming, thinking I was in hell, and would never see my parents again." She stopped and he was about to speak when she looked up and met his eyes.

"The only reason I didn't die is because our neighbor pulled me out of that hell. If I hadn't fought, if I'd only listened and trusted my father, then he could have saved mum. Instead, it was too late…"

"God, no," Phillip said, no longer able to remain silent. He crushed her to his chest. "Lilly, oh, Lilly, no. You were just a little girl. It wasn't your fault. Honey, it wasn't your fault." She sobbed against him, his tears joining hers as he cradled her close, rocking her gently. It was a long time before her sobs began to ease. He released her only long enough to wipe her cheeks and bend to kiss her forehead. "I know it was horrible and I am so sorry that you lost your parents, but, Lilly, I am so glad that you survived. Your mum and dad would want you to live on. Every time you open a book and read, every time you plant a seed and nurture it, you are honoring them with your love, with your thanks for all they taught you. You are the perfect living proof of their love for each other."

"I'm not," she said. "I mean, I'm not perfect…"

"You were perfect to them and you are perfect to me. You are beautiful—"

"No!" Her hands were pushing against his chest as she shook her head violently. "I'm not! I'm not! I'm not!"

"Lilly," Phillip said, attempting to grab her hands as they began to beat against his chest—not because they were hurting him, but because he could feel her shaking as if she were about to fall apart and he wanted to pull her close. "Honey, stop… I'm here. I'll always be here…"

"Don't say that!" she practically screamed. Her anger and fear gave her the strength to twist away, to roll off his lap to her hands and knees. She pushed herself up and ran. He stood, almost stumbling as the swing slammed into the back of his knees and then heard her scream as she fell. God, she'd forgotten the steps! His heart was in his throat as he raced to where she was lying on the ground. By the time he knelt beside her, she was curled up in a ball and was sobbing the same words again and again… 'I'm not… I'm not…'

Scooping her into his arms, he raced back towards the house. When he saw Rachel with a group of girls up ahead, he yelled for her to run get Eleanor. She never hesitated, dashing away and screaming for the headmistress. By the time he reached the house, Eleanor was opening the double doors.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know but I think she's in shock," Phillip said, "God, help her… help her. Please…"

Eleanor took charge. "Margaret, send for the doctor. Phillip, follow me. Girls, get out of the way."

Within minutes, Phillip was sitting on a bed, his back against the headboard because he absolutely refused to release Lilly. He saw Eleanor shake her head but he just couldn't let her go.

"Phillip, you need to tell me what happened. Were you perhaps chastising her and she decided to run instead of accepting…"

"No! It was nothing like that!" He continued to rock her back and forth in his arms as he repeated Lilly's story. "When I told her that I was glad she had survived, that she was beautiful and a perfect example of her parent's love, she… she started screaming and when she ran, she must have forgotten the steps were there or her feet tangled in the hem of her dress. God, Eleanor, she flew down the steps and landed hard. She was curled up in a little ball when I got to her and all she would say is that 'she's not'."