It felt like the perfect time to say it. The back of his forefinger perked up her chin and with his free hand he brushed her curls behind her ear. He pulled her to him and whispered in all honesty, "Claire, I love you."
He was taken aback by her answer.
"Why?"
Before he could begin to answer, she took his arms and removed himself from her. There wasn't anger in her eyes, or sign of a twitching brow. Her face was almost a blank; the only smudge of cross emotion was her lips twisted.
"It's late," she said, excusing herself as she picked up her purse and portfolio. She hardly noticed her classwork flitter away. On her way out one of the papers was stuck outside the closed door.
Rather than gape- he had done plenty of that already- Hershel took to picking up the scattered papers. He puzzled over why she had abruptly left, checking off his actions bit by bit, looking for any obscene thing he may have done.
When it came down to it, he could only surmise it was that he had failed to back up his confession. He wondered if Claire had dated men who hurt her before, that had used those words emptily.
It was clear to him that Hershel couldn't just say he loved her. He would have to prove it. He set the stack of papers on his desk and took a notepad from the drawer along with a pencil.
"Why do I love her?" he asked himself, tapping the pad with the eraser end of the pencil.
He closed his eyes, imagining the why's. He thought about the first day they met at the university. He had tripped over a half buried rock and in the process twisted his ankle. Claire had noticed him hobbling to the nurse's office, and without asking, just knowing, took some of his weight over her shoulder and helped him walk. She wasn't exactly a strong woman; their trek to the office was slow. The four times they took a break wasn't for Hershel to rest but for her to.
"You don't have to. This isn't something a woman should do, " he had tried to reason with her.
"Oh hush," she had retorted.
X
He nodded to himself as he wrote the first two sentiments: Kind. Determined.
He recalled the first day she came to his house. He had forgotten to clean the parlor room of the evidence and rushed towards her as she picked up a magazine and raised a brow.
"It's not what you think!"
She turned towards him. "Hershel, I never knew you were this type of man."
He hung his head; he knew it was over. He had heard women didn't like those sort of things.
"Why didn't you tell me you liked puzzles?" she asked incredulously, paging through Puzzles BiMonthly.
"I... I thought you would think I was-"
"Nonsense. I prefer a man with brains- one who can understand me." She smiled and sat on the couch, then patted the seat next to her.
X
Smart. Likes Puzzles.
He smiled, mind wandering. Miles of memories piled on top of one another, each marking the qualities he adored in her. He added that he thought her beautiful at the end, hoping she wouldn't think him to be shallow for mentioning it, and with that he was lost for words.
He looked up at the clock and sighed. Seeing the late hour made his fatigue hit him hard. He folded the list three times, with precise creases, before he went to bed.
X
"Claire, here." He slid the envelope across the table. He was thankful she hadn't canceled their afternoon tea together.
Her eyebrows raised as she sipped her tea. The cup clinked on the china as she set it her drink down. With her fingernail, she raised the edge of the envelope and picked it up between thumb and index finger. Carefully she opened it, frowning when she ripped the corners of the envelope. Drawing the paper out, she stared, looked at Hershel, then went back to the paper.
"What is this?"
"A list of reasons why I love you," he answered as confidently as he could.
As soon as he said that, she tore the list in two. His composure ripped just as the list had and his heart sunk along with it to the floor.
"Claire...?"
"Hershel, love isn't a list." And she kissed him.