“Yes mother, I'm fine. For the millionth time, I think I can manage to put the tarts in the oven without falling apart.”
Rosabella sighed at her daughter's tone, but backed away from the oven. “I know, and there's no cause to snap at me. You've been like a wounded bear since you came back and I grow weary of it. If only you'd come to the dinner with us ...”
“If only doesn't change anything mother. What happened did, and I'm alive – thankfully. Please, don't treat me like an invalid though. I can't stand it!” The pie tin clattered against the rack as Rose set it down. “That's the last of them. I'm going for a walk.”
“But it's dusk child and ...” Rosabella frowned as Rose turned and gave her a look. “Fine. Have it your way then. Go take your walk.” She clenched her fists into her apron, and muttered under her breath, 'But be careful.'
Rose grabbed a cloak off the peg before heading outside, her jaw tight and sore. For the past several days, her mother had hovered over her, treating her like glass. Her father too, for that matter, had watched her like a hawk, though the small group of thieves were safely behind bars. The whole village, it seemed, had been up to their doorstep, looking for information and excitedly gossiping about how Maliennde had been involved in such a group, some almost gleefully. It'd gotten to the point where Rose wanted to cover her ears and scream, but she remained politely calm and brushed off most of the comments and prying questions with short answers.
Even Talleine had been by, her brown eyes filled with angst at the part her daughter had played in the thefts. “If I'd even had a thought it were her ...” Talleine had said, but Rose had hugged her. “It wasn't your doing,” she'd told the older woman.
Rose played everything back in her mind as she wandered aimlessly down the street, the silence of evening broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl or cricket's chirp. Alone with her thoughts, she lost the need to remain stoic and began crying. Slowly at first but, as days of pent up fear and frustration were set free, harder until she could no longer see where she was going. She stopped finally and, leaning against an old gnarled tree, buried her head in her arms.
“Miss Rose ...”
Rose jumped at the gentle touch on her shoulder and hurriedly brushed at her face. “Good eve … evening Mr. Gillis,” she stuttered and looked down at the ground.
“Hey,” Gillis said, taking Rose by the shoulders and turning her to face him. She glanced up before returning her gaze to the ground, scuffling her shoe against the ground.
“I'm fine,” she started, through her tears.
Gillis tucked his thumb beneath Rose's chin and lifted her face so he could see it. “From the looks of it,” he said, brushing away the fresh tears from her reddened cheeks, “You're anything but fine.”
Rose clenched her teeth through her tears and felt his finger pause. “You as well? Is … everyone going to treat me like I'm weak?”
“Hardly weak, Rose. Strong. Stronger than many would be. But even the strong are allowed to cry.” Gillis replied quietly.
“Thank you ... that. And I'd like... like to do it … alone if you don't mind,” Rose nodded and stepped away.
“Like hell,” Gillis muttered, and pulled Rose to him, enveloping her in his arms even as she let out a stifled cry of protest.
“Really! I'd much … rather … be … be ...” Rose tried to step back, pushing against him, but Gillis remained firm against her movement. “I'd … rather … be … please go ...” Her fist bounced off his shoulder and she buried her face in his chest, feeling his arms tighten around her as she momentarily gave in.
“Not going anywhere, and that's truth,” he whispered as he rested his chin on top of her head and let her cry.
The comment struck Rose odd, and oddly comforting, but she pushed the thought aside as she struggled to compose herself. Finally, her sobs subsided and, sniffling, she wiped her face against his shirt and looked up at him. “I … thank you.” she said, and offered him a brief smile.
Gillis wipes her eyes, giving her a half grin. “My pleasure,” he says, and then looks up at the sky. “It's getting dark, I should walk …” He pauses for a moment, as though debating, before offering her his arm. “Would you care for me to walk you home, Rose?”
Rose opened her mouth in surprise, and then nodded. “I … I think that would be fine,” she said finally and placed her hand on the offered arm as they turned towards her house.
“Good,” he said, then cleared his throat. “If you've time tomorrow, I'd like you to come see the progress on the house.”
“I would … it would be a pleasure,” Rose replied, and stepped through the gate to her yard as he held it open for her.
“Then I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. I'll meet you at the market near close.”
“Alright, and good night Mr. Gillis.” She nodded to him and turned to head inside.
“Good night, Miss Rose ...” Gillis replied, watching until she entered her house, before quietly shutting the gate and heading back towards the mill-house.
