I think that you're making England seem more exciting than it actually is,” Patrick said to her as Enola hung on to the side of the ship, staring at the shoreline. They would be docked in a few hours, and she would finally get to see the world Patrick had grown up in.
It was only going to be a short visit, at the invitation of their dear friends. Nevertheless, she was excited to explore the world beyond their forest.
“I'm going to die,” Jacob said beside her as Mary rubbed his back. Enola rolled her eyes as she reached to get her smelling salts. Jacob was horrible with ships, it turned out. There was little chance he would ever cross the ocean again. Enola, however, couldn't wait to do it again and again. Her eyes were alight with excitement as they drew closer.
“If you die,” she asked casually. “Does Mary have your permission to remarry someone who isn't afraid of a little choppy water?”
“Absolutely,” Jacob glanced up at his wife, who smiled softly. “If she wants.”
“If you vomit on her shoes one more time, she might,” Enola answered. “Are you alright, Patrick?”
“Aye,” Patrick replied. “Especially now that we can see the land.”
Enola exchanged a glance with Mary, who shrugged. Sometimes, it was women who had to be the strong ones.
By the time they had docked, Jacob had recovered enough to manage walking off the ship.
Enola had dressed down, not wanting to startle people who might never have seen a Native, let alone a princess. Patrick had told her she could wear whatever she wanted, but she wanted to be anonymous; to enjoy her visit.
Apparently, the others hadn't gotten the message. Two carriages fit for royalty waited by the docks, and Enola watched as the doors opened.
Both of the women wore coronets, their dresses magnificent as they stepped out. The villagers waiting nearby clearly knew of the grand ladies, and dipped low.
Lola only smiled as she saw Enola's face, racing to her.
“Oh my, you are quite the spectacle,” Enola said with a smile as she embraced her. “I thought we were going to slip in unnoticed.”
“Not in this city,” Lola replied. “I lived in the grand mansion for so long, and I am a bit dramatic. These Irish country folk will never forget me.”
“They might if you stopped putting on plays in the middle of town square,” Annabelle said, joining her. “I hope you are hungry, there is a grand feast prepared.”
“Oh yes,” Enola said, taking Patrick's hand. “We are ready.”
“How is married life treating you?” Lola asked as they slipped into one carriage. Jacob and Mary took the second one with Annabelle, and they both started rolling toward the hillside.
Enola glanced to Patrick. She had been bursting with her secret since they had left the colonies and she couldn't wait another moment longer.
“We're enjoying our last few days alone,” she said, and Lola squealed.
“Are you expecting a child?”
“I am,” Enola answered, and Lola reached forward to hug her again.
“Congratulations!” she cried. “That's wonderful news. Congratulations, Patrick! When are you due to deliver?”
“Around Christmastime,” Enola said, squeezing her husband's hand. “I'll write you as soon as I can.”
“Yes, you must,” Lola said. “I will send presents; your child will never know anything but bright and colorful clothing.”
Patrick smiled as he looked out the window.
“Where's your more subdued husband, Lola?”
“He's at the house,” she replied. “All the men are. Of course, Aaron can't go into town much, and since he couldn't go, the others decided to stay with him.”
“And everyone is...well?” Enola knew that Wesley's recovery had been hard, and they had made the journey back on a hope and prayer.
“He is better,” Lola said. “He's already been into the office several times, and every time he comes back with renewed strength. I think we will be able to return to the city permanently soon. We were happy to wait until after your visit, of course.”
The manor soon came into the sight, and Enola could see the lawn full of friendly faces.
Aaron and Harold were outside, playing with the children. She saw a young woman with the stunning blue Bamber eyes that she realized must be Aaron's daughter, her dark hair a reminder of the woman who must be her mother. The two younger ones, Harold's daughter and son, giggled around their cousin as they ran through the flowers.
Wesley's eyes cast up at the carriage’s approach, and he stood, looking much stronger than when he had left.
Enola had thought they would never all be together in one place again. She had hoped they would be, but they had been through so much. Her world had changed, and changed again, and she no longer looked at things the same way.
She had thought they would always have war surrounding them, written on their faces and heavy on their shoulders.
Now, under the sun, they looked younger, happier; as if she had stepped back in time.
Even Patrick seems happier, basking under the Irish sun as he greets his friends.
Enola grasped his hand as the laughter of children surrounded them.
She had never been able to imagine such a future for herself, but now, looking around, she couldn't imagine it any other way.
Home wasn't in the colonies, in the forest, with the British or the Natives. Home was where Patrick was, and wherever he went, she would follow. Home was where the heart was.