~~
I thought to return to our lodging for our discussion; for that was where Annalea now was heading. Then I thought more on it and better of it. Such a conversation at the lodging would have to involve Mam' Tiére, who resided with us. Not that such would provide a problem. Mam's counsel and tender persuasions would most likely ease the matter considerably. But I'd already determined this to be me own duty, as papa. I'd not cower 'hind Mam's skirts while she delivered the distressing news to me baby. 'Twas blessing enough to know Mam' was there to console our precious, aft' I shattered her world.
So I redirected Annalea's footsteps, and–once more–I headed for the seclusion of the beach. When we were full alone–far from prying eyes and curious ears, I stopped her near the water's edge, and turned her to face me. I'd expected me inquisitive little sprite to have belaboured me with a thousand questions by now; she never is patient when she knows you know something she knows not! But not a word–not a sound did she utter through our entire trek to that spot. 'Twas as if the weightiness of what would be exposed was already pressing upon her, binding her mind and muting her tongue.
She now stood afore me–me hands resting on her shoulders. She looked up into me eyes and said only, "Aye, Papa?"
A shiver ran fast down me spine; I actually felt meself tremble. What had occurred to me (as if transported, in that instant) was the culmination of an event I'd briefly contemplated on Nemusmar–while under the influence of most dire distress. When I thought I would have to shoot me own daughter! When I thought that was the only way to salvage her soul from the wickedness of this world. And as she stood afore me now, 'twas exactly as I'd envisioned it would be, on that fateful moment. I felt the most scurrilous assassin!
I'll not, now, recount and relive the tribulations of that hour. Knowing all that's gone afore, you can well imagine the emotions, the exasperations and the angst that played out. Everything I'd considered–everything I'd contemplated–everything I'd dreaded: it all was said–and felt, and suffered–on that beach! In the end, Annalea accepted it all. And I knew that in a short time, her brave heart would enable her to face it all. But that time was not yet. Drained of emotions and words, we sat down together upon that beach. She laid her head in her papa's lap and–for the first time since our arrival on that island–she cried. The tears flowed well up into the night. Hers and mine.
Concerned by the lateness of the hour–'though doubtless she knew the reason for our absence–Mam' Tiére had made her way out to, and along, the beach. Having located us–unbeknownst to us–she sat at some distance from us, allowing that moment of man and girl–bonded in the spirit–to play through. When the sobbing had diminished to an inaudible level, she approached us.
She came 'round afore us, humming softly as she approached, so's not to startle us. "How be Mam's two best loves? Ma baby an' her papa?"
We both looked to her–warmly but wearily. As she sat down aside us, Annalea shifted her position to hug Mam' and rest her cheek on Mam's breast. Then–as I'd conjectured–the healing began. Mam's soothing, sensitive and most sensible words put matters in a perspective I could but awkwardly replicate. The tears were gone. Smiles ensued. Not the joyous smiles which presuppose eruptive laughter, but the embellishment of a countenance reflecting inner contentment.