by Brianna G. Harte
Sitting on the wooden chair, rolling back and forth with the wind waving wisps of golden hair into her face, Cecilia put her hand atop a large, soft hand resting on her shoulder. She peered up at him with a gentle smile. His hazel eyes gazed into the sunset, making them seem golden. The black suit he wore with a buttoned cotton shirt lying beneath made him seem much more intense than his spirit would allow, for peace was his companion he waited for when he returned home from riding in a horse-drawn carriage for hours a day.
“Darling,” Cecilia breathed quietly.
“Yes, my dearest?”
“Shall you truly leave me so soon?”
A sigh flew with the crackling leaves into the wind as he patted her shoulder. “I’m afraid so, my lovely. Meetings in the capital require all community leaders to come together or our fair town shall be left in the dust with its future as unclear as a foggy morn.”
“Oh, darling, leave me not,” she begged. “The house is too large for comfort to find a single heart. How I wish you could stay longer.”
Leaving the seat with not a soul to sit upon it, Cecilia entered the house with the wooden boards creaking beneath her feet. Gradual movements led to a fireplace ready for kindling. The splintered wood told her of Nicholas’ steady work the past few hours in the nearby forest. A heavy pile lay in his arms with an axe on top, leaving small scraps all over his ruffled shirt, but no feelings of sorrow could accompany his pale face. As he placed them on the hearth, he continued to glance at Cecilia. He rubbed the small pieces off his jacket and embraced her, smelling the mint on her clothes. While her face brightened, she had to pull away. They had exchanged words with forlorn brows.
Cecilia reached down toward the fireplace, but hesitated. “Perhaps not today. The light cannot brighten our home if you are gone.”
“Drown out the cold, my dearest. Let it blaze and warm your heart while I am away.” Hugging her gently and touching his lips to her face, he wondered of the future.
“Just do not stay too long. He will come soon, and I need you here when he does.”
“Indeed, my lovely. Indeed.”
Copyright © 2015 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.