So, here I am, back from my holiday where I was more busy than a very busy bee. I had a fantastic time and more limited access to the PC than I have here, at home so thank you all, my lovelies, for your patience. Some of you have asked me if I have abandoned the story half way through. And I say: NO WAY! Sorry again if the long periods of time between the chapters misled you - it's just a matter of time, or should I say - its lack. I will NEVER abandon this story and until I say so, rest assured that it WILL go on, no matter how long it takes for another chapter to get uploaded.
And now, without any more boring rambling: ENJOY!
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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: NEW BEGINNINGS
7th of May 1923, Chicago
"Miss O'Brien, please don't do anything rash."
At the sound of a deep male voice from behind, Patty literally jumped. Utterly surprised, she drew a short, sharp breath and held it in. Annie had already bumped into her but that was right outside the house, this time she was completely oblivious to another person's presence. There wasn't even supposed to be anybody here! Feeling her heart racing madly, she turned around but saw no one. For a second, she thought that she was having hallucinations or hearing voices. But a second later, a slight movement in the near darkness gained her attention and she realized with a sigh of relief that the voice didn't come from inside her head. There was indeed someone there, only he wasn't standing on the path she had came down on. The owner of the voice stood under the trees, his figure nearly invisible, hidden in the deep shadows.
"Who is there?" she inquired with the slight trembling voice.
Silence.
The dark figure silently moved forward, stepped out of the shadows and in the misty, dim moonlight she saw the black hair and the outline of the man's face.
"Mr. Johnson!" she recognized him and involuntarily exhaled with relief. A second later an unexpected feeling arose in her. It was the annoyance of being disturbed again, the second time this evening. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"I'm sorry, Miss O'Brien, I didn't mean to startle you." he apologized calmly.
She waited for him to continue but when the silence between them stretched for another long moment and then another, she understood that he wasn't going to give an answer to her question. Usually, she had no problem with people being exaggeratedly secretive. She had no right to blame other people for a feature she was a living definition of. But now, being as touchy as she was, she found his non answer not simply evasive as it was and easy to cope with but exceptionally annoying. He almost scared the living daylights out of her – was it so weird that she was expecting an explanation?
She didn't say a thing though.
Raised to always be polite, she couldn't bring herself to telling him of her anger at being disturbed. Anyway, it occurred to her suddenly that he might have been here well before her so she couldn't exactly and bluntly accuse him of stalking her…
"It seems I interrupted you." she said exactly the opposite thing to what she wanted to say, watching him as he was approaching the place where she stood. "But if you mind my presence, don't worry, I will just carry on along the beach."
"Not at all, Miss O'Brien." he contradicted. "It was me who came here after you so if there is someone who could mind the other's presence it would be you."
Did she hear that right? Did he just say that he came after her? He really followed her? But why? Not that she really cared but something was telling her that it was perhaps better to know…
"May I ask why you did it?" she inquired.
"I saw you heading towards the beach," he replied, "and thought that you shouldn't be alone."
Why doesn't he mind his own business? Why does nobody mind his own business tonight? She thought, getting more and more annoyed with each passing second. Since he openly admitted to it, she had no more doubts that he indeed followed her and deliberately interrupted her very much desired, solitary moment. Any thoughts of calming down her anger had evaporated. She still couldn't bring herself to burst and shout out at him but she wasn't going to be very welcoming either. His aims didn't seem to be in any way romantic – she snorted inwardly at the ridiculousness of this thought – but he was here nonetheless and it was inconvenient enough on its own. She didn't want anybody's presence here right now.
"And why ever would you think that?" she demanded, this time more pressingly, letting some of her annoyance slip into her voice. "As far as I'm concerned, I am no child and it isn't against the law for a woman to be on her own"
For a moment, silence fell once again between them, as if the man was considering his next answer. "No," he replied finally, "but when a young lady leaves the party alone and goes for a lonely walk in the night time then there must be a reason behind it. Not necessarily a good reason." he punctuated.
She didn't see that coming. It was probably by a total coincidence but his words were alarmingly close to the truth and it was enough to make her defences to shoot sky high. Within the blink of a second she had made a decision of getting rid off this man from here and the sooner that happened, the better for her. His sudden and unexpected appearance distracted her from her thoughts but she could still feel the tears threatening to flow again and she feared she wouldn't be able to hold them back for much longer. She just couldn't afford to have anybody else witness her breakdown. Annie was more than enough.
"Again, Mr. Johnson, what made you come to such a ridiculous conclusion?" she asked dryly, praying for her voice not to tremble. Driven by the need to get away from him, in slow, almost leisure steps, she stepped up back onto the grass and passed him by a few feet, she headed up and towards the slightly rising lawn aimed directly for the line of the trees on the opposite side of the path. She stopped at the second tree, leant her back up against the trunk, gazed at the dark lake again and putting all the effort she could muster into it, she pulled a mused and dreamy smile. It had never occurred to her before that smiling could be so painful. "I found myself longing for some solitude." she added in a lighter but still cool tone. "I haven't been here for a long time and I simply wanted to say 'hello' to this place and enjoy the scenery."
She hoped that he would understand what she was hinting at. She hoped that he would believe her words even if they made her look like some silly girl walking with her head high in the clouds. It didn't really matter, for as long as he retreated back to the mansion and left her alone. But as the man didn't show any signs that he understood her silent hint, she decided to be more blunt about it. "I'm fine here, you can go back to the party." she said firmly, feeling right away that it sounded more like a command rather than a suggestion.
"I'm sorry, Miss O'Brien, but I will not leave without you." he declined her, patiently. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something… happened to you during my absence."
Patty barely stopped herself from gritting her teeth. What a stubborn man! She complained inwardly. She really didn't understand why he had insisted that it was so important to keep her company. Why doesn't he just leave me alone, I gave him enough polite and even not so polite hints that I don't want anybody's presence here! Even an unintelligent and not very smart person would have understood that and he isn't one of those stupid ones!
"Why would anything happen to me here?" she questioned. "It's one of the safest places I know of!"
"It is indeed safe in here." the man confirmed quietly. "It's..." he paused for a second as if hesitating, "you who shouldn't be left alone in such…" he paused again, "…a delicate situation."
"Delicate… what do you mean by 'delicate'...?" she asked and it was at this point that he approached her again. When he had first appeared, he came out of the dark shadows with the very dim moon from behind his back barely gave her enough light to recognize who he was. Now however, as he stood in front of her, on the ground free from fog and with this dim moonlight shining right on his features, she could see his face clearly. But foremost, she could see his eyes. And what she saw in them made her nearly panic. Don't be ridiculous, O'Brien! She thought to herself. Why would he feel sympathy?
He didn't reply but kept looking straight in her eyes with all dead seriousness. And for some strange reason, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. It was as if his dark eyes had locked with hers and had hypnotized her. But the longer she looked into them, the more convinced she was that what she saw was indeed sympathy.
It's impossible, no… She rebuffed herself again, why would he pity me..? No, I must be wrong... But why do his eyes look like he knew? No, no, he cannot know, it's impossible for him to know... Don't... She begged herself, feeling the temporary, fragile dam that she had raised to hide her grief, begun to crush under his serious, understanding gaze. Don't look at me this way... Please, don't look at me with those piercing eyes of yours because I can feel as if they were looking right into my soul… And I can't allow anybody to see me... Don't look that deep...
Somehow she managed to break their eye contact and looked away indifferently. "I'm afraid I don't understand you at all, Mr. Johnson." she stated emotionlessly, shrugging her shoulders. "You seem to suggest as if there was something wrong with me, as you can see, I'm in perfect physical and mental condition, I can assure you!"
She didn't look at him directly but in the corner of her eye she could still see his silhouette and she knew he hadn't moved an inch. "Forgive me, Miss O'Brien," his quiet but clear voice drifted into her ears. "I allowed myself to come after you because I was worried about you."
Surprised, she couldn't help but look at him again. Her eyebrows frowned in puzzlement.
The man calmly returned her inquiring gaze. "I was worried because I involuntarily overheard your conversation with Mrs. Cornwell." he carried on, replying to the very question she was just about to ask.
For a moment, she thought that she had misheard. She didn't; his words were still ringing in her ears. As the realization of what he had just said dawned on her, she could feel her heart jump to the top of her throat and start to slowly sink to her stomach. Then she felt the blood drain away from her face.
Slowly and piece by piece, her shattered emotions became too much to bear. The shock of what she had just heard made her start to shake and she had to fight for control over her body. But in the end, effort lost and all she could do to pretend to be steady was to breathe deeply. "You… heard us?" she repeated blankly. "But not everything?" she added with a tiny bit of hope in her heart.
That tiny bit of hope that she had hoped for vaporized like early mist in the warm morning sun as soon as the man nodded slightly.
"May I ask," she whispered with extreme difficulty, feeling both shocked and angry, "why you didn't make your presence known to us before we started the conversation?"
The man lowered his eyelids for a moment. "Forgive me for my inappropriate behaviour, Miss O'Brien," he replied even quieter than he had previously, "but it wouldn't have made much difference anyway. I knew about it long before."
"What?" she breathed out an entire lungful of air, even more shocked than before, if that was possible. Listening to her conversation with Annie in the garden was one thing but how could he know about it before? And it was then all her defences fell. "How? Am I so damn transparent?" she exclaimed angrily. The next thought that popped into her head took her breath away and her voice was again reduced to a whisper, "Does everyone know already?"
"No, Miss O'Brien," he replied in a calm, reassuring tone, "Only me. Nobody will ever find out from me; I just wanted to make sure that you were fine…"
The man came even closer to her, so close in fact that if she reached out with her hand now, she would be able to touch him... No, no, she didn't want to, she didn't want anybody's touch now!
"Fine? Fine? I am fine! It's not your problem anyway, Mr. Johnson, so just let me be! I don't need nosy people around, I just want to be alone for a moment!" she shouted again. He was so irritatingly calm and collected, just like she had always wanted to be but never achieved and for some reason this calmness of his pushed her even further towards the edge. She turned towards the tree, already feeling the long suppressed tears rolling down her face. "Please… Mr. Johnson…" she pleaded, her fist helplessly hitting against the hard, coarse bark, "just leave me… just go…"
"No, Miss O'Brien, I won't. I will be silent if you wish, but I won't leave." The voice coming from behind her, however quiet, sounded decisively. To the contrary of what she had thought, the hand he placed on her shoulder was surprisingly gentle.
The touch was too much for Patty to take and she finally burst into tears. Her sobs however, just like on the terrace earlier on, were quiet. I never cry loudly… A weird, out of place thought went through her mind, Only once, after Stear's funeral... and since then no one has heard me crying, except for him, now…
The man's hand on her shoulder tightened slightly its grip and despite her previous outburst, the instinct made her reach for it with her own. She felt so lonely! She really wanted to carry it by herself, keep it hidden from the entire world but since Annie had found out, that was no longer possible. Yet, even though Annie knew now, it didn't mean that she knew everything. She, Patty, couldn't allow that. At the end of the day, her friend was with child and worrying was the last thing she needed… and surely, if she knew the entire truth, she would be worried… It wasn't only about her broken heart or her inner loneliness. It was also about a very ugly feeling, a feeling Patty didn't like and wasn't proud of; a jealousy. A jealously towards Candy, for being so much more beautiful and attractive than herself, for having this unique ability of instantaneously getting into people's hearts, something she, Patty, was somewhat lacking, even after gaining so much attention from men, even if involuntarily… Yes, Annie surely would be worried if she knew all of it… That's why she had acted so bravely in front of her…
Vaguely, somewhere in the corner of her troubled mind, she realized that volume of her sobs had increased. It was still relatively quiet but it was nearly tearing her chest apart. Her cry was now almost shaking her entire body and Patty held on tighter to the tree trunk to steady herself. The tears seemed to be endless. She had already given up trying to stop them; every time she wiped them from her face, new ones filled her eyes, blurring her sight. She was crying for losing the wonderful man she never had and she had always known she was probably never meant to be with but she couldn't help but fall. She was crying for the wasted years she could have lived differently. Finally, she was crying out her anger on herself for being so shattered and unable to pull herself together.
At this very moment she didn't care anymore that this man who stood behind her had become a witness to her breakdown. He simply was, and his presence maybe didn't make her any less sad but, what was surprising, it was decreasing a little, the feeling of loneliness. His presence here, something she was cursing at only minutes before, now became a blessing. He simply was and she almost literally felt his inner strength. That was an unusual and weird feeling indeed; in the silence of this foggy evening, here, she was crying out her soul out but at the same time she felt the strength of another human being, standing next to her. And all that was thanks to a simple touch from a hand... He didn't embrace her, he just held his palm on her shoulder and she was tightly holding onto it as if it was the only bridge to normality. He didn't say a word, didn't ask anything, didn't demand anything; he just simply stood there, with a silent understanding and giving her the needed strength by this simple touch alone. And despite her deep, nearly choking sadness, she was thankful for that.
Such an intense cry is always tiring and what usually comes after this sort of tiredness is numbness. However, tears were still rolling down her cheeks, Patty felt her breath regaining its usual rhythm, her heart still heavy, yet, somehow lighter. She did feel a little numb and this was actually somehow… liberating. At least for now.
She felt as the man's hand loosening its grip and finally, let go of her shoulder. And at the loss of the hand, her mind began to clear up. She suddenly realized the awkwardness of the entire situation. She cried on the stranger's shoulder! Well, he wasn't a complete stranger to her; at the end of the day, she had known him for years by now but still… She couldn't say that she knew him very well; she actually didn't know anything about him except for being Albert's aid and the most trusted man. And she doubted that witnessing somebody's private moments such as this belonged in the assistant's regular duties. Would he make fun of her from now on, she asked herself? No, came an immediate reply from within her, he hadn't laughed thus far, besides, he didn't seem the type… But would he still pity her, even if not openly? It would be hard for her to cope with that if he did…
This thought made her straighten up proudly. She really didn't want anybody's sympathy. Bracing herself, she turned.
He still stood in the same spot, without moving back even an inch, hands loosely hanging by his sides. As she lifted her head up to reach his eye level, she noticed no smile on his lips, not ever a trace. She didn't see pity in his facial expression either; there was only a wisdom that emanated from his serious, dark eyes. And something she couldn't quite explain happened. For some reason the rest of her tears had now vanished.
"Are you feeling better, Miss O'Brien?" he asked quietly.
"No," she replied honestly, with her voice a little hoarse from crying, "but it doesn't matter. I will feel better. One day. Hopefully." Still looking straight into his eyes, she cleared her throat, took a slow, deep breath and added, "Thank you."
The man's eyes opened slightly wider. "What are you thanking me for, Miss O'Brien? I haven't done anything special."
Patty blinked couple of times. So, she rejected his presence, convinced that she should be alone only to be proved that he was right when he insisted on keeping her company and now he is saying that it was nothing?
"But you did!" she stated quietly but firmly. "You did help me. I'm still sad, but now I think I have the strength to bear it. And this is all thanks to you. I did need someone… Why?" she asked all of a sudden, "What made you come after me?"
The man closed his eyes for a moment. "There are moments sometimes when one really shouldn't be left alone, no matter how much one desires it." he replied with the same quiet voice as hers.
"But why?" she demanded again. "Or, more like, how? How did you know, Mr. Johnson?" she inquired. He had indeed mentioned of his listening in to the conversation between her and Annie but it bothered her how he had managed to correctly guess her real mood, something that Annie had missed. And even though she still felt quite awkward about speaking so openly about her situation with a man she barely knew, she wasn't going to quit. By now, he already knew enough, speaking more of it couldn't do any more damage than has already been done. But she wanted to know the precise moment that she betrayed herself and it seemed like he could give her a straight answer. "You said that you knew before I even went to the garden. How? When?"
The dark, unwavering gaze rested upon her again and she found herself being studied very carefully, as if he wanted to make sure that she was serious about her request. She was, and she must have given her quite determined look because he finally, decided to reply. "During the announcement." he concisely explained. "It was the only time, for a very brief moment but I saw your facial expression."
So, this was it… This was indeed, just like she thought, the moment in which her mask fell off… For a few seconds she lost control over herself, overwhelmed by the pain in her heart… "And… nobody else saw it?" she pressed. "You are sure of that?"
He nodded. "It was only me." he assured her. "I know because it is my job to watch in silence and know before anybody else knows. Your secret is safe with me, believe me."
"And… in the garden? You heard me with Annie…" she went on bravely, nodding in the direction of the mansion, "So," she paused for a second, "how did you know that her words weren't enough to console me? She believed me when I said that I'm fine." she added. "Why didn't you?"
"Would any consolation work so quickly?" he answered with a question. Then, he turned away from her slightly so now they were both facing the lake and subconsciously, Patty exhaled inaudibly with relief. Bravery was one thing but she felt a little weird looking right into his piercing eyes. Speaking into the empty space before them felt much more comfortable and safe. "It always takes time." he continued and these few simple words resounded dully in the humid air. "And it also takes one's experience to know that an interrupted cry is never a finished cry."
Despite the sadness that still seemed to drown her, his words made her curious. This man seemed to have a habit of either speaking really sparsely or speaking in riddles in order to avoid a direct answer. And even though involuntarily, she found herself intrigued. Not irritated anymore, now, when all the tension and anger from within her were gone, there was only intrigue. "What do you mean, Mr. Johnson?" she asked.
"Sometimes a thousand words won't do as well as a simple tear, for as long as it isn't shed in secret before the world." he stated enigmatically. "Simply speaking; sometimes it's better to cry than talk about the problem for hours but it isn't good when one is lonely in such moments. And losing a dream does make people feel lonely. And vulnerable."
Patty couldn't help but to turn and stare at him with a questioning gaze, a little lost, not really understanding the full meaning of his words. And she admitted that aloud.
"At some point, Miss O'Brien, you said something about Sir Andrew being only a dream to you, something beautiful to hold onto." he explained. "Mrs. Cornwell is a very good friend but with all due respect, she is still very young," he added, again, seemingly out of context, "perhaps too young to read between the lines, to understand the double meaning of your words. Because, not to everyone of course but to some people losing a dream, especially if this dream was like a guiding light, can sometimes be painful, it can shatter one's world… or, at least seriously shake it. She has been thus far spared from such an experience, thank God, but this prevented her from seeing the real depth of the situation."
"But you weren't spared, were you?" she retorted in a sudden epiphany, before she could stop herself. A slight look of pain crossed the man's face and died out as quickly as it appeared but she noticed it and realized that she involuntarily touched some sore spot of his. "I'm… I'm sorry." she apologized sincerely. "I didn't mean to bring anything painful. It's just… what you said…" she shrugged slowly, "It seemed as if you were speaking from your experience and…"
Her voice trailed off as she felt her natural inner shyness creeping back in. For a quite long time now, many people thought of her as a more mature, confident woman. And confident she was – but not when it came to the world of emotions, whether hers or someone else's. She hated being injured but what she hated even more was to hurt others. And there was something about this man that made her incapable of wearing her mask of boldness. So there she was; feeling emotionally naked and unable to cover her vulnerability. She felt embarrassed; embarrassed and ashamed, for involuntarily hurting somebody with her impulsive words. She bowed her head and pressed her lips together.
"It's alright, Miss O'Brien, don't worry about it." he replied calmly. "You were right; I was indeed speaking from my own experience."
Patty couldn't help but to spare him a quick, discreet glance again. And this time, he noticed. It couldn't have been otherwise; in fact, she found him already looking at her. For a moment, he held her gaze with his own.
"I'm old, Miss O'Brien." he went on with a barely noticeable smile before turning away again. "Believe me, the years I've lived are more than enough time for the things of different sorts to happen. And yes… I did once lose a dream that shattered my world."
Surprised by this sudden confession, Patty opened her mouth as if she was just about to ask about something but closed it within the next second and once again pressed her lips together, as if to stop herself from blurting something out. Now she understood. So, that's how he knew… He must have recognized my grief as his own from the past, whatever happened to him… She concluded. He knew what I was going through because he had been through something similar… That's why he didn't want me to be alone… It's… it's so kind of him to be so concerned about me, about the person he barely knows…
She wasn't even aware that she wasn't as focused on her broken heart as much as she had been so far. The sadness was still there, deep within her, but what was really weird, she felt somehow detached from it. Instead, surprisingly to herself, she found herself pondering about the man standing beside her. Never before, through out the last six years of knowing him had she once considered him a person with his own personality. From her point of view, George Johnson was always only the Andrews' lawyer and executor, professional in every way, the man so committed and loyal to this family, he seemed to live only for his duties. She just realized how wrong she was; being ever so quiet and so perfectly discreet, that even though he was present in a big company, he was barely noticeable. But surely he had to have his private life. Of course he must have had one, like everyone; he must have had his own personal joys and sorrows, hopes and disappointments…
She wasn't going to ask directly about his personal drama of course, this would have been simply rude. But she wondered if what he told her was totally coincidental. And the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was getting that it wasn't. She might have been completely wrong but she had a funny, strong inkling that he was trying to gently hint at something…
Gaining again all the courage she had, although without looking at him, she inquired, "Mr. Johnson… Do you mind… do you mind if I ask you something… about your experience?"
For a moment, there was no reply. Then, she sensed his movement and felt his gaze on her. And indeed, when she looked up, she again met her temporary companion's dark, nearly black eyes. For a few more seconds he looked carefully into hers in complete silence and then, he shook his head.
"I don't mind, Miss O'Brien." he replied with a small but this time much warmer smile. "Please," he encouraged, "ask me whatever you feel like."
"How can one live later… you know, after losing that dream?" she asked the question that had been swirling in her mind for the last couple of minutes. "Is it possible to live life as it was before? Like nothing ever happened?"
The smile faded slowly from the man's face and he became very serious again. "No." he replied firmly, and in his voice she clearly sensed a certainty. "This is impossible, I'm afraid. No one remains exactly the same through out his entire life. That's impossible because everything around us changes and influences us, whether these are big events or just the everyday issues we don't even notice. We change constantly along with the world surrounding us, we experience good and bad things and foolish is the one who believes that he can chose for himself only the good ones. Life isn't about picking the best bits and acting as if the bad ones didn't exist. Life is about facing the reality as it is and living it day by day."
It was something odd in hearing this nearly philosophical statement in the late, foggy evening. Or, maybe not? Patty listened, her eyes wide opened, a little intimidated by this firm reasoning. Like a question and an answer. She thought, feeling vaguely that the words of consolation changed subtly into a gentle scolding. But he was right, she admitted to herself. Life indeed wasn't about living in one's dream world. Life was about living the reality…
"Okay then… But… is it possible to live through everything, mostly the bad, without becoming embittered?" she corrected herself.
"That…" he pronounced the word protractedly, "is entirely up to one's determination. If one loves life enough on its own, one will not allow oneself to become embittered."
It wasn't exactly the answer she wanted to hear but she didn't feel disappointed or upset. It was peculiar but these words carried some sort of strength along with them. Maybe if I repeat it to myself enough times, I will manage to convince myself that I can live normally, that I can perhaps be happy again… one day… No! No 'if' or 'maybe'! She decided suddenly, straightening up firmly. I will be happy again!
Patty really felt strong now. This unexpected and unwelcomed meeting with the man she knew and yet she didn't, let her understand that she wasn't the only one having sorrows. During the party in the parlour she had considered herself the unluckiest, unhappiest and the loneliest person on the face of the planet, darkly foreseeing only more of her bad luck and loneliness in the future to come. But now she saw things differently; she was only one of many. More; others probably had or were experiencing much worse things than she just did. Heck, she swore in her mind, she herself experienced worse things in the past! If she lived after losing Stear – she'll live after this too!
Her own, such unusual determination sent shivers up her spine. She was surprised to feel this way. It was as if a new Patty was born tonight. A new, more determined Patty. No more letting her life slip through her fingers! No more cowardly waiting for a better opportunity to come – she will be creating her own opportunities! No more harbouring hopeless, unrealistic dreams – she will stick to reality and there she will be looking for her happiness! Not in a soft, comfortable dreamland! Yes, that's what she will do!
Patty shuddered again and this made her rouse. She looked around. It wasn't only her new attitude that gave her chills. It was also the fog. While they talked, it thickened, creeping higher and higher up the lake's bank and stealing every bit of warmth from the night air. She didn't notice it before, so focused was she on the conversation.
"We should get back." she spoke clearly, breaking the long moment of silence between them. "It's getting cold. Besides, I'm sure they are already looking for us."
The man looked at her, visibly surprised by her change in subject. It was probably by the firmness in her voice too because his gaze was long and enquiring. "As you wish, Miss O'Brien,." he agreed, seeing as she shuddered slightly. "But before we do, I'd suggest that you wash you face first."
"My… oh…" she understood suddenly and raised her hands to her eyes. She brushed her skin gently; her fingertips came back black from the mascara. She didn't want to even wonder how horribly she might have looked like with black patches smudged around her eyes; without hesitating even a second, she turned and ran down the path, towards the lake. She didn't have the slightest idea how badly her make-up was smudged so to be sure, she carefully washed her entire face. It didn't matter how she looked right now but it will matter soon, once she re-enters the parlour. It was better if she went inside slightly pale rather than looking like a panda bear, she thought.
She couldn't avoid feeling surprised when she turned around. The man had waited a few feet away from her with a handkerchief in his hand. She accepted it hesitantly but also with gratefulness. Without a word she dried her face, only feeling how sore her eyes were. This fact alone told her that she didn't look decent enough to simply walk back into the party and act as if nothing happened. Everybody would immediately notice her red, swollen eyes.
"Mr. Johnson…" she inquired with her eyes still closed, "Is it possible I could use the kitchen entrance? I think I should go straight to the guest's bathroom and make sure my face looks decent." she admitted honestly.
"It's possible," he confirmed, "but it's not only the guests' curious looks you should avoid on the way in, it's also the servants'. And I'm sure that the kitchen is probably full of them right now. If you don't mind, I could recommend a different entrance."
Patty glanced at him expectantly.
"We could enter through the dining room." he explained. "I have the spare keys and there shouldn't be anyone there now so you could come inside unnoticed."
"Sounds reasonable." she agreed. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson. I really wouldn't like anybody else to see me… and know."
"I understand." he assured her.
Patty nodded and began walking up the path. They left the beach behind in silence, without looking at each other anymore. Meanwhile, the fog had crept even higher and now was almost covering the entire garden. It muffled the sound of their footsteps; actually everything sank into a still quietness. It invited to simply contemplate the silence of the night rather than speak and it suited Patty's need. There was something else she wanted to say and she needed a moment of silence to think it through.
In this surreal silence, they finally got to the stairs and ascended onto the terrace. Avoiding the bright lights coming from the parlour, they went to the other door on the left side of the building. As he had mentioned, there were no lights on, nor a single soul inside. George reached into his inner breast pocket and from there, retrieved a small, leather wallet. As he unzipped it, whatever amount of the dim moonlight that entered here reflected on the very few keys that appeared inside.
"Mr. Johnson…" Patty spoke quietly, stopping him just before he inserted the key into the lock. He turned towards her and waited, looking at her calmly. She bit her lips again; there was really something about this man she had never noticed until today, something in his unwavering gaze that made her feel uneasy, as if she was a little, timid girl. Odd, considering that he was her friend's employee. Why then did she feel like she needed to explain how she felt? Why did she feel as if she needed to be sure that there were no inaccuracies between them? Who was he to her anyway? Was it only because of this brief, ephemeral moment of understanding? She didn't know. She didn't know if she wanted to know.
"Mr. Johnson…" she said his name again, this time more firmly, "I just wanted you to know something… Despite of what I feel right now… deep down I'm happy for Albert and Candy, really. It's weird because these two feelings shouldn't exist in one's heart at the same time… but they do. They contradict each other and yet…"
"Miss O'Brien." he interrupted her gently. "I do understand, trust me." He closed his eyes for a moment – she saw it even in the near darkness – and added in a serious, mused voice, "One can feel torn this way sometimes."
Patty sighed with deep relief. He understood. He really, really understood.
"I want to ask you for something once again, Mr. Johnson…" she went on. "I know you are loyal foremost to Albert but I really need to ask you to keep this a secret. What I said to Annie earlier on… I was honest. I really don't want to damage our friendship by letting them know how I feel."
He didn't reply straight away, he only stood there, looking at her strikingly carefully. Once again she felt slightly perplexed under his serious, understanding gaze.
"Whoever gave you your name, Miss O'Brien, did it wisely." he said finally.
Completely dumbfounded, Patty opened her eyes wider and barely restrained herself from shaking her head. Maybe he understood her but it didn't work both ways!
"Patricius in Latin means noble." George explained, seeing a silent question in her eyes. "Just like hiding your pain for your friends' sake is, too. They will never find out how good a friend you really are to them – and this is exactly what makes your actions so noble."
Patty didn't reply. She simply couldn't. What a weird evening, she thought. Weird evening, weird meeting, weird man, weird talk… I just don't follow…
"I promise." George added shortly.
"Thank you." she replied. Had someone ask her right now, she wouldn't be able to tell if she was thanking him for his promise to be discreet or for the most unusual and yet, the nicest compliment she had ever received.
George nodded and turned towards the door. The key finally found its destination and with a quiet click unlocked the glass door. "I know I'm not at all in a position to offer it," he added as she slipped inside, "but should you feel one day that you need to talk to someone… I will always be here."
Patty stopped. "Thank you." she repeated quietly her words of gratitude. She didn't know why but the man's proposition moved her deeply. Yet, she knew that she'd rather never feel the need to talk about what happened to her tonight. And she felt like she had to decline his offer in a delicate manner. She owed him too much to simply say: 'no!' As she walked away, she looked back at the man standing there from behind her shoulder. "I really appreciate that but I think that from now on I should rather focus on living my reality."
A slight smile and a barely noticeable nod told her that he, again, understood.
Patty turned her head and without looking back anymore, she walked forwards and melted into the darkness of the dining room.
Behind her, the door closed and then locked with a quiet click.
O O O