CHAPTER NINTEEN

WALTZ OF TRUTHS

"Melanie," Ichabod gently shook my shoulder. "We've arrived."

I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes as John opened the door. "Here we are, sir!" A cold breath of air shot through the carriage and I shivered. Ichabod stepped out, and offered me a hand. I took it and climbed out of the cab staring in wonderment at the mansion that stood before us. The house shone a shale gray in the moonlight and ivies enveloped the front of the house, twisting and entwining around windows that flickered a warm yellow. A cobbled path lead to the house surrounded by enormous maple trees and the fait hush of music and voices rang out in the bitter December air.

Snowflakes fluttered from the sky, landing lightly in our hair and melting as soon as they touched our skin. Ichabod took my arm in his and escorted me down the path.

An usher in a thick top hat and gloves, opening the door with a bow, revealed a vast ballroom adorned with the gold and silvers of the holiday season. Men in three piece suits and tuxedos, hats, white gloves, and canes were scattered about in clusters sipping brandy and laughing lightly at each other's comments. Other men, mostly younger than those sipping the brandy, accompanied the women guests dancing to the soft humming of a string quartet. The women, all it seemed restrained by the laces of a corset, were donned in winter long-sleeved velvet gowns or waltzing silks. The young woman flirted hopelessly with their dancing cohorts, young attractive men who had arrived without an accompaniment, and perhaps now I knew why Ichabod had asked I go with him.

"Change of scenery, isn't it?" Ichabod asked me seeing my reaction.

"Very much so," I replied still gazing around the room in astonishment. "They all seem so perfect."

"That's because they are…or that's what they want you to think." Ichabod grinned like human perfection wasn't uncommon. I had never attended anything so like this before, so elegant. Everyone appeared to be flawless – The women in gorgeous gowns with porcelain skin were happily married to men that could be older than their fathers. But what made them so happy? It certainly wasn't that little thing called love, and I had no doubt money was more of an attraction than appearance or character.

"Constable Crane! Ichabod Crane!" an older man of no more than 5'4" rushed towards us with a glass of golden liquid. He was pudgy and had a bushy white mustache that curled at the tips. The lights of the room reflected off his baldhead and in the glass lenses of his bifocals. "Constable, I thought that was you."

"Ah, Mr. DeBoise," Ichabod smiled. "Quite a gathering you're having this year."

"It's not too bad," the man said looking around the room and he took a sip of his drink, sloshing the ice around in his glass. His eyes stopped on me. "And where is the Mrs. Crane?" he asked looking at Ichabod with a raised eyebrow.

"Pardon my ill manners. Katrina has a family obligation and therefore she could not attend this evening." Ichabod said. "However, I'd like to introduce Miss Melanie Olsen, a dear friend of our family."

I took a step forward and offered my hand. Mr. DeBoise took it and gently put his lips to my flesh. "It's a pleasure," I blushed slightly.

"Melanie, this is Lemoñd DeBoise, the host of this fine party," Ichabod introduced us.

"If only I were a few years younger," Mr. DeBoise chuckled lightly, his laugh thick and harsh caused by years of cigar smoking. A dark-haired woman, in a velvet green gown glided to his side, towering inches above him, and grinned pleasantly at me.

"And the Mrs. DeBoise," Ichabod smiled politely at the woman as her husband, at least twenty years her senior, introduced us.

"Lemoñd, darling. I believe it's about time to begin the waltzes." Mrs. DeBoise amiably reminded her husband.

"Yes, of course," he answered her and shouted the announcement causing an abrupt alternation in the music and the tempo of which gowns twirled. All the people around us eagerly participated in the waltz and before I knew it, Mr. DeBoise took my hands and led me through the different movements of the dance. I kept my eyes on Ichabod and could hardly contain my laughter as I saw him awkwardly dancing with the Mrs. DeBoise, making sure the utmost space remained between them at all times. So much like Ichabod, I smiled to myself.

When the waltz finished, I politely thanked Mr. DeBoise and spent the next two dances lightly sipping a glass of champagne watching as the tireless dancers skipped and frolicked about. I politely refused as a few men asked me if they could have this or that dance, and found myself perfectly content watching Ichabod chatting with a gentleman near the foyer. Just by the way his eyes shimmered, I knew he was engaging in a conversation about his many sciences.

People began to issue their salutations and depart the party before the final waltz began. A light tap on my shoulder caused me to startle slightly, and I spun around only to collide with the smiling face of Ichabod. "I was hoping I could have the final dance?" he asked shyly.

"Why Constable, I'd be honored!" I grinned teasingly as music started.

"I must warn you though, I'm not a proficient dancer," he admitted taking my hands.

I laughed. "Neither am I, but what do we have to lose?"

"Just our reputations that we aren't fools," Ichabod grinned, placing his left hand on the small of my back. I chuckled again as a tingle shot up my spine. We twirled about the polished floor to the lively tempo of the final waltz. Ichabod mumbled an apology every time his foot stepped on top of mine, and I completely missed the fourth pattern during the line run, but I hardly noticed as I was lost in the waltzing tempo of my own heart. When the music seized, we both stood catching our breaths, almost laughing aloud at our comedic performance.

"What a fine couple we made," I giggled. "I do believe the whole room was laughing at us."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Ichabod said slowly removing his hand from where it rested on my back. "But I did warn you."

At that moment, the grand clock bellowed its chime reminding us that it was eleven O'clock. I stared at it in disbelief like there was some possible way it was mistaken. "So late already?"

Ichabod pulled his gold pocket-watch from the inside pocket of his jacket. "I'm afraid so," he said snapping the lid shut after he confirmed the time. "I do think it best if we took our leave, don't you?" he questioned. "We have yet a long journey tonight."

"You're probably right," I nodded in agreement. We gave the DeBoises' our farewells and thank-yous and they wished us the best on our journey home.

A thick blanket of snow had accumulated on top of the carriage when we arrived. The horses slept lightly as they waited and perked their ears when they heard us approach. John sat hunched in his coat on the diver's seat, blowing on his hands to keep them warm. His face glistened pale purples and grays from the cold. "There you are Master Crane," he said shivering as he opened the door. Ichabod and I climbed into the coach, and the blacks pranced excitedly when John cued a brisk jog.

"Thank you," I finally said, my breath exiting my mouth in a white fog. It had been several minutes since we had set out, and no one had said a word. Silence occurred often between Ichabod and I, probably because we both felt uncomfortable in each other's presence, but every time it did, it felt as if a noose were tightening around my neck.

"No, thank you," he smiled, his lips a dull purple in the cold and minimal moonlight. "You have done so much for me these past few months."

"As have you." I paused and took a breath. "Ichabod, do you remember when we met?" I asked shakily. "That day in the meadow when I was picking flowers and you suddenly appeared and said Apparently I'm not the only one who finds the peace in this meadow comforting… And I replied saying Yes I –"

"…Had found that the meadow was rather comforting," Ichabod finished my sentence. "Yes, Melanie, I remember it. I think about it everyday." He finished in a whisper and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

"Then you don't regret ever meeting me?" tears brimmed my eyes as I waited for the truth.

"Oh Melanie," he brushed his fingers along my jaw line. "Never think that…ever. Promise me," He looked searchingly into my eyes in an assertive way I did not recognize. He held my head in his palms and brought our faces close so that my eyes could not leave the concerning, demanding gleam of his own. "Promise me," he said, and I could feel the soft waft of his breath kissing the tip of my nose.

"I promise," I whispered.

"I never regret anything," he continued. "You can't change the past, so why be sorry?"

"I don't know," I shrugged my shoulders and looked into his eyes that were like a magnet drawing me closer to him. I could feel the shallowness of his warm breath against my face as I whispered in his ear. "Then you wouldn't regret this?" I hesitantly put my lips to his mouth and waited intensely for rejection or consent. At long last, the instant came when I felt his lips tentatively respond to mine pressing nervously against my tender flesh.

I didn't let go, because if I did it would be like letting go of life itself. I felt his gentle fingers entwining my auburn ringlets and I glided my hand to the back of his neck. Finally our lips parted and I laid my head against the seat breathing heavily. If only I wasn't wearing this damn corset, I thought. Ichabod brushed his fingers through his hair and I stared out the window as the trees wondered past. "There have been times," I said. "Many times, when I wonder why things have to be the way they are. I sometimes wonder how my life would be if I never had met you – where I'd be, what I'd be doing, who'd I be with? But then I'd realize that my life would be nothing without you. And that I'd rather wake each day knowing you're a part of my life, even though I could never have you, or love you and be certain you loved me back, than waking up each day never knowing you existed because just knowing you gives me a reason to breathe." Tears erupted from eyes and I sobbed uncontrollably. Ichabod took me in his arms and held my head against his heart, cooing and comforting me and running his fingers through my hair and kissing the crown of my head. And then I cried even more because this is what I had wanted for so many years, ever since I was a little girl – loving arms to embrace me and hold me close and tell me everything would be alright even if it wouldn't be. I wept until I ran out of tears to weep, and then I just sat in Ichabod's arms as the rocking of the carriage, Ichabod's comforting scent and soothing words lulled me to sleep. Little did I know, tears fell silently from Ichabod's eyes as well, rolling down his cheeks onto the top of my head.