Chapter 7: Fields of Forgiveness

“Mommy, mommy, won’t you sleep with Jamie tonight?” I heard Jamie’s soft voice say this familiar line and felt a headache coming on. Looking at Jamie on the bed, I just wanted to throw him out of the mansion. He was too much like his mother.

Who knows who this brat takes after, sitting on the bed, arms outstretched for the little one, lips quivering, eyes red as if about to cry. “Of course, mommy will sleep with Jamie tonight!” The little one hurried forward. I could only watch.

I clearly saw Jamie flash a victorious smile at me! Only the little one could be so easily fooled! I picked up Jamie, and his previously upturned mouth instantly drooped. Before the little one could comfort him, I sent him to his nanny.

“If he cries once tonight, I’ll tan your hide.” I said this to Jamie, and sure enough, he immediately stopped crying. Just as kindhearted as the little one, and just as sly as a fox. Tonight, the little one was finally mine alone. Thinking of this, I happily went back inside.

One day, after returning from the office, Jamie ran into my arms. Only when the little one wasn’t around would he be affectionate with me. I hugged Jamie and noticed the book in his hands, bigger than his face.

“I found this at the bottom of mom’s trunk, hidden very well.” Jamie whispered in my ear. It must be a treasured item. I promised not to let the little one sleep with me tonight in exchange for the book. He grinned, satisfied.

The book was an old textbook from Maple Heights Academy, nothing special. But one page held a pressed peach blossom; when the wind blew, it seemed you could still smell the faint fragrance and see the little one, then only knee-high, under the peach tree that year.

The darkened edge of the blossom showed how long it had been kept there. And the slightly curled page corners showed it had been read over and over, day after day. I felt a lump in my throat.

I gently closed the book and carefully put it back in the box with the masks we wore at the Valentine’s parade, looking at the sunlight streaming in, my heart filled with a restless excitement. Tonight, I was afraid I would break my promise to Jamie. I just wanted her beside me.

One night, as I caressed the little one’s delicate face, I thought of how she used to insist I liked Quinn and found it funny. “Emmy, why were you so sure I liked Quinn? As if you saw it yourself.”

The little one raised her head from my arms and said, “When I was twelve, you and Harrison were kept after class. I was bored waiting at your house, so I went to your studio to find a book and saw the painting you left on your desk. It wasn’t finished, so I couldn’t tell who it was, but I saw the white pearl hairpin in the hair.”

I looked at her, still not understanding why I would like Quinn. “That was Quinn’s new hairpin. After that, I paid attention and saw you would always sneak glances at her in class. When I realized this, I was sad for days and avoided seeing you. I liked you so much, and Quinn was my best friend, who put up with my bad temper. I thought if you two were together, it would be fine.”

Hearing this, I found it amusing. After all this, it was just because of a painting. “That day, the second brother stopped me and said some nasty things, so I was late to the Academy. I was in a bad mood, but when I walked in and saw you with that white pearl hairpin, smiling so brightly, all my gloom disappeared. The hairpin suited you so well. I wondered why I never saw you wear it again—turns out it wasn’t yours.”

The little one didn’t speak for a long time; I thought she had fallen asleep. Suddenly, I felt tears falling on my chest, drop by drop, soaking a patch. “I never thought you would like me,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Not even in my dreams.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I gently turned her over and, heart pounding, kissed the tears from her face. Looking at her trembling, tear-soaked lashes, my heart felt like it was being eaten by a thousand ants. I held her close, wishing I could take away every doubt.

Had I ever thought, had I ever dreamed? I always thought my life was unforgivable. To secure my brother’s inheritance, my hands were dirty. I’d heard the darkest rumors and the most vicious gossip, and thought I was destined to pay for it all my life.

But fate sent a little sun to me, turning hell into a field of flowers. Sometimes, I guess, you get lucky after all.