8. Chapter Eight #2
Dating had been on her mind after the war ended. Falling in love felt so unbelievably normal that she wanted nothing more. An exceedingly average life beside a lover, but that meant meeting someone who could accept her for who she was, and she could hardly accept herself. Why would anyone else?
“Miss Charmaine?” Josef stood in the doorway.
“Right, yes, I’m coming.” She gave William a stern look. “Don’t overwork yourself. If Nicholas is helping, let him and take a breather.”
William pursed his lips, but nodded.
She met Josef in the doorway before descending to the floor below. She didn’t know what to say. Certainly Josef had more questions about Nicholas, but she didn’t want to bring it up if he didn’t.
Outside, she looked skyward, berating herself for considering talking about the weather.
What a boring topic, so she chose silence.
From time to time, Josef’s shoulder knocked against hers when a carriage got too close to the sidewalk.
She stifled her smiles, worried what Josef may think if he understood how much she enjoyed his presence.
She wasn’t sure if Josef knew she was transgender and feared what he may think if he learned the truth.
She always had those fears. They were anchors tethering her to the bottom of a foreboding sea.
In the end, she was always too frightened to release herself from them.
A block away, Josef worked up the nerve to ask, “Do you know that fae personally, that Nicholas Darkmoon?”
“William knows him far better than me. We worked with him against Fearworn,” Charmaine replied.
“He is the one Dr. Vandervult made a deal with?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “No, uh, he received a gift from Nicholas’ father for saving his life against Fearworn. He never made an actual deal.”
Josef clicked his tongue. “Is that why he dislikes his arm so much, the silver one?”
“I suppose so. I don’t ask unless he brings it up, but I think he’s upset that he didn’t get a choice in the matter, and of course, everyone makes their assumptions.”
“Yeah.” Josef scratched at the back of his neck. No doubt he made those same assumptions. Charmaine understood that fear, especially after being around fae for years. Mortals were rightfully wary, but William did so much good for a community that still stiffened at the sight of him.
“This Nicholas. Is he trustworthy?” Josef asked.
“I don’t know. I believe he will do whatever William asks, but I don’t know if we can trust him.” She hated to say that. Considering the situation, it felt most appropriate.
William became Nicholas’ obsession. She saw firsthand what happened to shades after they’ve gone too far. She gripped her hands at her waist, knowing where the scars were beneath her gloves. She and William had that in common, hiding the past.
While Nicholas may not be Fearworn in the sense that he could start a cult to destroy the world, it didn’t mean he couldn’t cause extreme harm. Any who interfered in his relationship with William would face his wrath and none knew what Nicholas would consider interference.
“Well, I don’t enjoy having a fae around, but I can’t imagine the doc putting his patients in danger.” Josef shoved his hands in his pockets.
“We’re desperate, that’s for certain, but he wouldn’t. If Nicholas causes trouble, William will handle it.” And Charmaine, should she need to step in.
She hadn’t used the Sight routinely since the war ended.
She didn’t need it, and she didn’t want to use it.
Lighting candles or the stove when it wouldn’t light, that was the extent of her use, even when her body ached, wishing for more.
Even when she knew that, should the time arise when she needed power, it may not answer.
The Sight was like a muscle. Don’t use it, and it weakened, but fire reminded her of the battlefield.
Reminded her of blood and seared flesh. Sometimes she couldn’t handle looking at a candle, let alone carrying flames in her palms. The sight of blood made her gag or vision go blurry, which was why she rarely assisted at the clinic.
Not during any type of surgery. She would clean or help pass out medicine, but other than that, she couldn’t handle it.
She didn’t want to go back to a time she would rather forget.
The walk wasn’t far. The Gilded Lily wasn’t on the main street. They couldn’t afford that on the little savings her mother kept out of her father’s grasp during her military days. However, they did well, more than well, and perhaps, one day, they could open a second shop.
“Please don’t go out looking for anyone again, Josef. It could be dangerous,” she said at the doorway to the Gilded Lily.
Their sign had been a gift from the Vandervults.
William insisted most of all, saying she and Bessie worked so hard.
He wanted to give more, but she felt so hopeless after coming home.
She desired an achievement entirely her own, that didn’t come from bloodshed.
William agreed not to give her a handout, however, the least he could do was ensure they had a beautiful wooden sign that would catch one’s eye.
Josef raised his hands in surrender. “I won’t. I won’t.”
She smiled and brushed a curl behind her ear. “Thank you for walking me back.”
“No problem. I have somewhere to be this way,” he said while swaying on the heels of his feet.
“Really? What are your plans?”
He wore a toothy, childish smile. “I got myself a date.”
Charmaine bit her tongue.
Of course he did because Josef was charming. The nurses were ecstatic when William hired him. He treated everyone nicely and helped where he could without fuss. He made everyone feel safer and would often play card or board games to keep patients focused on anything other than their suffering.
“She’s smart, works at the library,” he said excitedly. “I’m not that good at reading, but I had to do some paperwork for my Ma and we went to the library. She was there and helped us get through it. I asked her to lunch, couldn’t believe she said yes!”
“She would have been foolish not to. I hope you have a good time,” she said, tasting disappointment, then berating herself for daring to feel it.
She never planned to ask Josef for tea, even if she imagined it through the day while sewing.
She would never admit to how often she pricked her fingers because she swooned at her own thoughts.
At least in her daydreams, she always had a happily ever after.
Reality wouldn’t be so kind and she wasn’t up to face such disappointment.
“Thank you.” Josef tipped his head. “Have a nice day, Miss Charmaine.”
“You too. Good luck on your date.” She hurried inside where she took to the sewing machine, the one place where she could dream to her heart’s content because that was all she believed she could do.