Henry puts down his bag and sinks into a chair, letting himself relax for a moment. He looks around in his new home—because it's his home for now. He tries to shake this thought off his head but the word home tastes too good on his tongue. When he decided to rent the house, Henry warned himself not to think of it as his own place; yet he's barely spent two minutes here and he's already calling it his home. It's not an accurate name, he tells himself. After all, he only occupies this place until the Bailey brothers return. He will keep the house shipshape, maybe lend a helping hand to his new neighbours, but that's all. Even though he has enough chairs to have guests, Henry won't invite anybody to his ho— house. This new arrangement won't change anything; he still doesn't need more than a room with a bed.
Although it feels nice to have more than one window.
Henry looks at his bag, then gets up with a small sigh. He needs to unpack, yes, but first he needs to pay a visit.
Half an hour later he stands in front of the Montgomerys' house, washed and in changed clothes—and nervous from head to toe. Maybe he should have come sooner? Henry tries to tell himself that he didn't want to come before he felt ready.
Anyhow, he is here now, so takes a deep breath and knocks.
"Good morning." The door is opened by the youngest kid, Miles. The boy blinks up at Henry with suspicion in his eyes.
"Good morning. Can I see your mother?"
Miles turns around and shouts: "Mum, Mr. Gowen is here to see you!"
"Well, let him in, sweetheart."
Miles shrugs and steps out of the way.
As he walks in, Henry can't help but notice that the place looks less tidier than it used to be. It isn't dirty or neglected but it gives the impression of a house without a firm governing hand. Henry thinks that he knows why—even though she isn't able to do any housework anymore, Cat Montgomery doesn't want to put it all on her children. Gabe had to give up his studies when she fell ill and now she won't let Emily or Miles go to school without homework just because the floor needs to be swept.
"Good morning."
Cat Montgomery is lying on the sofa, propped up on pillows, and Henry is shocked by how thin she is. The bright colours of her blanket bring out her paleness, and her hands look awfully small on top of it.
"Good morning, Henry." Her warm smile shows that the reverend was right; there is a strong soul hidden in the weak body. "Please, take a seat and tell me how can I help you."
Why does everybody think he wants help? Why does everybody think he wants anything from them? Maybe because he used to be the man who always wanted something? Preferably power and/or money, not help.
"I just—" He starts but the warmth in her smile confuses him. She should be frowning, shouldn't she? Henry sighs and starts again: "Look, I don't want to play the friendly neighbour—"
"Then why are you here?" Miles cuts in and he's doing all the frowning for both of his mother and himself.
"Miles!" his mother chides him. "I don't remember teaching you to be impolite to our visitors."
"I'm sorry," the boy mumbles.
"It's okay," Henry nods. Apart from not causing trouble, he knows that he hasn't done anything for the town, and it takes more than just being there to earn some respect. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
"He wanted to stay until Doctor Shepherd arrives."
"I could stay. Since I came to offer my services, it's the least I can do."
"Your services?"
"Helen Black said I was excellent at chopping wood," Henry jokes and he feels awfully grateful when Cat reacts with a smile.
She motions Miles closer with her hand, then hugs him and places a kiss on top of his head. "Go to school, sweetheart."
"I want to stay," he whispers into her ear.
"I'll be fine and you need to study. I love you, Miles," she whispers back and now Henry feels like an intruder. "I love you, okay?"
The boy nods. "I love you, mum."
Another kiss. "Now go; I'll see you after school."
Miles grabs his books and heads for the door before rushing back for one last hug.
"Bye, mum!" He calls back from the door: "Bye, Mr. Gowen!"
"Good bye, Miles!"
Henry turns back to Cat. "Sorry, I didn't want to intrude."
"Actually, you're not intruding, rather doing me a favour—but why?"
Henry sighs. "I don't mean to sound rude but can't we just talk about how do you feel?"
"I'm adequate, thank you for asking. But can we talk about something else? It's the only thing people ask from me."
They share a smile at this.
"So, you don't like to be interrogated about why did you come back to Hope Valley, I don't like people being concerned about my health… What shall we do about it?"
"When I had to enjoy the comforts of the infirmary," Henry grimaces, "I liked to hear about everyday town life. I could tell you about that, if you'd like, then maybe you could tell me how is Gabe doing in Cape Fullerton." He tries to appear more self-assured than he feels but fears that he's gone overboard with his bold offer. Actually, Cat should order him out of her house for this obtrusion. "Or maybe I should just shut my mouth and chop some wood."
"You're obsessed with that wood, aren't you?"
Henry can't believe his eyes—Cat is still smiling at him.
"Please, don't gape like a fish. I'm too ill for not forgiving those who want to be forgiven." Her smile disappears and her face turns all serious. "I'm not saying I've already forgiven you but I promise that I will."
She extends a hand, and Henry takes it, oh-so-carefully, hiding her thin, shaky fingers in his palm.
"And I promise that I won't let you down."
The moment is broken by a knock, and the door is opened by Carson.
"Henry! I didn't expect to see you here."
"I like to keep busy." He rises from his seat. "But I'm afraid I've wearied your patient."
"I'm glad you came over, Henry." Her words sound sincere and Henry lets himself believe them.
"See you later," a pause before barely a heartbeat later he adds, "Cat."
-:-:-:-
If it's true what they say about your first dream at your new home coming true, then Henry shouldn't put his hopes too high. He feels so tired after his first night he's practically dragging himself to the saloon. Tough luck that a big supply of alcoholic beverages is arriving this morning—his body doesn't seem to be ready for the task of carrying and unloading heavy packages.
In his dream (or more like, nightmare) Henry tried and failed to find his way out of an unforgiving dust storm. He heard the echo of distant voices so he kept turning around, but no matter where he reached or how far he went, he didn't meet anybody. He couldn't hold onto anything because he only grabbed dust that quickly spilled from his hand. It was everywhere. Dust threatened to swallow him completely; it filled his lungs and Henry woke up gasping for air.
Walking up to the saloon, he spots Bill from the corner of his eye, and increases his pace—he's not in the mood to face him. However, today is surely not Henry's day as Bill catches up with him before he could slip into the building.
"Morning, Henry."
His cheerful tone sounds false.
"Bill." Henry nods, hoping that the good sheriff is merely bored and will leave him alone if he doesn't act too friendly.
"Are you feeling comfortable in your house?"
They're definitely, definitely not on good enough terms for such a question, so Henry frowns.
"Why do you care?"
"You know me, I care a lot about the welfare of the residents of Hope Valley." Bill shrugs.
"I know you, yes, that's why I'm not buying this lie you're trying to feed me."
"Now that you mention lying— I was wondering where would you get the money to afford a house...?"
"It's none of your business."
"It is my business if you're paying for it with illegally gained money."
No matter how Bill provokes him, Henry won't tell him about James; his private life isn't town business. So he only grunts: "You should watch what you're saying."
"I'm only saying you shouldn't get too comfortable. Who knows what shall I find out about you."
"I know." Henry doesn't care if Bill doesn't believe him and he isn't surprised at all. "You won't find anything but if it makes you happy, go ahead and pry as much as you want. You have a snooping, sniffy nose, Bill."
"You think you're awfully clever, eh?"
"I don't think anything," Henry gives a little shrug, "apart from that I'm going to be late so if you don't mind—" He gestures to the door and Bill steps aside.
"Enjoy your new home." Of course the good sheriff wants to have the last word.
It's not my home, Henry could say but he doesn't feel the spirit to argue further. He doesn't want to convince or defeat Bill—he only wants to survive today.
And maybe tomorrow.
Author's note: Hey, everybody! Hope you're doing fine, dearies! March is going to be rougher than expected—I have some close deadlines and work is getting really busy—but I'll try to keep posting regularly. Until the next chapter arrives, please, check out "Put Loneliness on the Shelf", my modern day AU Henrigail story.