Itâs . . . to be quite honest, it can be terribly difficult,â she admitted. âBut I have one student who cannot get enough of books and sheâll have to leave school soon enough to take care of her younger siblings. And all I want is to give her more.â
âMore what?â
âMore knowledge. More time. More options,â she said, finding herself misty again, and damning herself for it. âI wasted mine, after all.â She cocked her head to the side, regarded him. âWhat did you think I would be doing all this time? Or did you think about me at all?â
âI thought about you, Cee,â he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered in her chest and started beating out a new rhythm.
âI thought you would have married. Found some fool to bat your eyes at, and youâd be wrangling your own several brats by now.â
A pang rang through her body. That imageâthe fool and the brats surrounding her, as she sat in front of a fireplace and darned socks and helped children learn to walk, and had someone to hold on the cold nightsâthat was something she refused to let herself think on. Because, she told herself, it was something she would never have.
It was too dangerous to let herself indulge in that fantasy. If she ever did meet someoneâsomeone worth havingâshe could not keep the past a secret. She couldnât not tell that person, because if he ever found out on his own, he would hate her for not telling him. And once he did know . . . he would be gone. No, there was too much risk.
In her entire life, there had only ever been one man sheâd ever risked anything for. Everything for.
And look how that turned out.
âWhat about me?â he said, trying to sound jovial. âWhat did you think I would be?â
âNot an attorney,â she replied, letting one dimple show. âFunny, but I always thought you would have taken to the sea.â
âThe sea?â
âYes. Either via conscription or transportation, but I saw a voyage in your future.â
He cracked a smile at that. Then the carriage lurched to a halt. âWell, youâll have to wait to hear tell of my seafaring adventures.â He gestured toward the imposing gray stone structure outside the window. It lined a courtyard, filled with rows and rows of soldiers in perfect, crisp uniforms, practicing movements. âWeâre here.â
5
T heo stepped out of the carriage and automatically turned to help Cecilia down. She put her hand lightly in his, and then immediately let go once she was on the ground. No contact any longer than necessary. Which was good, he decided. From the moment she showed up at Lord Ashbyâs door his entire body had been awakened to herâaware of her from across the room, across the carriage. He found his body bending when hers did, leaning in as she did. When she brushed an errant curl back behind her ear, he felt it in his fingertips.
Thus any actual physical contact might prove his undoing.
She was getting under his skin. One morning, barely a few hours in each otherâs company, and he found himself thrown into the past and forcing himself to remember how they had ended, and why.
Heâd broken once, when sheâd spoken about her fatherâs funeral. That had struck him in the gut, and he couldnât stop himself from reaching for her.
Strange, but heâd thought he had more discipline than this. Considering how angry he was at her, how much heâd spent the last ten years cold and hardened by her actions, the fact that his body was betraying him in this way made him wary about being around her any longer than necessary.
Cee. His little Cee.
She wasnât that different. The years had thinned her a bit, her face had lost its youthful fullness, but in its place were graceful cheekbones and a directness that she didnât have before. And occasionally, glasses. But just underneath the
Bohumil Hrabal, Michael Heim, Adam Thirlwell