Symphony of Lilacs

18. Ruptured Lines

The night seems far more silent than what I'm used to.
Only a few pedestrians trudge on the cobblestone streets.

“Papa!”
A door opens and a few children fly out of it as soon as their father knocks.
The children almost trample the man down, but he laughs and balances himself against the doorway.

I keep walking down the streets.

Sister Greta was nursing a critical patient and wouldn't leave her side.
I stayed behind a bit longer to help her and now the stars are talking to me.

“Just promise me that you shall take care of both your siblings, please.”

“Please continue reading, Oliver.”

“How can ye write and hear me reading at the same time?”

“I'm a magician, I suppose.”

A woman and a boy sit under a lamp post, her hands mercilessly writing on a few pieces of parchment.
A woman in a peacock blue cloak and a boy in a patched suit.

Mathilda and Oliver Trevor...

I take a few more steps ahead till I'm next to them, arms pressing into my back much harder than they should.

Mathilda looks up at the sudden withdrawal of sound and even her brown eyes widen at me. But then her shoulders relax.
“I thought I really wouldn't be surprised the next time we meet like this.”

I shrug, looking at Oliver stumbling upward with a hand held out to me.
“Evening, sir!”

Smiling, I take his hand and shake it.
“What are you two doing here, if I may ask?”

Mathilda pulls back the papers into her basket, mouth opening and then Oliver starts for me.
“Miss Tilly came home after sunset. And we didn't have much oil left in the lamps for my reading lessons.”

My shoulders sag a bit, as I look in between the two.
“What about your school?”

Oliver chuckles.
“My mission'ry has schoolmistresses too old to teach and they mostly sleep in class.”

“I am so glad you finally used my, now.” Mathilda smiles at the boy and I give her my hand.
She glances at it, before accepting.

Oliver rolls his eyes.
“I can’t change my accent.”

“I’m asking you to use proper grammar, not change a part of yourself.” Mathilda shakes her head, the crocheted bag in her free hand.
“And I'm still sorry for coming late today. I had extra work in the shop.”

Oliver shrugs.
“I know you’ve lots of load like Jacob. Especially after the treatment for Mrs Penrose--” He slaps his mouth shut with both hands, the book dropping from his grasp.

Then it all clicks.

“That is the best compliment you can get after working on a Sunday.”

So that's how they were able to come to the hospital…

Mathilda only shakes her head slightly and picks up the book for Oliver.

When she reaches to wipe it, that's when we both notice our hands are still intertwined.

My ears redden and so do her cheeks, as we pull away.

Mathilda wipes the book by a clean cloth from her bag.

Oliver makes no comment, as he looks anywhere but us.
He takes the book from Mathilda's hands and turns on his heels.
“I'm going. You two can catch up.”
With his back at us, he walks a short distance away, though still within our sight.