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He motioned with his hand toward a garden path, hoping to continue our walk. It wasn’t the company I had been expecting, but I didn’t mind. There existed two parts of me, an earnest part wanting desperately to have a positive relationship with my employer, and a perverse part that longed to be near him for the gratification of my wanton thoughts.
“Long ago?” he asked to continue the conversation.
“Not so long. It was more fancy, really. I enjoyed believing in something else, the romance of powers we can’t see working for and against us. It’s the potential of something else other than this hard world.”
“For such a sweet view, I wouldn’t have expected you to be so drawn to monsters.”
He motioned to the book I still had clasped to me. I held it up.
“It’s my challenge to the fear inside me,” I admitted.
“You’re quite daring,” he said in such an admiring way that I was flattered.
“Do your studies ever frighten you?” I asked.
I wanted a sense of camaraderie, to believe this wasn’t my solitary experience.
He considered the question with seriousness, then answered somberly, “Sometimes, at night, I will let fantasy get the best of me. Especially in the winters, when everything here is bleak, and there are only my thoughts and the cruel dark.”
We slowed, approaching an arbor leading into the dormant rose gardens where the fairy-tale tower was in clear view.
“During the worst of it, it feels I’ll never see the light again, yet…” He reached out, his sudden proximity jarring, and I wildly believed he meant to caress me. Despite my craving for it, I shifted slightly away, only to find he was reaching past me to pluck a small pink bloom from its place in the tangled vines overhead. “It comes.”
Charmed, I took the tiny flower as he offered it to me.
“It must be beautiful here during the warm months.”
“Most beautiful.”
He was looking at me, and I had nothing to do but look back. We smiled at the same time, an unexpected peace settling between us.
“Actually, I was searching you out. Not just to apologize but to ask a favor of you.”
“Oh?” I tried not to be wary.
“It’s always been a tradition at Willowfield at the sign of the first bloom, we host a dinner party to wake up the house in a sense. They stopped after…” He hesitated here, then course-corrected. “After we lost so many staff, and it might be time. Nothing extravagant. It would certainly help me, and perhaps you get out of the ghastly grasp this place sometimes has.”
I thought the idea was lovely and expected him to ask me to help Ms. Dillard prepare.
“I’d be honored if you’d come as my guest,” he said instead, “as I confess several of my colleagues and friends are interested in the scholar I’ve hired to help with my work.”
Pleasure rippled along my shoulders, and I gave a small laugh to hide it.
“Hardly a scholar,” I amended.
“I disagree.”
We walked companionably a ways longer, and he pointed out various plants and when they would flower, assuring me Willowfield would be unrecognizable soon. He appeared so lighthearted, so in love with the potential of this sad place. When we’d made an entire loop of the house, he wished me a good afternoon, told me Ms. Dillard would be in charge of my dress for the party, and not to worry.
Then, at last: “I have business in town this evening, but I will see you in the morning, and we’ll set back to work on the mess I’ve made.”
Feeling friendly, I assured him, “I’m sure we can make it right.”
“I very much look forward to trying.”
He smiled and left me at the door to walk to the garage on the east lawn, near the orchards.
I watched him go, and along with the desires of my body, I felt my heart squeeze in a way that discomforted me.
