65. Sarah #2
“Do you remember how she encouraged opening up to each other and sharing hopes and dreams?”
Viola bobbed her head. Was she agreeing?
“How she described allowing yourself to be vulnerable and letting the other person share your struggles?” Viola stared straight ahead. “And we said that sounded like being a good friend.” There was a flicker, a tiny shift in her posture, when I said friend.
I repeated the statement. “Remember? Jacob is your friend.”
Viola’s brow creased. “My friend? Yes.”
“Yes,” I said, resting my hand on her shoulder. “And you should let him in. Let him help you through this.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “He’s my friend.”
Was I getting through? “Viola, you must get off that train and tell him what’s on your mind and in your heart.”
Her eyes touched mine, focused on me. “Everything?”
I gently clasped her upper arms. “Mrs. Newman said you need to let him see everything. Every part of who you are, even the parts you don’t like about yourself.”
“Share everything,” Viola said, her grip tightening on my arms.
“And you must never forget.” Please don’t shut down now. “Mrs. Newman recommended lots of kissing.”
And then, she was there with me. Her green eyes, so like George’s, widened and glowed with life and energy brighter than the fall colors around us, as if someone had thrown open a window inside her.
Color rushed into her face. “That’s right.
Lots of kissing!” She smiled and huffed out a small chuckle.
For a heartbeat, she was wholly herself again. I grinned back at her. I could have danced. Slowly, the brightness dimmed. She faded back into herself, but not so deep, not so far away as she had been. For the first time in a month, hope expanded my chest and lightened my step.
I needed to tell George.
Patience is not one of my strengths. I read, sang, and paced, then paced while reading and singing, but nothing made the waiting any easier. When would George come upstairs so I could tell him about Viola?
I glared at his window, but it stayed dark. Night had arrived ages ago. Was he lounging around downstairs or not even at home? How could he stay out late when I needed to talk? Inconsiderate man.
I tapped my forehead on the cool glass. Come. Home. Now. I blinked. A light glowed in the window across from mine, and then George’s form appeared outlined against the brightness. I waved and pointed toward the backyard, then grabbed my wool blanket and bounded outside.
I beat him into the cool evening air and pushed through the shrubbery to his backyard. I rushed forward and caught George’s forearm as he hopped off his back steps. “Viola was better today!”
“How?”
“The improvement was temporary. But you have to convince your father. She needs to go to Minnesota.”
“Oh, Sarah. Finally! Tell me everything.”
We wandered back toward his patio and the wisteria arbor. A single chaise lounge chair remained on the gravel patio, but that didn’t stop George from plopping down and stretching out his legs.
“Such a gentleman. Taking the only seat.”
“Plenty of room. See? I scooted all the way over.” He patted the seat beside him and held his arm out to me. “I won’t bite.”
I snorted. “Exactly what the big bad wolf would say.” Sieve, don’t fail me now. I snuggled beside him and pulled my knees under my blanket.
He squeezed my shoulders. “I am all ears.”
I shared every detail about my walk with Viola, including Mrs. Newman’s wisdom regarding love.
“Great job, Goldie.” His low chuckle rumbled through us both. “Who would have thought the key would be to talk to her about kissing of all things. Kissing!” He shook his head, and I caught a whiff of sandalwood.
Such a soothing, dangerous scent.
“I’ll convince Father, take her to Minnesota, and it will be exactly what she needs to shake this off.”
I asked, “What if Jacob is still mad?”
“He loves her, I’m sure of it. Which means he’ll help her even if he’s furious.”
“I hope so.” I glanced up at him. “At least you’ll be there to make sure.”
“I don’t think he will take any convincing.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. No shooting stars tonight. Wouldn’t trust myself with wishes while sitting here so cozy…
George asked, “You two asked Mrs. Newman about love?”
“For Viola. When she first returned from Minnesota, she struggled to figure out if she loved Jacob.”
“And Mrs. Newman told you the only difference between friendship and love is that love has kissing?”
“Hmm. Yes. But it was more the feeling that inspires the kissing, not just the act… She told us about meeting her husband, and it was so romantic. Even Viola thought so.”
“Hard to define love with words, I guess.”
“Will you stay with her the whole two weeks?” I hated to admit even to myself how much I would miss him. We’re good friends. That’s all. No kissing.
“I’ll stay long enough to make sure all will be well, but then I need to get back here. I’m almost ready to make my presentation to Father.”
“He’s going to love it.”
George sighed. “Wish I had your confidence.”
He played absently with my hair. “I should be gone less than a week.”
I was relieved at the news and leaned my head on his shoulder.
George said, “Are you going to the Christies’ masked costume ball? It’s all anyone is talking about around town.”
“Mother is pushing for it, but I’m strongly considering a headache that night.” I wasn’t ready to face a ball without Viola.
“I know Viola won’t be back for the ball, but I will.
Come with me. I’m more fun than a headache.
Are you home tomorrow? I hope to stop by in the afternoon.
I have a few things I want to show you. I’ll personally deliver Jacob’s invitation in Minnesota.
Of course he’ll RSVP yes. We can work on the seating chart when I get back.
Of course, Jacob and Viola will be seated with us. ”
I flinched—a tiny, involuntary jerk—and pulled away slightly, not sure what to say. What did he mean, seated with us?
George noticed the tension in my shoulders. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”
I puffed out my cheeks and blew out the air. It seemed to work for George. I said, “It’s more what you didn’t say.” I pulled the blanket tight about my shoulders. “I thought you needed me to help you prepare. You didn’t say anything… You didn’t ask me to go to the actual banquet.”
“Damnation. Uh, I mean, Pemberley.” George slapped a hand to his forehead. “I am such an idiot.”
I said, “Stop. You’ll injure your dog brain.”
“Sarah.” He mumbled my name into his chest. “I messed up.”
“It’s all right. I’m not trying to pressure you. I never expected you would want to take me. I’ve enjoyed helping. You can tell me how everything went afterward.”
“No. Hush. Stop talking.” He pushed himself up, turned, and offered me a hand, which he used to pull me up from the chaise. Instead of dropping my hand, he clasped it and dragged me through a narrow gap in the back hedge, toward my door.
He met my gaze at the base of the steps and said, “Until tomorrow. More to come. Be patient with me, please.”
His words flew straight through my defenses and swirled around in my chest.
He squeezed my hand, then he hurried back to his door.
I climbed the stairs to bed.
What just happened?