She looked away and reached for her water.
Her non-answer was enough to confirm for him. “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”
She immediately shook her head.
“I won’t force you, not in this or anything, but I hope one day you trust me enough to tell me.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
He wanted to reach for her, to cup her cheek or at least hold her hand, but he wasn’t sure if it would be welcome. “Genevieve, I?—”
“Genevieve! Diana! Oh where are those girls?” Her mother’s voice echoed through the house, and the sound of her heels on the stairs made Genevieve gasp.
“You have to get out of here!” she whispered and started pushing him off the bed. She was stronger than he realized and he lost his balance and fell to the floor with an “oof!”.
“What was that?” her mother yelled.
“Nothing, mother!” Genevieve yelled back, her voice hoarse. “I just tripped and fell. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Gabriel smiled at her flushed, worried face.
“Get out,” she mouthed and pointed at the open window.
He shook his head, and whispered back, “We’re not finished talking, my dear Genevieve. I’ll wait until your mother goes to bed and sneak out then.”
Her mother’s voice was getting closer and Genevieve was getting more frantic. “Under the bed,” she mouthed and then pointed.
It would be a tight fit, but he could probably do it. “Closet?” he suggested instead.
“No time,” she said as she pushed him.
He sighed but flipped onto his front and slid underneath, settling in just as the bedroom door opened and he heard her mother’s shrill voice.
“Are you even trying to get well? You’re still very sick and the Trumley’s annual tea party is tomorrow. Why are you so out of breath?”
“Mother, I?—”
“No, I don’t care to listen. You never think of anyone but yourself. You’ll go to the party tomorrow and that’s that.”
“Mother, if you’ll let me talk, I?—”
Gabriel jerked as he heard what he thought was a slap. Had she really slapped her sick daughter?
“You’ll not talk back to me! You’re to be ready for the tea party promptly at four tomorrow. I’ll need to attend with you to keep you in line. You’re such a disgrace to this family.” She tsked and then slammed the door as she left.
He waited a beat in case the mother came back, then slid out. Genevieve was standing still near the door, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but wasn’t sure if she’d welcome it.
He reached for her anyway, letting the tips of his fingers graze her shoulder before she jerked and stepped away. “Genevieve…”
She moved towards her small walk-in closet and closed the door, leaving him standing alone in her bedroom.
He sighed and wiped a hand over his face, then decided to wait until she came out on her own. He’d given the room a look over while she’d slept, but now, after a revealing conversation and insight into her family life, he gave it another glance.
Events she was forced to go to—had she ever chosen to go to them willingly?
Pink on the wall and bedding she hadn’t chosen.
Some clothes strewn around the room, while others were hung with care on a rack—which had she chosen, and which had been chosen for her? He’d loved her in everything he’d seen her in, but had she loved the clothes on her body too?
