Being a Barrow - A Sequel to Barrow's Boy

What the Flame Seeks

     For the first time in his life, Theodore visited his mother's grave on the anniversary of her death.

     He went alone, though he knew others would have joined if he had asked. No, he didn't want them there. He had to do this alone. 

     He was gentle as he placed down the flowers, purple hyacinth, by the tombstone. 

     "I keep thinking," Teddy said quietly to the words on the stone as if they could respond. "Wondering, more like. Of what you would do if you were in my shoes. Did you ever lie to people and say you had a husband? That I wasn't illegitimate?"

    Theodore doubted it. She was far too courageous for that.

     "I've said it before, but it's always true," Teddy put his hands in his pockets. "I never understand how I can miss you so much when I barely remember you. Maybe that's why. I have to mourn the memories lost to the years."

     Unsurprisingly, Theodore's only answer was the sound of the wind.

     "I don't remember where I was fifteen years ago." The fateful day.

     "Was I there, Mum? Was I in the building? Or was I somewhere far from you, completely unaware of what was happening?"

     Nobody had ever told him the answer. He knew better than to ask about that day.

    Thomas was always less talkative on that day, though it had gotten somewhat easier over the years. He could always hear her nagging in the back of his head.

    "Don't be sad today over me. You know I want you to be happy."

    Funny how even in death, she wouldn't leave him be. It was classic Eliza.

     Nobody had noticed a pattern until a few years ago. When Phyllis had arrived. Suddenly, for that one day, people left him alone. Of course, he could do without the pitying looks from some of the female staff- it had been fifteen years, after all. But at least he could eat his breakfast in peace.

     Unless certain young men had other ideas.

    The bell ringing behind him grabbed Thomas' attention.

     "The back door," he acknowledged. "Andy, could you-" 

     Andy was already up and moving, so Thomas found no need to finish his sentence. All was blessedly quiet. Until it wasn't.

    "Thomas!" Thomas shut his eyes, gathering himself. It was too early for the urgency in that voice. "Uncle Thomas! How's it going?"

   Quickly, as he walked in, everyone at the servant's table stood. They, aside from Thomas, quickly sat again after behind waved off.

    "Hello, Everett," Thomas opened his eyes and turned to the young man. Beside him was another, slightly shorter man with black hair. Thomas could not help but notice the nearly-healed mark on his face.

     "This is Victor. Victor, Mr. Thomas Barrow. He's Theodore's father."

    "Ah," Victor acknowledged, extending his hand. "I rather like your son."

    "Many of us do," Miss Baxter said as she lowered herself back into her seat.

    "How can I help you, boys?"

    Thomas could not help but notice that each of them had a valise with them. He had a bad feeling that-

    "We desperately need to get out of the city. And not in a homesick way, in a serious way. So, I was hoping we could stay here for a few days?"