The Promise

His father felt ridiculous asking. His father, a sturdy man who was never unsure, had carefully considered his words and concluded that there was nothing to be said to ease the conversation. It was his fault really. He allowed himself to be caught, more than once, staring at the object that now held both of their attention. The small box that sat peacefully on the bookshelf in the study of his family home. It was a shade of mahogany and engraved in gold acanthus scrolls. Ruby and sapphire elephants marched obediently in a line, holding onto one another's tails as lovers walking along a beach. The clasps of the golden lock were rusted at the edges from age. This box was the only item to follow him from the nursery.

Throughout the years, it had been treated with care. It was the recipient of his consideration and the audience to his otherwise reclusive life. He couldn't provide his father with an explanation that he felt was worthy of a Duke—as to why he kept such a childish thing after all of these years. But as he was fond of his father, Justin decided he would give it a go.

"Only when I need motivation," he said softly, in regards to when he looked at it.

"Motivation?"

"I made many promises when I was a child. They were silly but..."

To his benefit, his father smiled with understanding. Not eager and concerned as his mother's would have been, but warm and polished. His father stood closer to the box, as if he were a visitor at a museum and the wood was in possession of a priceless heirloom. It was tucked between books that were tucked between pillars that bordered the mantelpiece of the winter fire. Proving his empathy, his father refrained from touching it.

"Children have a way about them that makes everything simple," the Duke spoke in a soft tone. "The other day, I told your brother that he would one day have feelings for girls."

Justin smirked. His little brother was the pride of his father's potency. His father had walked a little taller since.

"What did Ethan say?"

"He told me he already has feelings for girls. He said he doesn't like them."

Justin chuckled, remembering what it was like to be free of adult impulses and worry. He also remembered that girls tended to frighten him as much as women. They were smaller versions of a mother who lectured or a nanny who relayed every misdeed. But there was always one, his father had warned, that would kindle the fire in a man's soul.

Justin was eleven.

Picturing her now, he could not recall the age of the woman who visited his home. Perhaps, she was sixteen. Eighteen. Twenty. Back then, the primary differentiator between adolescent and adult was one or the other being simply taller. She was taller. Therefore, she was a grown up.

His parents were hosting a wedding party for the benefit of an aunt, which meant his house would be full of cousins, strangers and strange food. Their country home, a popular destination for extravagant parties and family gatherings, boasted over thirty rooms, was nestled between rolling hills and had access to a private beach. In the winter, as it was then, as it was now, it was exquisitely picturesque. Even the chapel, with its overbearing double-hung windows, allowed the angels and God to have a pleasant view of the ceremony without obstruction. His aunt would wear fur. Everyone would receive hot chocolate.

Justin and his cousins would bypass the waves of perfume and the sea of gathered skirts to escape to the conservatory. It was one of Justin's favorite places whenever they came to the country house. It had a wraparound staircase that spiraled to the fourth floor. Once there, one could look down into the assortment of palms and pressed butterflies, or, look up into the stars using a telescope his father had restored when he inherited the home many years ago. The telescope was even on a track, so Justin could push or pull it around the circumference of the dome.