Striking Gold

10. What I Feel

Hilda groaned angrily as she grabbed her dress skirt and pulled it up, climbing into the river, walking across it, and onto the tiny island she had been on just yesterday. She slumped down next to the carved trees, wiping her eyes from the tears that bubbled in them.

She didn't want anyone to see her cry.

Not her Mother.

Not Ophelia.

And especially not Henry sodding Brookshaw.

Hugging her knees close to her chest, Hilda rested her head on her knees as she stared at the rock across from her.

"HILDA?!"

Hilda chuckled sardonically. She'd seen this play before and disliked the scene's portrayal.

"HILDA!"

She will not listen to a stupid boy.

"HILDA MONTAGUE, ANSWER ME!"

"Go away!" Hilda yelled back, hoping her angry tone would scare him away, but instead, Henry emerged from the bush's edge and without thinking, he marched into the river and up towards the edge of the island and climbed on, standing on his feet and kneeling close to her.

"Thank goodness I found you! What happened?" Henry asks, his warm brown eyes filled with worry.

Hilda snickers maliciously, "As if you don't know."

"Know what, Hilda? You just left my aunt and uncle's house without an explanation."

"'I showed her I was much more of a man!' Does that ring any bells, you deceitful pig?!" Hilda sneered, clinging to her knees closer to her chest.

Henry sighed. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Don't you dare get mad at me when you're the one who couldn't even climb a damn tree without having sore hands! Some man!"

"Hilda, that wasn't about you!" Henry exclaimed.

"Then what was it about?" Hilda seethed.

Henry inhaled, wiping his face with both hands as he looked at her. "Do you really want to know?"

"Would you rather I think you are a hypocrite just like my Mother?" Hilda retorted sarcastically.

Henry waved his hand exasperatingly, "Fine! It was about me." He sighs, looking into her eyes as he sat down onto a rock, "I told you about my family, my mother's death."

Hilda nods, but fails to see what that had to do with his comments.

He sighed, rubbing his face, "I was an arrogant nasty person after my mother died, and took after my father in many ways, so what you heard was me telling my friends was how glad I was that you challenged me. You made me want to prove myself. When I climbed that tree, I remembered my mother and her wishes, and I imagined her sitting in the tree, cheering me on even when you were teasing. You pushed me into wanting to prove I could be better than my uncle, my father, my friends, and the Henry you met at the bridge near the river."

"Wh-why?" she asks, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

Hhenry chuckles as he continues, "And I think in those few days, I felt what my parents felt for each other."

"And what was that?" Hilda asks, her cool gaze meeting his warmer eyes.

"Admiration. Desire. Love."

Hilda widened her eyes, her cheeks becoming rogue.

Desire?

"Desire?" she echoes.

Henry shakes his head, a small smile creeping on his lips. "Desire."