He checked the ink to make sure it was dry and folded the paper neatly in half. A wonderful idea came to him and he rushed down the stairs and into the den, spying on her from the behind the doorway.
“Raina, thank ye so much for yer help with dinner. As always, it was absolutely wonderful!” Kathryn beamed, helping her on with her coat.
“I vas afraid because I know nossing of zis holiday. Sank you so much, Mum.”
“Believe me dear, last Thanksgivin’ was a disaster! The other young lady we had with us didn’t know a turkey from a pig!” Kathryn laughed.
Owen was pleased with the change in his aunt’s behavior. No more screaming. No more ordering. Aunt Kathryn had become a delight and only put on airs for strangers now. She’d become accustomed to everyone under her roof and despite Dell, was so much happier relating to them and letting them all in. Her pretense and flaunting ways all but fell away in the months of sharing her home with the Whelans.
“Raina, wait,” Owen said, finally stepping into the kitchen. “I wanted to share this book with ye. It’s my favorite so far–well, besides my medical books. It’s the first book I read when I arrived that day, remember?” He held the book out to her, nodding his head as he thought about the day she ran him out of the kitchen for the first time. There was something sentimental in her eyes and he caught a glimpse of the face he’d first seen, chopping vegetables and preparing his first American meal.
“A Christmas Carol, remember?”
“My uncle has many books. Zey are moschtly about real people.”
“Even better to read this one. It’s a ghost story but don’t let that scare ye off readin’ it.”
“Raina, take the book,” Kathryn subtly insisted, taking it from Owen herself and placing it firmly in Raina’s hands. “Goodnight, dear. We’ll see ye at seven, as usual.”
Raina tucked the book inside her coat and nodded before finally rushing out into the cold November air. Owen watched from the window until she was out of sight.
“Owen, I do wish ye’d walk that girl home,” Kathryn stated.
“I’ve asked her lots of times, Aunt Kathryn, but she said her aunt would be upset if she saw me walking with her.”
“I do not understand Bridget one little bit!” Kathryn exclaimed and then stepped out of the kitchen.
* * *
Raina’s aunt waited at the door as she always did. Raina always ate her supper at the Doyle’s and usually went straight to her room upon arriving back home in the evening. Once her aunt made her usual inquiries about the day and excused herself, Raina removed her coat and rushed upstairs to her bedroom, clutching the book at her chest between her folded arms. She quietly closed her bedroom door and sat the book down on her dresser while she readied herself for bed.
“Raina? I forgot to ask you…how vas your dinner tonight? Did you enjoy ze American Sanksgifink?” her aunt asked through the door.
“Yes, Aunt Bridget. It vas a good meal.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the book as it sat beneath her lamp while she dressed. A ghost story, she thought, sending a tingle of excitement throughout her. Certainly such a critically acclaimed book would not be against the rules to read in her uncle’s home. With the anticipation building, she whipped her nightgown up and over her so fast she nearly put her head through an arm hole, causing a soft giggle to escape her lips. Once she untangled herself, she hopped into bed, tucked herself in and opened the book.
“Raina, it’s fery late and I don’t adfise schtaying up to read,” her aunt said, entering the room unannounced.
“Oh, but I am not sleepy, Aunt Bridget.”
“Vat is zis book you hafe here?” Her aunt snatched the book from Raina’s hands.
“It is about a Chrischtmas carol.” She sat up but didn’t dare reach for the book.
“A Chrischtmas carol? Like a song?” her aunt asked, turning the book over.
“I do not sink so. It is a schtory about one, maybe?”
“Vere did you get zis book?” Her aunt’s eyes narrowed and her voice lowered.
“From Mr. Vhelan. He sought I vould…”
“You accepted zis book from ze boy?”
“Aunt Bridget, Mrs. Doyle handed it to me. O’en only asked if I would like to read it.”
“O’en? You vill take it back in the mornink. You do not need to take books from zem. We have many fine books here. Go to sleep.”
Her aunt stood with the book in her hand and turned briskly to leave the room. As she approached the door, the book tilted and slid in her fingers, until she carelessly held it by just the front cover, as if she were holding a rat by its tail. It fanned open and flopped about between her fingertips. Raina gasped and sat up when she saw something fluttering in the air between the book and the rug and it landed, still folded neatly in half, at her aunt’s feet.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Raina arrived and returned the book without incident. She quietly placed it in its proper place on the shelf in the den, put on her apron and went straight to work. Owen’s knees were knocking when he heard the back door open that morning and was too frightened to even lay eyes on Raina for fear she’d extend her long slim arm and slap him with her strong right hand. His fear was relieved when he quietly crept into the kitchen to pack himself a lunch for school and was greeted warmly by her.
“Good mornink, O’en. I returned ze book.”
“Uh…good mornin’ Raina,” he replied, peeking over at her.
That was the extent of their exchange–except for her smile. That broad, beautiful smile he’d missed so much. He inhaled it and practically held his breath all day, allowing it to lighten his steps and raise him above any worries he previously had. He was feeling as if he’d removed a hat that was too tight or laid down a shovel after a day of digging. When he walked out of school, the falling snow was just the sign he needed to remind him that Christmas was around the corner and soon thereafter, yet another chapter in his life would begin.
Owen burst through the front door at four o’clock sharp, having barely shaken the fresh snow from his coat. By the time he realized his shoulders were covered in white, most of it had fallen to the floor and a puddle was building under his feet. “Oh no, I’ll have me head chewed off fer this mess,” he mumbled, looking in every direction and seeing no one.
He believed himself and his puddle unnoticed and scrambled to the kitchen for the mop. Raina was placing dinner in the oven as he flew to the small closet and pulled it open.
“Vat are you doink?”
“I need a mop. I’ve made a mess in the foyer.”
“I clean it,” she declared, pulling the mop out from under him and heading for the front door.
Owen dashed along behind her and watched as she swung the mop back and forth and back and forth effortlessly.
“You vatch me?” She straightened up, hand on her hip, and looked over her shoulder at him quizzically.
Owen’s face turned bright red and he snatched his books, dashed off into the den and pulled the door closed. He was completely taken aback by Raina’s remark because it was true. He was watching her from behind and found the swaying of her body hypnotizing; perhaps even more so than he’d realized. Maybe he really did love her. Either way, he wouldn’t be coming out of the den until supper and had plenty to occupy his mind until then.
Within an hour, Owen’s eyes became tired from studying and he needed a stretch as well. The clock above the fireplace told him it was nearly five o’clock and he decided he might as well go wash up for supper. He stood and twisted this way and that way and up on his toes. When he turned towards the bookshelf, he remembered the returned book, slid it from its resting place, and moved his hand lovingly over the cover. He breathed in the scent of leather and paper. As he replaced it on the shelf, he noticed a tiny gap between the pages in the center of the book.
“She didn’t even read it!” he said, ripping the book open and snatching the folded piece of paper from within.
He f
lopped into the chair, holding the letter in his hands, and stared at the floor. He contemplated tossing it into the fire. Something gnawed at him to read it back to himself one last time before burning it and ridding himself of any memory of playing such a fool. When he tried to peel it open, he found that the pages were slightly stuck together, which puzzled him as he was certain he’d allowed the ink to dry completely before folding it. He tugged at it until with a light pop, it separated from itself, sending a long narrow lock of golden hair fluttering forth and he nearly tumbled head first into the fire to catch it.
He clutched the hair and his joy hit him square in the chest. The scent of lavender tickled his brain. She’d written an obviously swift and brief reply, evident by the fact that the ink was still wet when she placed the note back into the book for him to find.
Danke. I am happy. I am friend.
Raina
Owen had no idea what the first word meant but it didn’t matter. He understood the rest perfectly and longed for supper to end so he might have even a moment alone with her. The curiosity of what the German word was held him on edge and also wanting to ask to escort her half-way home. It was all he could do to contain himself as he watched Raina place dinner on the table.
“How’s yer dinner, Dell?” Kathryn inquired.
“Good,” he grunted. He was still not drinking and plunged farther and farther into himself with each passing day. He called on another interview but returned home again with no news of employment. They all walked on eggshells whenever he was around, waiting for the day the drink took hold of him once again.
“May I help ye with anythin’, Raina?” Rachel asked when supper was over.
“No, Mum. I vill do it.” She glanced over at Owen standing near the back door.
“I’ll help tonight, Ma. I mean, that is if it’s alright?” He looked to Raina for approval.
“Yes. Open may help and gazer the rubbish,” she replied, nodding her head as she washed the dinner plates.
“I’ll leave ye to it then. I’ll see ye when ye come up ta bed, Owen. Stop in and say goodnight please.” She raised her eyebrow at Owen and he wondered if she could feel his awkward thoughts
“I will.”
Owen and Raina set about cleaning the kitchen. He wished he were surer of himself, and of Raina’s feelings for him. Was she content to be his friend, or like Owen himself, did she want something more?
“Zer,” Raina told him when they had finished. “Ve are done. Time to go.”
Owen stood near the back door, holding Raina’s coat and scarf.
“I’m happy you hafe your coat zis time,” Raina remarked as she slid her arms into the sleeves.
“Well, it’s colder than a well digger’s a…”
“A vat?”
“Oh, nothin’. Shall we go?” Owen offered his elbow as they exited the house and walked a slow and deliberate pace. He had no idea where he’d heard such an expression and was grateful he stopped himself from finishing it.
“To ze light post and no furzer,” Raina ordered, looking over at Owen for the first time in thirty paces.
Owen grabbed her hand and pulled her into a dark breezeway between two houses. “Can we stop here a minute?”
“Vy? Vee are almost…”
Before she could finish her sentence, he pressed a quick, tight-lipped kiss on her open mouth and cringed.
“Sorry.”
“I sink you’ve not done zat?” Raina tipped her head to the side and frowned.
“What?”
“I mean to say, you hafe not kissed before?”
“Ye could tell, could ya?”
“In all of your schooling and trafels, you did not know how to kiss ze lips?” Raina giggled, again covering her big broad smile.
Owen pulled her hand gently to his chest.
“No. I don’t know anythin’ about kissin’—or girls. I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Close your mous and do zis,” she explained, pursing her full, pale pink lips slightly. Owen thought they were the loveliest lips he had ever seen—like two rose petals folding away from one another. “Lean to me and do dis,” she continued, tilting her head slightly to the right.
Owen felt his heart swell and thump just listening to her instruction, let alone the view of her face. He leaned closer until he could see nothing beyond her in the darkness. There was no moon and no stars, only their frosty breath and the glow of her pale skin. Instinctively, his hands slid up around her square jaw and his eyes closed.
Raina’s hands gripped the sleeves of his coat, tugging them and pulling him closer until he was pressed against her from his chest to his knees. He fell deeply into those rose petals yet neither crushed nor bruised them. The tender way in which he took care with them was instinctual and not from any instruction or conscious thought. Once that instinct completely took over, it gave way to restraint and control, telling him when they’d both had enough, and reeled him in.
Slightly unsteady, Raina held onto Owen’s coat and then blinked at him several times, as if she were trying to adjust her vision to the darkness. He moved his hands from her face to her shoulders to steady her and then pulled her against him once more, wrapping his arms around her completely.
“Are ye alright?” he whispered in her ear.
“Zat…vas much better,” she answered over a long frosted breath. “I hafe to go now.”
“I know, I’ll watch ye from here.” He held her tightly.
“Now, my hand vill have company ven you go,” she whimpered into his coat.
“Please don’t say that.”
She pulled away and Owen, reluctant to let go, held on long enough to feel her lips one last time and then held onto her hand until they were connected by only their fingertips and she finally let go. Once she disappeared from his sight, he trudged back to the house as if through thick mud and muck. When he reached the rear of his uncle’s house, he fell back against the brick wall and clutched his coat close around his neck, with clouds of crystalized breath bursting from his nose and mouth as he panted. After several minutes, he began to feel normal once again and found the strength to climb the back steps and enter the house. He noticed a light in the den and peeked in and found his Aunt sitting at the desk. He tiptoed away and headed up to bed.
* * *
Kathryn sat alone in the den, answering the letter of her friend in Ireland. As much as she enjoyed Rachel’s company, she longed for the childhood memories and companionship of Elizabeth. Rachel finally admitted to her early the morning after Thanksgiving, of her intentions to find a home of her own, explaining she and Owen had somehow disrupted the balance and familiarity of the house and how their interference had changed the dynamic from what once was manageable for Kathryn into a burden. Kathryn insisted everything would be fine, even citing the change in herself for the better but once Rachel added the desire to be closer to Owen when he started school, Kathryn stepped back. She tried to understand the attachment, despite her childless womb and conceded.
Chapter Twenty-One
Owen lay awake for hours, clutching the lock of hair Raina had enclosed in her note, building one scenario upon the next. He imagined himself and Raina walking together in a park or strolling through the shops in Center City and then dining and dancing away the evening or holding her tight in the frozen night air. Soon he realized he’d been so lost in kissing her, he’d forgotten to ask what that word meant. However, he no longer wondered what the definition was but instead wondered only about an emotional attachment unlike any before, which words could not define.
By morning, he was exhausted, and when Rachel entered his room to wake him, he requested to be excused from school, citing a phantom stomach ailment. He was certain Rachel was wise to him but granted her permission anyway. He hadn’t missed a day of classes since he started but having seen an instructor pull a chair from beneath a napping friend during class, he chose not to take the chance of such an embarrassment, with so much depending on his honor and merit. It
was better for him to miss a day than to risk his future over lost sleep.
By the time he put his feet on the floor, it was nearly nine and he decided he would rather be late than miss the entire day. He scrambled to wash and dress and dashed downstairs into the kitchen for something quick to eat. Raina was going about her usual routine of preparing the meals for the day and was up to her elbows in a bowl of dough. Owen poured a cup of coffee and sat at the small round corner table in the kitchen instead of carrying it to the dining table.
“Good mornin’, Miss Raina,” he said, looking at her over the rim of his cup.
“Good mornink, O'en Vhelan.” She smiled at him as she pounded away at the dough.
“It’s not a wonder ye nearly pulled me sleeves free from me coat with those hands.” He laughed softly.
“Oh you,” she huffed, swiping the dough from her hands and covering it with a cloth.
“Owen? No school today, love?” his aunt inquired, bursting into the kitchen.
“Goin’ in late is all. I wasn’t feelin’ meself this mornin’ but I’m off now.”
Owen poured down the rest of his coffee, made his goodbyes and was gone. He was anxious to get to school and find Vernon. He had a few questions and since Vernon was nearly two years his senior, he may have some insight into courting girls. Christmas break was only a week away and time was rushing by so fast he was afraid he wouldn’t see Vernon ever again once he started at the University.
“Vernon! Wait fer me, mate,” Owen called out when he saw his friend. He noticed Vernon walking toward the lunch hall and ducked between his classmates to catch him.
“Owen, I didn’t see you this morning on the trolley.”
“I slept in. I couldn’t shut me eyes last night.”
“Nose to the books, aye?” Vernon elbowed him with a wink as they stood in line for lunch. “You’re eating school food today, are you?”
Hope from the Ocean: (The Prequel to Fireflies ) Page 17
