She turned twenty one just two weeks after they had died, they would have been back by now, she would have been home from school, her arms folded on the arm of the chair as she smiled, listening to their new stories, they always had stories to tell. She would have pretended this year not to be excited about presents, would have acted grown up and smiled mischievously when offered whatever gift they had wrapped in gossamer and silk, another pretty trinket from a market fair to add to her collection.
But this year she sat nestled in the confines of her blankets, her eyes frozen and unseeing on the rain that trickled down her window pane. She ducked her head when she noticed him in the doorway, the cold weight of his stare heavy on her shoulders as she waited for him to speak, to say anything at all. She wondered if he even knew what today was, that it was supposed to be a special occasion, but instead she found herself suddenly vulnerable, alone and completely independent in the eyes of the law.
She felt a tension in her limbs as he approached her, holding out his hand to her, waiting with a restrained patience as she stared at his hand, her own trembling and cold in his as she let him pull her to her feet, the blanket falling at her feet as he led her from her room, the hallway dark as the night had closed in. she shivered with an odd sort of trepidation, this was the first time he had actually come to her, instigated any sort of communication since he had brought her home, had opened the door with a key she had never known he'd had.
She tried not to think of how warm his hand was around hers, that he felt more real to her now than anything ever had
She smelt the lavender before they even reached the bathroom, a soft light spilling out of the doorway as he stopped shortly, his hand dropping hers as she smiled at the scene that he had made, the beautiful claw foot tub filled and steaming, the pinnacles of bubbles climbing up beyond the rim and shining in the glow of the multitudes of candles that littered the room, the crystal glass that sat on the bench filled with a deep claret. She held her hand to her lips, her heart melting at such a beautifully simple gesture on such a dark and depressing day. She wanted to thank him, to take his hand in hers again and kiss his cheek, but when she turned he had already stepped back, his face once again in the shadows, down turned as he retreated, his soft utterance of "Happy birthday" almost lost in the thick steamy air that wafted from the doorway.