Saturday's Lady

Sixteen

They had been playing chess for close to three hours, game after game. Emma had won twice and lost four times, and now on game number seven, she was determined to win. It was a shame that she kept getting distracted.

The problem was, she realised, that Mr. Liniski was asking far too many personal questions, and she didn't know how Emma Remigrant would answer them. She tried to be as vague as she could, very aware that Mrs. Remigrant was calmly knitting right behind Mr. Liniski, occasionally staring at Emma with those piercing eyes.

He moved a pawn forward. "So tell me, Miss Remigrant, what sort of weather do you like?"

She giggled and moved out her knight. "You ask strange questions. Most people just ask my favorite colour."

"I think there's a lot that can be told from someone's favorite weather, and being asked an unusual question means they actually have to think about their answers more." He looked at her with a lopsided smile, one lock of his deep brown hair falling over his forehead. "If I were to ask your favorite colour you would have a practised answer. So what is your favorite weather?"

She thought for a moment. "I like when the sky is bright, but rain is coming down hard."

Mr. Liniski moved his pawn again. "That's a good one."

"What's your favorite weather?"

He answered immediately. "When I'm in the mountains I love it to be snowing, just a little."

"And when you're here in Denver?"

"Sun. Cities are less lovely in the mud, but mountains are nothing without it."

Emma moved a pawn of her own. "You had a practised answer."

"I always have an answer to my own questions," he said a little bashfully. "I spend too much time thinking of odd questions to not wonder about my own response."

"I have a question for you, then," she said cheerily. "What language would you learn, if you had the chance?"

His face screwed up in concentration, and Emma laughed. It seemed so theatrical, and yet she didn't mind. "There are quite a lot of miners I know from Italy and I love to hear them speak. Perhaps I'd learn Italian."

"Then it would be much easier to understand the opera."

He grinned at her. "It would. Have you ever been to the opera?"

She nodded. "Once. It was lovely, but I wish I could have understood all the words. The summary that they give you really can't convey the depth of the songs, can it?"

He moved his rook directly in the path of her pawn. "What language would you learn, Miss Remigrant?"

"I don't know. Really!" she protested. "Some days I think it'd be nice to learn French or German like many educated ladies do, but other days I want to learn something wild, like Russian or- or Japanese." She took his rook and looked up at him expectantly. "But I think, most of the time, I would just like to learn the language of people-- how they really think, so I can understand them and not just their words."

It was clear he had not noticed the danger he had put his rook in and he stared a little stunned at the lost piece. "That's a very profound answer," he said softly, moving out the queen. "I think I would like to learn that language too."

When the time came for him to leave-- he'd lost the last game to Emma, but only barely-- Mr. Liniski turned to Mrs. Remigrant.

"I had a wonderful afternoon," he said to her, his hat in his hand.

"I hope you'll come again," replied the lady eagerly. "You're not going to be going up the mountain until spring, I assume?"

He laughed. "No, I'll be here through the winter."He turned to Emma. "You play very well."