Over and Over Again | ONC 2023

Chapter 2

Spring, early 1800's

Aurelia immediately shivered as she stepped out of the shop and the cool air brushed against her body. The moon and stars were already out, but the oil lamp she held illuminated the nearly empty street with its warm, soft glow.

Just as she locked the door, she heard loud, quick steps against the cobblestone approaching.

A man riding a horse drawn wagon stopped in front of her shop. He hastily climbed down and came up to her. "I'm so sorry to bother you Miss, but are you still open?"

She was utterly exhausted. A woman with six children and three baskets full of clothing had come in that morning. A stray dog had gotten into their backyard where the clothing was hung to dry and tore up everything within reach.

Fortunately for them, Aurelia was an experienced, skilled tailor. She was skilled in many things – being immortal leaves you with plenty of time to pick up and master hobbies. Most pieces were salvageable, though the ones ripped completely into shreds were turned into socks, scarves, and handkerchiefs.

It took hours to finish, and the impatient children had made a mess of the store by the time she was done. It appeared as if a pack of wild animals had gone through the store; unraveled spools of thread, ripped fabric scraps, chalk scribbled on the walls, and pin cushions with their pins missing. She ended up spending the rest of the evening tidying up.

Maria, Aurelia's apprentice, worked six days a week in the shop with her. Today just had to be her day off.

Aurelia was about to turn the man away, but she paused. She lifted her lamp higher to get a better look at him and felt her heart palpitate. She didn't know what it was, but she immediately knew there was something special about him.

There was something about the way the soft light reflected in his eyes – mesmerizing pools of golden hazel. Almost ethereal, his wavy brown hair glimmered where it caught the light. His expression was kind and genuine, someone you knew you could trust with your deepest thoughts and secrets. She didn't even know his name but was already enthralled, falling under his spell.

"Please," he asked again, "I work at the bakery, my father will have my head if I show up in this uniform tomorrow."

Aurelia cleared her throat and tried to dissipate the fogginess in her brain. She peered behind him into the wagon. "You're sure you're a baker?" The wagon was filled with what looked like dozens of burnt, misshapen loaves of bread.

He noticed her gaze and laughed sheepishly. "The only thing my family trusted me to do was mill the flour, but I insisted the other day that I could do more," he said. "So far, it hasn't been going very well."

Aurelia chuckled and let out a soft sigh. Sleep could wait. "Come in," she said as she unlocked the door.

"Thank you," he said, grabbing his own oil lamp from the wagon and following her inside. "I'm Derek, Derek Baker by the way."

"Aurelia Taylor."

She sat down at her sewing machine and he handed her a long sleeved, white shirt. Aurelia's eyes widened as she examined it. The cuffs were completely singed; charcoal black around the wrists and burnt umber up to the elbows. It smelled faintly of smoke and liquor.

"Do you work with dragons?" Aurelia joked.

He blushed and gave her an embarrassed smile. "Just a small incident involving fire, rum, and baked Alaska."

She laughed and returned to his shirt. It seemed like a simple enough problem. "Do your arms ever get cold at the bakery?" she asked.

He shook his head. "The opposite, in fact."