Amala glanced at Henry again to see him lift his chin, and there was a slight softening in his eyes and in his voice. “I couldn’t bear to lose you either.” He straightened his shoulders and added, “I believe you should send for the doctor. And perhaps when you’re done here, you should each have some time with her. I could be wrong, but I don’t think it will be long now.”

Amala turned to look at her father, who nodded stoutly while his chin quivered and he bit his lip. Viola bowed her head and put her napkin over her mouth as if to keep from crying out. Henry left the room. Oliver sat back down. Viola wept quietly. Amala stared at the food on her plate that she’d barely touched and had no desire to eat. After long moments of silence, Paulina said quietly, “Forgive me if this is not the right time or if it’s none of my business to say so, but apparently Kat’s final wish has caused a great upset. Amala has shared a great deal with me, but—”

“She wants Henry and me to get married,” Amala said, wanting her to know and unable any longer to bear the tension in the air. Paulina gasped before Amala continued. “Until today neither Henry nor I even suspected that any of you knew about me and Henry—except for what I had told Paulina. I believe Henry is quite upset—understandably so—to consider what Kat might have been thinking about the entire situation all this time and the fact that he never told her. She was completely kind and understanding—as one would expect—but the implications are . . . complicated and confusing at best.”

“Yes, they certainly are,” Paulina said with the perfect compassion she was known for—and one of the reasons Amala loved her so dearly.

Amala rose from the table as well, unable to sit there with a meal she had no intention of finishing while the tension in the room felt unbearable. They all knew the truth; there were no more secrets. But Amala had trouble reckoning with her reasons for keeping it all a secret to begin with. At the time it had all made sense to her; now she wasn’t so sure she’d done the right thing. And yet, if she’d made a different choice, Kat and Henry would not have come together, and precious little Harry would not even exist. How could she feel regret when considering such things? And yet she did. She felt certain that Henry’s anger was mostly her fault, but she didn’t know how to rectify it when Kat’s death was at the door.

“I need some time alone,” she declared. “I’m certain we’ll have plenty of time to talk about this ludicrous situation far more than any of us probably want to.” Hearing her own tone of voice, she knew that Henry wasn’t the only one who was angry.

* * * *