Hope wiped at her cheeks, letting Judah’s story about his first wife set in, before she said quietly, “You didn’t kill her, Judah. That’s not murder. What you did was an act of love, an act of kindness to end something she couldn’t do herself.”
“Whatever you wanna call it, Hope, I still shot my wife in the head, and that’s somethin’ I have to live with every day of my life.” He was looking at her now, and his eyes were heavy with the weight of the past.
There wasn’t anything she could say to take the pain of the past away from him, and she felt like he’d done enough storytelling for one night. Asking to hear about Sylvia seemed foolish and selfish, so she didn’t. “Thank you for letting me know what happened. I’m glad you did. I wish everyone could know.”
“No one else needs to know.”
There was a finality about the statement that told her she needed to keep his business to herself. Hope nodded. “Still, I appreciate it. I’m sure it’s not an easy thing to speak about.”
“I haven’t told that story to anyone else except Sylvia.”
She was shocked but tried to hide her surprise. Obviously, Paul must know, too, which meant Sylvia or Caroline must’ve told him. “You can trust me not to repeat it.”
“I know.”
Despite her surprise that he would so readily trust someone he’d hardly spoken to, Hope nodded. “I wasn’t wrong though,” she reminded him. “You didn’t murder her.”
“But I did kill her.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.”
“Don’t matter what you call it, Hope. She’s gone just the same.”
No argument came to mind, so she kept her mouth shut, wishing there was something she could do to ease his pain, but she knew in her heart there was nothing. She wondered what it had been about Sylvia that had made him try to find love again. She must’ve been a remarkable woman, and Hope wished she could hear her story, too, but it was getting late, and she wasn’t going to press him.
She didn’t have to. “We moved to Manhattan a few years later. Caroline fell in with Sylvia right away. She was a perty girl with shocking red hair and a feisty way about her. When I finished up with my studies, Paul came to work for me, and we got to be good friends. At the time, I was still under the impression I might be happy someday. I’d married Isabella so young, I didn’t realize what life had in the cards for me yet.
“I didn’t pursue Sylvia, though.” He chuckled a little bit, and Hope smiled, glad he at least had a few fond memories to share. “She chased me like a fox in the hen house—only in this case I guess it was the rooster she was after. Eventually, I gave in, and we started courtin’. Sylvia was the complete opposite of Isabella—full of life, a friend to everyone. Always busy doin' whatever she could for anyone and everyone.”
“She sounds like a lovely woman.” Once again, Hope found herself slightly jealous and had to argue with herself about how ridiculous that was considering the circumstances.
“We had a neighbor lady who was near a hundred years old, and she insisted on takin’ care of her own animals even though both Syl and I volunteered to do it for her. There was this dang nail in that barn that constantly slipped out of the wall, and yet she insisted on hangin’ her lantern there, even though I told her a thousand times not to. I even put a nice hook in for it and everything. I’d pull the nail out, and next time me or Syl would go over there, she’d a put it back in. I didn’t understand it at the time, but Syl said, ‘That’s just the way Mrs. Wilson is,’ so we left it.”
Hope could see where the story was going, and her stomach turned over. She swallowed hard and waited for him to finish.
“Well, one morning, I’d gone to work, and once again, there was a cloud of smoke on the horizon that alerted me there was somethin’ not right. Paul and I both ran over there as fast as we could. Syl’d gotten there first.” His voice trailed off a little, and Hope realized he probably had never told anyone this story before. “She’d gone in to try to help. But....”
“She didn’t make it out?”
He shook his head. “Paul was furious. I ain’t never seen anyone so angry in my whole life. He couldn’t understand why I’d let her do somethin’ like that. And I was so beside myself at losin’ Syl, I couldn’t even begin to explain to him that I’d done everything I could think of to try to keep Mrs. Wilson from settin’ the barn on fire with that damn lantern.” He shook his head a few times and wiped at his eyes. Hope remembered what Caroline had said on their way to the barn raisin’. It hadn’t even been four years since Sylvia had passed away. “He ain’t ever forgive me for that, and I guess that’s okay because I ain’t ever forgive myself either.”
Hope inhaled through her nose, held it for a second, and then let it go slowly. She wished she had some words of wisdom, something to say to make him feel better about his past, but there was nothing that could be said that she hadn’t already said before. Finally, she decided if she couldn’t say anything profound, she could at least say something heartfelt. “I’m so sorry, Judah. No one should ever have to go through what you’ve been through. It’s just awful....”
He was quiet for a long time, and she assumed he was trying to get himself together. She couldn’t blame him for being emotional about the deaths of two wives. She’d never lost anyone close to her, but even the thought of losing someone she loved left her stomach in knots and a sense of dread in her heart.