The Forgotten Ones (A Completed Steamy, Historical Romance)

October 6, 1863

Oliver's POV

The early morning sun crept into the room I slept in last night. It's still hard to adjust to the idea of being home. Especially after a few years of dreaming about this day. I'm supposed to wake with my wife in my arms. Instead, I'm alone just as I was when I was off at war.

I heard crying, so I didn't hesitate to check on my children. I walked to the nursery and saw a beautiful sight. My wife stood in her shift in front of the window as sunlight cascaded through her gown. She was turned just perfectly, and the outline of her body was exposed through the shift.

Even after two pregnancies, her breasts were plump and her stomach flat. She is missing the curves I often dreamed about, but she is still beautiful. The light shines through her long wavy hair making it look like strands of gold glistening in the sunlight. Her voice is soft and gentle.

An idea came across my mind and my decision was made quickly.

"Naomi?" I spoke up and she grabbed her shaw to cover herself. That stings through the depths of my heart.

"I need you to pack a trunk for yourself and our children." The look she gave me pierced through me like a knife.

"You're sending us away? You believe I'm mad?" She's terribly paranoid.

"No, we are traveling away from the war for some time."

"There is no place that's far enough away from the war." She said.

"Europe." I answered in one word.

She shook her head. "You want me to leave our home? In the middle of the war where it could be raided at any moment. No, we need to be here to protect it."

"Our home isn't inside four walls. You and our children are my home. I'm also yours, darling. We need to be somewhere safe, even if it's a short time." I said.

"What about Armstrong? He will return and I won't be here."

I walked away with my fists curled into a rock hard ball. There is obviously more to the story than I know. Have I officially lost my wife?

We are going, so I called Patrick into the parlor and sat behind my desk.

"I need you to take over my household for an undetermined amount of time. I'm taking my family away from this place. Please have Claire and Mae pack our things. We will be leaving at sunrise tomorrow."

"Where would you all be going?" He asked.

"Europe, to see my family. She needs to be somewhere safe from this war."

"How? You can't travel east." He pointed out.

"No, we are heading north to Canada. We must leave promptly to avoid weather. I'll send you money for more provisions. Mrs. Chapman is welcome to stay if she likes, but it will be only my family and Claire going to Europe. Please also inform Miss. Arn."

"Yes sir."

I dug around in my desk drawer. Nothing is like I left it. I need into my safe and cannot find the key. What's in the safe was mine and Bubs secret, and he was not to tell anyone unless money ran out. I found a folded up piece of paper along with a letter from me.

"January 8, 1863,

My Dearest Oliver,

The grief of losing my father and not knowing if you will return is taking its toll on my heart and my thoughts.

I've done things lately that make me think that I am too losing my mind. I learned some things about a man's risk in visiting brothels. Am I sick? Are you sick? Will our baby suffer because of its father's choices?

I'm so sorry my love. I thought I forgave you for your sins, but I quickly learned I must now learn to forgive myself.

This war is killing both of us slowly. I wish I never knew of my father's indiscretions. They do not give me any peace now since Armstrong and I have our own sins to hide."

It's an unfinished letter from my wife. I read it again to make sure I'm really reading what I think the words are saying.

I worked to hide my anger and ran out of the house. I'm not even sure I shut the door. I didn't know where to go, but my legs took me to the meadow. I fell to my knees and prayed to God to tell me it's not true.

I punched the ground a few times, I screamed and cursed my cousin. I would rather fight through battles than live my life the way it is now. Was Rose even my child? How would I know when I wasn't here for any part of her existence.

I thought back to the visit I made to that brothel. I paid for a womans touch, but I couldn't do what I paid to do. The woman pleased me by the use of her mouth, but I never entered that woman. I never cared for that woman, but my wife and Armstrong is another story. Is she in love with him? Is that why she doesn't want to leave?

That night of my last visit, I treated Naomi as she was no better than a whore. I made her put her mouth on me to erase the memory of the brothel. She promised no man would ever touch her, yet she allowed my cousin.

She said she learned the risk of disease. Was this revenge or true love? I told her I witnessed a rape and did nothing. Does she think I'm no better than Thomas Vest or Robert Morgan?

She said she felt guilt, and I thought she was having some sort of misplaced guilt over her assaults.

Flashes of how beautiful, wild, but innocent she was when we first married, then the person she was after that man whipped her and left those horrible scars. She unknowingly housed our enemy when she allowed Claudine to stay, and eventually was sexually assaulted two more times. She was vulnerable, and my cousin took advantage.

It's a good thing he's at the front instead of here, he might find himself dead.

I will fix my wife if it's the last thing I do on this earth, and I will give her another daughter. I haven't forgiven her, and I may never, but the hypocrisy of my anger keeps me from punishing her now, but someday she will know I'm fully aware of everything.