Love in 1865

Chapter Two

The last thing I remember seeing was the heart shaped rocks I had previously set on my sister's grave. But as I opened my eyes, I wasn't there anymore. In the room there was a desk with a stack of clothes, that were not my own, folded neatly. Assuming they were left for me, I changed, then exited through the door. There were many doors and hallways with no people filling them.  Just when I found the light, my eyelids grew heavy, and I slunk to the floor. Though when I blinked, I was in my bedroom with my father and mother watching over me. "Gwyneira, we are so glad that you are awake! Paul said a madman attacked you both in the cemetery. Speaking of which, he has a nasty bruise like that on his neck too." Mother adjusted my pillow as I sat up. "Well at least Paul brought you home. So did you get a chance to think about the proposal?" Glaringly, I wanted to remark about how I got the bruise on my neck, but even if he had killed me in daylight, the people would swear him a saint, even if the torture was their own. I said nothing about the meet and asked if they had been to the grave yet, but they too seemed just as uninterested about my conversation as I was to theirs.

I didn't stay home long. I wanted to visit my sister's grave and fix the damage done. Hesitantly, I walked through town with the watchful eyes of those I pass. There were many whispers, but they faded from view as I came upon the wooden steps of the cemetery gate. To my surprise, the grave had already been fixed, and someone left flowers for the two days I had not. Unfortunately, here was my safest place, and even here I am ridiculed and attacked. I leaned against Adalaine's stone, and while others may think of my action as rude or disrespectful to the dead, I just feel almost as if my sister were there and I was leaning on her shoulder.

Adalaine was more than just my sister, she was also my savior. Our parents had always been quite a bit harsher on me, and she, being the one who was allowed to read, also had a strong sense at arguing. Our mother always described us as the lion and the lamb. She used to tell us, "A lamb always follows close to it's protector, but even the lamb can have a mighty roar." However kind and true Adalaine was, she was utterly irritating for one reason: Addy, sister dear, was the favorite child. I know everyone says that their sibling is the favorite, but it even seemed that Saint Nick liked her better. She asked and received everything no questions asked, from candy to shoes and shoes to clothes and clothes to friends. I always got her leftovers, and though she was definitely a high-quality and highly entitled brat, I rarely got things that were my own. When I was little, she tied my hair in Mother's weaver and she had to cut my hair. My 9 nine year old self became upset that my sister and her friends could make fun of me for having short hair. But I would rather have my sister's place in death because I lost the one person who made my life worth living, and finding purpose for myself is about as easy as escaping this miserable town. I joked with her once that if she ever left, I'd never leave her; now that she is gone it is so tempting to follow, but of all the acts one could commit, it was extremely shameful to even speak about suicide. Just like with suicide, talking about pain and grief was a woman's chore, even though after as long as I have been trying to grieve, many of the whispers in the town have suggested that I was no longer mourning, but mentally ill. Nevertheless, I love my sister despite the pain her death has brought, though I can't blame her for death's taste in beautiful people.

"Excuse me, Miss Graveyard Girl, might I join you?" I turned my attention from the noon sky to the gate where the town's tailor awaited my reply. I welcomed him, against my better judgement, and he sat respectively at the edge of the grave with his basket. "Adalaine, Lady to Lord Paul. I created her wedding dress sometime ago. She gave me a sketch from her childhood to base my work on, and I have never made a customer more pleased. Her end was quite a pity, she was apart of the few better people of Ludovica. What do you think, Graveyard Girl?"

This man captivated my curious mind with the way his words flowed like the cunning eagle as it flies against the breeze. The tailor is a clean shaven, short haired, well-dressed individual whose style is outlandish compared to the modest slouch-wear of the common man. Looks aside, there was almost nothing to indicate the building fear presently creeping up my spine, or the instant mental connection.

"I am her sister, Gwyneira, and everything she is not. Her death has become the start of the end of my life. Is there a greater pain than this, tailor?" He offered me a glass of lemonade from a keg in his basket then he continued to bring out cases of food from it. "Tailor is not my true name, but seeing how I was rude and forgot to introduce myself, I can understand the confusion. My true identity lies in the name I hold, which is Cassian Ambrose. I'd tell you what it means, but it's boring stuff. I see you come here everyday around this time, and I wanted to know why you walk two miles from the city to the graveyard- hence the nickname that I gave you (Graveyard Girl). Now I know you as Gwyneira Highton and I know that you come here to see your sister." I sipped my drink and replied, "My question was avoided, Mr. Ambrose. I do not mind the in-formalities or nicknames as much as I mind waiting for answers. So I pray thee, is there a pain greater than this?" Cassian closed his basket and placed a napkin on the dirt before adding a weight to the surface. "Dear Gwyneira, your pain radiates as much as your beauty, and believe me, I would answer your question, but each deals with their pain, and we cannot set a bar of limits or expectations for ourselves and for others. I have felt a sorrow that I could maybe say is similar to yours, but no one's hurt outranks another if everyone is hurt. Help and hope are great remedies if you let them." Cassian set another plate in front of me and encouraged my appetite- which was kind considering I knew I hadn't eaten at all today or since the attack. "But Mr. Ambrose, how could mortal man, such as yourself, help with something beyond man and comprehension?" "Graveyard Girl, you only become Gwyneira once more when you begin to move on and let your sister's soul rest sound with the knowledge that you can. Medicine and suppression will only drive you insane, but I can help you find ways to move on." "Like what?" Cassian seemed humored by my words and cocked his head to the side. "I know the expression which your face holds. I've been there before. I am here and listening- have you ever wanted someone to listen to you?" He put his head to work as he began to clean up the food. I handed him the dishes and glasses as I asked, "Who did you lose, gentle Ambrose?" Cassian tenderly smiled and loudly whispered, " I choose to pay attention to the things I've gained. Now before I leave, I beg you to listen to my modest proposal. I would appreciate if you came to work for me as an assistant librarian. We can discuss pay later when you decide you want the job, but this is just something to put you back on your feet if you want it. I just ask that you give me an answer after some thought. Thank you for your company during my lunch break, Miss Gwyneira- or Graveyard Girl- you decide." We shook hands and I watched him leave the gate of silence. For a moment, I almost didn't want him to go, but I couldn't decide how I felt. He was definitely intriguing, and unlike the other men whose dreams and intentions were far more personal when it came to me.