Between Sin and Salvation

Chapter VIII

The sun was setting as Louise stepped into the library, the last rays of light casting a dim glow through the tall, arched windows. The scent of fresh ink mixed with the musk of old paper and dust danced in the air, illuminated by the fading sunlight. Tall shelves of dark wood lined the walls, groaning under the weight of countless books. A rolling ladder stood nearby, ready for those needing to reach the highest shelves.

Brass chandeliers hung low, their warm, flickering light adding a soft glow to the room. In the center, large oak tables with green-shaded lamps stood sturdy and inviting, the chairs around them worn but comfortable. As Louise took in the quiet rustle of pages and the stillness of the room, she felt a rare sense of peace, as if this place surrounded by knowledge was the closest thing she had to feeling at home.

She didn't know what compelled her to come here. Every reason, every justification, fizzled out before it could fully form. Since the charity gala, her thoughts had been in disarray, as if her mind had yet to return to solid ground. Not to mention, whenever her thoughts started to stray to him, a war of conflicting emotions erupted within her. She'd been reaching for the tablets more often than she should, desperate to numb the turmoil before her traitorous mind could seize on it, twist it, and use it against her.

Louise's grip tightened around the worn leather strap of her satchel as she spotted Ada Thorne bent over the receptionist's desk, sifting through a stack of papers. Ada's outfit, a red blouse beneath a black blazer paired with a matching black skirt, stood out against the muted light of the library. The rustling of paper stilled as Ada's head snapped up when she heard Louise's approach.

"Louise," Ada greeted, a corner of her red-painted lips curling into a half-smile. "I was wondering when you'd make an appearance," she glanced at the gold wristwatch gleaming on her arm, "and at this hour, no less."

Louise shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Better late than never, I hear," she replied, a hesitant smile on her lips. "How is little Karl doing?" she asked, the words tumbling out almost as an afterthought. Yes, that's why she was here; a good doctor always followed up with their patients. The excuse felt thin, but it was something to cling to. She let out a deep exhale and relaxed her shoulders, finally able to rationalize her behavior.

Ada's eyes glinted with something between amusement and understanding. "Much better," she straightened and leaned casually against the desk. "The medicine you prescribed worked wonders."

"That's good to hear," Louise tapped her fingers against her trousers as her curiosity got the better of her. The question had been lingering in the back of her mind since their first encounter. "I never did ask, why did you name your boy after Marx? Was it just a nod to your love for his philosophy?"

She knew she should keep her distance from all things Shelby. But there was something about Ada, something kindred, perhaps a shared thirst for knowledge and independence.

A sad smile graced Ada's face, her voice barely above a whisper. "The late Mr. Thorne," she began, her tone laced with reverence, "Freddie... he was a communist and something real special." Her hand trembled as she ran it through her wavy hair, "Survived a bloody war just to be taken by influenza."

Louise blinked, and she had just opened the clinic. Every cot was filled, the violent shivering of the patients rattled the metal frames, while dry coughs echoed through the cramped room. The Spanish flu would go on to claim more lives than the great war ever could. Louise briefly shut her eyes tightly, then forced herself to meet Ada's gaze once more.

"He is - was a revolutionary," Ada corrected herself, her voice breaking slightly. "I truly believe he would've achieved great things. He would've propelled the working class, the proletariat, forward, giving them the power they're owed." Her throat bobbed as she swallowed the lump forming there. "He would've helped end their exploitation." Unshed tears welled in her eyes. "And worst of all, he would've been a fucking amazing father." The words escaped her in a heavy breath, her eyes drifting past Louise's shoulder as if the confession had slipped out unbidden, revealing more than she intended