She had sketched her thoughts over the last few hours. A rose, held gently in large, scarred hands. Fresh-turned earth and figures in morning. A vengeful angel. Plants growing, searching for light. Dark woods, with snaking paths and people walking towards each other.
She shook herself back to the present as she made her way to the door. She had no idea what time it was, but suspected from the darkness around her it must be late.Phoebe probably had another bad dream.Now that she knew more of the girl’s past, she understood what likely kept her up at night.
“Come on, let us get you a – oh.” The words died on Harriet’s lips as she found herself looking not at Phoebe but Theodore.
“I take it you were expecting someone else?” Theodore had his hands clasped behind his back.
“I thought you might be Phoebe.” Harriet tightened the dressing gown around her, deeply thankful that she had put the thing on. “She has bad dreams sometimes and… um… yes…”
She trailed off, shivering slightly at the rush of cold air from the corridor. Theodore twitched and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw his right hand move towards her.
“You are cold.” He nodded to the gooseflesh on her arms.
“A little.” Harriet gestured to the room behind her. “Would you like to come in? We could continue this conversation in the warmth.”
Theodore hesitated and then nodded. Harriet beckoned for Theodore to follow her and listened as he closed the door behind them. She felt her skin prickle as she moved towards the fire.
“I was not expecting visitors, and the tea is rather cold or I would offer you something to drink. I think there are a few biscuits left. You are welcome to one. I suppose I ought to keep something for light entertaining in here, but we do not really have guests and well… Um… Yes…” Harriet fidgeted from foot to foot as Theodore made his slow way towards the fire.
She saw him look at the drawings and cursed inwardly, darting forward so suddenly her dressing gown nearly came undone. Thankfully, it appeared that Theodore had been too distracted by the drawings.
“I see my story stayed with you. ” He gestured to them as Harriet moved to tidy them into her journal.
There was no reproach or anger in his voice, it was softer, sadder and she drew towards him, as though pulled by an invisible rope. Theodore touched the edges of the rose, his fingers shifting the pictures. He stopped when he found an oak tree, alone and on a hill, a small figure curled against its trunk.
“Is this you?” He pointed at the tree. “It is often the way you curl around Phoebe when you are worried for her, and the way the leaves are moving in the breeze reminds me of your eyes. You are strong too, like an oak.”
“It is you.” Harriet’s voice was soft; Theodore’s eyes widened and he turned to her, confusion and surprise so clear on his face she nearly laughed. “You protect Phoebe, you are steady and strong. Rigid in someways, but not unyielding.”
“Kind words.” Theodore swallowed.
There was a moment of silence and then she gestured to the chaise longue and the armchairs. “Please, have a seat.”
“I would rather stand, if that is acceptable to you.” Theodore’s hands were clasped behind his back once more. “Though you need not remain on your feet.”
“Thank you.” Harriet sat on the chaise longue, crossing and uncrossing her legs, eventually placing a pillow on her lap and fiddling with the tassels.
Theodore was looking at the fire, tugging the collar of his shirt. There were several beats of silence.
“What are you doing here?” The question came out more clumsily than she had meant, and for a moment, she worried that Theodore would take offence.
He shifted his weight and looked at her, his expression serious. “I wanted to thank you.”
Harriet blinked. “What?”
“For everything you have done with Phoebe.” He gestured to the wall that separated her chambers from Phoebe’s. “When I asked you to join us here, I had hoped your presence would make a difference in her life. But I had not anticipated just how much of an impact you would have on her life.”
He was pacing now, his fingers tapping rapidly against his thigh. With a start, Harriet realized he was nervous. She touched a hand to her chest, and felt an odd sense of endearment as she followed his movement across her room.
“You do not need to thank me, I did not want to disappoint you.”
“I do not think you could.” His admission stopped him in his tracks and stole Harriet’s breath away. “At every opportunity, you exceed my expectations. You have brought this place back to life, and you… You have given my niece back her life.”
Harriet wondered what had prompted this and only realized she had spoken aloud when Theodore flashed her a small, crooked grin that made her very grateful she was already sitting down. “I did as you suggested. I gave Phoebe the painting, and she hugged me. She hugged me, Harriet, and she thanked me.”
Theodore’s entire face lit up as he told her, and it was nothing short of transformational. His smile radiated through the room, warming it more than even the fiercest fire. Harriet was on her feet, a smile just as broad on her own face.
“Oh! Theodore, that is wonderful!” She took a step towards him.
