Read Online Loving Helen by Michele Paige Holmes - Free Book Online Page A

them.
    “Elizabeth’s grave is at the top of the hill,” he said, nodding toward the back of the churchyard, which rose steeply.
    Silently Helen followed. Halfway up the slope, he pointed out Elizabeth’s father’s grave. Helen looked at the date and saw that he’d died almost two years earlier. Grace had written that Lord Sutherland believed it was from the heartbreak of losing his daughter.
    So much sadness for one family.
    Grace had also written of Nicholas Sutherland’s sorrow and bitterness over both his sister’s and father’s deaths. If anyone could help him overcome his grief, Helen knew it would be Grace.
    But how does Mr. Preston figure into that situation? Helen pushed the question from her mind. It was not her concern.
    They left the churchyard but continued to climb. Her breathing became labored as she trudged behind Mr. Preston, and she took care not to step on her skirts. When at last they reached the top of the hill and Elizabeth’s grave, Helen took a moment to catch her breath. Then she turned a slow circle, taking in the spectacular view. A patchwork of fields spread out in every direction, dotted by buildings Helen knew to be grand estates, but which from here appeared to be no more than tiny cottages. From here, too, the landscape below appeared brown, but Helen imagined that in spring, summer, and early autumn —even beneath winter snow — it was breathtaking. Above the farmland, the sky seemed to go on forever, its blue deepening to purple at the horizon. She turned to Mr. Preston and found him watching her.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.
    She nodded. “Beautiful does not seem to do it justice.”
    “We had to get special permission to bury Elizabeth up here,” Mr. Preston said as he set Beth on the ground. “Elizabeth loved to climb hills. She loved that she could see out in all directions, to possibilities and places beyond her world.” He bent to brush fallen leaves from the gravestone.
    “She sounds like an extraordinary person,” Helen said.
    “She was.” Mr. Preston stepped back from the grave and addressed Beth. “Would you like to put the flowers on her grave today?”
    Beth held her hands out, and Helen surrendered the roses. “Be careful of the thorns.”
    Beth took the flowers, pulled one from the bunch, and handed it back to Helen. “For you.”
    “Oh no.” Helen shook her head. “These are your mother’s.”
    “It’s not for you to keep,” Beth said, exasperation in her voice. “You give it to her and say something. One for you too, Papa.” She thrust a flower at him. “I’m first.”
    She turned. “I miss you, Mama.” She placed a flower at the base of the stone. “I wish you were here to play with me.” Another flower. “I know you would let me ride your horse and tell Papa that it’s all right.” Two flowers more, and Beth looked over at her father, her lips puckered, a glint of hope in her eyes.
    He mouthed an exaggerated no and shook his head, but Helen caught the hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. She wondered if she’d see Beth sitting atop a horse tomorrow. The little girl did seem to have a way of getting much of what she wanted from her father.
    “I wish you were here to tuck me in at night,” Beth continued. “And Papa too. He doesn’t like to sleep alone either.”
    Helen kept her gaze down but could not get the image of Mr. Preston, in his room at night — and lonely — from her mind.
    Two more flowers lay beside the others. “I love you, Mama.” Beth’s last rose fell from her fingers, and she stood, rather solemnly, compared to her usual boisterous self.
    Unsure whether to go next or what she might say, Helen did not move. After a moment, Mr. Preston stepped forward. “We miss you, Elizabeth.” He pressed his lips to the rose and then placed it reverently on top of the others.
    Helen felt her eyes clouding with tears for a woman she’d never met and the family left behind.
    Crouching beside