Winter

Kate was alone. The world was still. A thick blanket of snow laid heavily over everything, muffling all sounds, while large flakes drifted lazily from the sky. The biting cold had numbed her nose and she was certain that her shoes were filled with snow. She leaned against the house and cautiously peeked around the corner. There was no one in sight.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and rubbed her nose. Definitely numb. Wasting no more time, she darted out of her hiding place and found cover behind a large tree. Kate quickly scooped up some snow, forming a ball in her hand. She glanced to the side and locked eyes with Sarah who was crouching behind a tree of her own. Sarah smiled and beckoned to her but Kate shook her head. Her friend then held up three fingers and wordlessly counted down.

When the last finger dropped, Kate burst forth from her hiding place, the snow crunching beneath her feet. But before she made much progress, a volley of snowballs pummeled into her, punctuated with John's boisterous shout. She tried to retaliate, flinging her own snowball in his direction but wasn't sure if it hit its target.

Kate lost her balance and fell into the snow. She threw her arms over her head. "I surrender!" She called out, breathless with laughter. The moment the snowballs stopped, she looked up and saw John watching her with a grin. At once, she seized the opportunity and hurled a snowball at him, catching him off guard.

A happy shriek echoed across the yard as Pat caught Sarah, lifting her off the ground. John rushed over to them and, grabbing onto Pat, they all tumbled into the snow.

Kate climbed back to her feet and brushed the snow from her coat. "I'll be headin' indoors," she said as she approached the group in the snow. She reached down and pulled John to his feet. "Me face is frozen and I'm fairly certain I've lost a few toes to frostbite."

John groaned.

"Ah, ye can stay out here as long as ye please," Kate remarked, tapping his nose. "But I thought I'd fix meself a nice mug of' hot cocoa."

His eyes lit up at the thought.

"Going inside sounds wonderful to me," Sarah said. "I'm pretty sure someone put snow down my dress."

Kate looked at Pat who smiled sheepishly.

"Why'd ye always think it's me?" He asked.

"Because ye always have that guilty look," she replied. She wrapped an arm around Sarah and guided her away. "Come on now. We'll go in and get some hot cocoa and leave the children outside where they belong."

"No!" John protested, already sprinting towards the house.

"Take your shoes off before you go in," Sarah shouted. She picked up her pace and ran after him, leaving Kate and Pat behind.

Kate glanced at Pat and found him gazing back at her. She tried to think of something to say but nothing came to mind and they walked the rest of the way in silence. At least we're not yelling at each other , she thought. That's something.


The nightclub was full of people again, always an endless party within its walls, but Cal enjoyed being there, becoming one among many, entirely anonymous. There were no expectations in that sea of faces, no correct way of speaking or acting, complete and total freedom. It was in that place, that he almost understood Rose and her desire to break free. Sometimes he wished he would run into her so he could tell her that, at last, he understood. But he knew he would never be able to bring himself to admit it, even if she was willing to listen.

As he sat at the bar, nursing a glass of gin, he noticed that the man sitting beside him kept stealing glances. At first, his attempts were subtle, but as the night went on, his stares became bolder.

Cal tried to ignore it, looking the other direction, pretending the man simply didn't exist, until he could bear it no longer. "Is there something I can do for you?" He finally questioned.

The man motioned to the bartender and ordered Cal another drink. "You're Caledon Hockley, right?" He inquired. "Nathan's son?"

Cal bristled as he always did when he heard his father's name. "The one and only," he replied dryly.

"You were on the Titanic , weren't you?" The man blurted it out, too loudly for Cal's liking.

He quickly looked around the room and was relieved to find that nobody was paying them any attention. "I was," Cal replied at last, fearing that if he ignored the man, the man would only grow louder.

"What must that have been like?"

Cal thought of screams, the icy water, and the heart wrenching cries that filled the following days. "It was only a ship," he mumbled the words into his drink.

"Yes." The man nudged his arm. "But it sank!"

"It certainly did." Cal turned himself away from the man, hoping he would take the hint.

But undeterred, he continued. "And were they really selling seats on the lifeboats?"

Cal nearly choked on his drink. "Where in the world did you hear something like that? That wasn't what happened at all."

The man nudged his arm a second time. "Oh, no. Don't mistake me one bit. That's how it should be, if you ask me." He winked. "Some people simply have more value than others."

"That's certainly true," Cal said, feeling his irritation rising. "But it has nothing to do with money." He thought of his wife and then he thought of Sarah and Kate and he knew who he would've saved if he had to choose.

"Of course not," the man replied. "It's a matter of manners."

Cal turned to him, but before he could say anything else, a young woman appeared on his other side and threw her arm around his shoulders.

"I knew I'd be seeing you again," Alice said. Her lipstick was smudged and she was already swaying under the weight of several drinks.

"Alice," Cal said, grateful for the interruption. He smoothly disentangled himself from her arms. "You're wearing shoes."

"I just haven't lost them yet," she explained. She reached across him for his drink, but he moved it out of her reach.

"Perhaps try to keep them this time?" Cal said. "Replacing them all the time must get expensive."

She waved him off his concern nonchalantly. "It's never my money," she said with a wink. "Could you be a doll and buy me a drink?"

Cal looked at her closely. "How old are you?" He asked.

Alice hesitated for a moment, her eyes sparkling with secrecy. Leaning in closer, she whispered into his ear. "Seventeen but keep it to yourself. Mr. Hoff doesn't like anyone under eighteen in his establishments."

He frowned and shook his head. She was much younger than he had thought, hardly more than a child.

"Honey," the man next to Cal called out to her. "Honey, why don't you come on over here? I'll buy you a drink or two."

Alice looked at Cal and shrugged. She began to head over but in a sudden act of protectiveness, Cal reached out and pulled her back.

The man gave him a hard look. "What do you think you're doing? I believe that young lady can go where she pleases." He rose from his seat and wrapped an arm around Alice's waist. "Come on now, honey—"

Cal pushed himself between them and delivered a punch that sent the man stumbling backward.

Before the man could regain his senses, he pushed through the crowd of people, heading in the direction of the door. He didn't particularly want to return home but the nightclub was suddenly no longer the place of anonymity he had needed. He opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air when Alice caught up to him.

"Where are you going?" She asked, looking at him expectantly.

"Home," he replied.

"Oh." Her face fell.

"You should go home as well," he told her.

She shook her head. "But I'm not finished having fun yet."

Cal looked at her and wished he could keep her safe. She was too young for a place like that. "If you're not going home, then at least stay away from that man."

Alice nodded. "I'll do my utmost, cross my heart." She smiled suddenly and with a clicking from her beaded dress, she turned and vanished back into the crowd.

Cal let the door close behind her and started on his way home, alternately grateful that Dinah wasn't there but wishing his children would be.


Every day at noon, work at the sawmill came to a halt, giving the workers an hour for lunch and allowing the overheating sawblades to cool. Most workers sat outside despite the cold weather, enjoying the sudden silence and breathing the fresh air free of sawdust.

Pat had his own place some ways away from the sawmill where he could be alone with his thoughts without the risk of being forced into a conversation. Usually, everyone left him alone and he enjoyed his moment of peace.

He was busy staring up at the deep blue sky when Hugh suddenly sat down next to him, looking at him expectantly. Pat took a deep breath and briefly considered moving to a different place. Long ago he had grown tired of Hugh's constant probing questions and the half-veiled insults.

But before he could do anything, the man spoke up. "I'm surprised to see you back," he said.

Pat looked at him. "Why wouldn't I be comin' back?" It was true that several men hadn't returned after the winter break, finding better paying and easier jobs elsewhere. But despite Sarah's hints that she wished he would find someplace safer to work, Pat had never even considered it.

Hugh shrugged. "Just surprised, that's all," he said. He picked up a small rock and threw it toward the sawmill. "Your sister's name is Kate, right?"

For a second, Pat was sure he must have misheard. He couldn't recall ever mentioning Kate's name to anyone at the mill—Kate would murder him in his sleep, if she found out he was speaking about her. His unease only grew as he realized that Hugh must have discovered it through someone else.

Hugh kept his gaze fixed on him. "She's a looker," he remarked casually.

"Since when have ye laid eyes on me sister?" Pat asked, his voice sharp.

Leaning in slightly, Hugh lowered his voice. "Saw her at St. Joseph's last Sunday," he admitted. "Had someone point her out to me."

Pat felt a flicker of alarm run through him. He stared at the ground in front of him, praying that the man would leave him alone.

"I didn't see you there," Hugh continued. "Not very religious, I suppose?"

His jaw tightened. "That's none of yer damn concern."

Hugh raised his hands in a conciliatory manner. "Apologies," he conceded. But after a moment, he pressed on. "Think you might introduce me to—"

Pat didn't give him the opportunity to finish the question. "Not a bleedin' chance," he snapped.

A trace of irritation passed over Hugh's face, swiftly replaced by a disarming smile. He shrugged. "Well, maybe I'll just introduce myself then. She lives on Sherwood, right?"

Pat sprang to his feet and Hugh slowly stood to face him. But before anything could escalate, a shrill whistle pierced through the air, signaling the end of the break.

Before Pat walked back into the mill, he purposely waited a few seconds, allowing Hugh to proceed ahead of him. Worry ran through his mind, as he debated on whether or not he should warn Kate. Warn her about what exactly? Hugh hadn't done anything wrong and Kate could make up her own mind about who she wished to speak to. Pat could already hear her response echoing in his mind: 'Patrick Murphy, always meddling.'


Fabrizio had almost made it to Rose's office when a woman suddenly stepped out in front of him. He abruptly stopped, nearly running into her, and took a couple of steps back. She looked familiar with her dark, bobbed hair and her striking white dress but he couldn't place where he had seen her before.

"Who are you?" She asked. She tilted her head to one side as she examined him, a glint of intrigue in her eyes.

Still caught off guard by her sudden appearance, Fabrizio struggled to find his words. "Excuse me, I just go by…" He managed to say as he attempted to walk around her.

The woman deftly side-stepped and blocked his path once again. "I've been watching you," she said. "You don't look like the type who usually works here."

"I don't work here," he admitted.

She let out a laugh. "Like I'd believe that. Everyone here either works here or wishes they did." She looked him up and down and scrunched up her nose. "Are you an actor?"

"No." Fabrizio wracked his brain trying to think of her name.

"Director? Producer? Investor?" Her face lit up at her own last suggestion and she took an eager step toward him.

He shook his head. "Just Fabrizio."

The woman reached out and plucked at the fabric of his sleeve. "Are you Lelia's husband?"

"She's married?" Fabrizio asked, entirely caught off guard. Lelia had never said anything to him about a husband and he couldn't recall ever seeing a ring on her finger.

The woman shrugged. "She could be. How would I know?" She said, entirely unconcerned. "It was merely a guess."

He tried to move past her again, but she shot out an arm and stopped him.

She gently pushed him back. "Not an actor or a director," she mused. She raised an eyebrow and smiled conspiratorially. "You barney mugging Miss Dewitt-Bukater?"

"Barney mugging?"

A knowing wink accompanied her next words and she stepped closer to him. "You know, rumpy-pumpy? Hanky panky?" She whispered playfully, testing his reaction with each word.

Fabrizio hadn't heard a single one of those terms before and he looked at her in confusion. "I don't—" The realization suddenly dawned on him. "Absolutely not," he insisted. The very thought was absurd. "Can I pass?"

The woman folded her arms across her chest and grinned. "You must be robbing the place then. It's the only explanation left."

He let out a resigned sigh. "Yes, I rob the place and then come back every week to do it again and again," he replied, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "Can I go?"

The woman stared at him a moment longer with a penetrating gaze. Slowly, she stepped aside, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm going to figure you out."

"Fine," he said, stepping past her. "You figure me out."

As he reached for the doorknob to Rose's office, a name suddenly flashed in his mind. Louisa Brooks. He looked back but the actress was already gone and for a moment he wondered if he had imagined the whole encounter. He shook his head and went inside.

Spring

The sun was just beginning to set, sending long shadows across the room and Kate sat yawning as she attempted to mend an apron. She hadn't slept well the night before and she kept missing stitches and knotting her thread. The house, itself, was quiet. Tommy was already sound asleep and Vera was in her room, getting ready for a night out—like she did most nights. Kate envied her energy.

There was a sudden loud pounding on the door, causing her to jump. She set her sewing aside and cautiously approached the door. It was too late in the evening for visitors aside from Sarah and Sarah rarely knocked. She always just let herself in. Kate opened the door slowly and frowned.

A man stood in the doorway, tired and dirty. "Are you Kate?" He asked without waiting for her to say anything first. "Kate Murphy?"

"It's been Kate Brandt for four years now," she replied.

"Pat's sister?"

She felt a trickle of unease run down her spine. "Aye, that'd be meself."

The man's gaze roved up and down her figure, causing her to bristle with irritation. "What?" She snapped at him. "Why are ye standin' at me doorstep?"

The man shook his head as though ridding himself of a lingering thought. "Right," he muttered. "There was an accident and I've come to fetch you."

The blood drained from Kate's face as her heart lurched in her chest. "A what?" She stammered, her voice hardly above a whisper. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "Is Pat…" She couldn't bring herself to utter the words, her voice trailing off into silence.

A sudden realization struck her. "I forgot," she exclaimed, turning abruptly and hurrying back to the house.

"Vera?" She called out urgently.

A response floated down from the stairs. "Yes?"

"I need to go and I need to go now," Kate implored. "I'll deduct $3 from the rent ye owe me if ye'll mind Tommy until I return. I won't be gone for too long," she added, feeling her own sense of uncertainty.

There was a pause followed by, "Alright, I suppose I could do that."

Kate breathed a sigh of relief as she ran back outside. "Why did ye come to fetch me?" She asked, climbing into the waiting car.

The man started the engine and the vehicle sprung to life. "Aren't you his only family?"

"I suppose I am." She hadn't really considered it before and the thought irritated her. Kate couldn't shake the image of Sarah, blissfully unaware, waiting for Pat's return. If only he had married her when he had the chance, she should've been the one currently being jostled along in the car.

A few times on the trip, she pried the man for information but he either knew nothing or was unwilling to say anything to her. Eventually Kate gave up and held onto her seat, closing her eyes and waiting for the unpleasant ride to end.

Kate had never been inside the hospital before and she hated everything about it. Its empty hallways and large rooms, the faded floral wallpaper that peeled away at the corners, the heavy scent of disinfectant and the distant echoes of muffled conversations.

She walked quickly, finally arriving in a long room. She slowly made her way through the rows of beds, stopping abruptly when she saw her brother. Kate took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her skirt, and approached him slowly.

His eyes were closed and his face was pale. A deep cut drew across his shoulder and up to his face. Most of it was concealed in a tightly wrapped bandage, blood still seeping through. As she neared, he opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile.

Kate hurriedly pulled up a chair to his bedside and sank into it. "They had me thinkin' ye were dead," she admitted. She struggled to maintain a steady tone, her words trembling slightly. "I'm getting' tired of thinkin' ye've died."

"I'm not dead," he said, wincing as he spoke.

"For God's sake, what happened?"

His gaze moved past her and a look of worry came over his face. "Where's Sarah?" He asked.

"I'm sure she's on her way," Kate told him. "She'll likely be here in a moment." She hoped it was true. She didn't like the idea of lying to her brother.

Pat slowly nodded.

Kate looked around the room, her eyes lighting on a nearby nurse dressed in a clean, white uniform. She rose to approach her but was stopped by Pat's sudden touch on her arm.

"Are ye leavin' me?" He asked.

"No, no," Kate reassured him. "I'll only be havin' a brief word with the nurse, that's all." She gave him a smile and then left his side.

"Pardon me," she said, stepping in front of the nurse. "Could ye tell me anythin'?"

The nurse looked at her in confusion.

"Regardin' him." Kate gestured to her brother. "I'm his sister and no one's bothered to inform me of anythin'."

"Oh, him," the nurse replied. "Lucky man. It seems he must've tripped and fallen on the sawblade. It must not have been running at the time otherwise it would've surely cut him in two."

"Me brother's not clumsy," Kate insisted. "He wouldn't have done that."

"Of course," the nurse replied in a patronizing tone. "But whatever happened, it's fortunate that he hit it with his shoulder."

Kate looked at him then back at the nurse. "But he's alright? He's fine?" She pressed. It seems impossible that anyone could fall on a sawblade and be fine.

The nurse smiled kindly. "In time," she replied.

When she returned to his side, his eyes were closed again but they flickered open the moment she sat down.

"Where's Sarah?" He asked a second time.

Sarah. Of course, he would've preferred to have her by his side. Kate blinked back her own hurt. "I'll go and fetch her," she said. She looked around the room, hoping to see the young man who had given her a ride but he was nowhere in sight. "I'll be back, alright?" Kate told him. "I won't just leave ye here."

Leaving her brother there, she went out into the lobby. She didn't want to have to walk the three miles home and she hated riding the streetcars—the last time she tried, she somehow ended up in Idaho and it had taken her half a day to find her way home again—but she was at a loss on what else to do.

"Pardon me," she said, approaching a man reading the paper. "Where does the trolley stop around here?"

Without looking up, he gestured to the door.

"And does that go to Sherwood?" She asked.

He shrugged but said nothing.

Kate looked out the door and frowned. She could feel her panic rising within her.

"I can give you a ride," a man said, coming to stand beside her. "If you need one."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you and I don't know if that would be—"

"I work at the mill with your brother," he cut her off. "That sounds rather unnerving. I'm sorry. I saw you just now visiting him and assumed you must be his sister."

Kate hesitated. Ordinarily she would've refused a ride from a strange man—it was highly inappropriate—but she was too worried about Pat and couldn't stop thinking about poor, oblivious Sarah who must surely be growing anxious. "Alright, I suppose," she said, relenting at last.

"I'm Hugh," the man said as they left the building.

"Don't mean to be rude," Kate replied curtly. "But I don't really care."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."


Sarah's fury boiled within her as she approached Pat's bed, her emotions barely contained. The sawmill had always been a place of deep-seated hatred for her, an ominous specter forever lurking in the back of her mind. Every week it seemed that there was a distressing article in the paper, 'Accident at the Mill' or 'Sawmill Fatality,' and she lived in constant dread of the day when Pat's name would be in those headlines. But what infuriated her the most was that she was the last one to find out. While everyone rushed to inform Kate, she was left alone, plagued by worry and wondering why he hadn't returned home from work yet.

Pat was asleep and she looked at him, alternately wanting to harangue him for his carelessness and draw him close to her, never letting him leave her side again. Memories of the agonizing days and weeks following John's loss flooded her mind, the suffocating struggle to breathe, the unbearable weight of simply existing. She couldn't bear to endure that pain again. She wouldn't survive it.

Unwilling to wake him, she looked about the room and spotted what could only be a doctor.

"Excuse me, sir," she said as she approached the man. "Could you tell me anything about—"

"Are you family?" The doctor interjected, looking at her skeptically.

Sarah looked at Pat then back at the man. She hid her hands behind her back and nodded.

The doctor let out a weary sigh as if longing to be anywhere else. "Typical sawmill injury…well, no. Typical is being crushed by a log or caught up in one of those belts. He tripped and fell on one of the blades. I presume he was drunk," he stated, matter-of-factly.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Why do you presume…" she started, but the doctor had already moved away, leaving her with unanswered questions.

Sarah returned to Pat's side and gently touched his arm to wake him. "Pat?" She called, softly.

He opened his eyes and a smile spread across his face. "I'm hardly hurt," he said. "There's no need to fret."

She took his hand—why was he always cold?—and held it tight. She wanted to offer soothing words, to convey her relief rather than her anxiety. But when she opened her mouth, all of the worry and fear and anger slipped out before she could hold them back. "If you weren't hurt, I'd slap you," she began. "I've told you again and again that I didn't like you working at that mill. I knew something like this would happen but you never listened. Oh, no…it's perfectly safe. I'm always careful. I always pay attention. You're only being foolish—"

"I've never called ye foolish," he cut her off in a quiet voice.

Sarah swallowed back the rest of her anger. "Well, maybe not."

"And I'm fine," he said. "I don't even feel anythin' at all."

"Well, that'd be the morphine," she explained. "I'm sure you'll be feeling plenty later." She reached over and tried to gently brush away the sawdust that still clung to his hair. "And how did this even happen? I spoke to the doctor and he said you tripped? And that you might've been drinking but I know that part isn't true because I know you and I know you wouldn't do that."

He started to shake his head but stopped himself and his grip momentarily tightened on her hand. "I wasn't drinking and I didn't trip."

"So you threw yourself on the sawblade? Did it jump up and attack you?"

"Sarah, I was…" He looked at her, a deep unhappiness in his eyes. "I tripped."

"Why are you lying to me?" Sarah asked. "I know there's something else going on."

"I'm not lyin'."

She wanted to argue, to press the matter further, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. He looked too pale, too helpless. "At least will you stop working there?" She pleaded.

Pat nodded.

"Just like that?" Sarah couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. She had expected him to argue.

"I can't move me arm," he explained. "I can't work anywhere."

Sarah gently squeezed his hand. "I'm sure that's only temporary."

"Where's Katie gone to?" Pat suddenly asked.

"Home," she replied. "She had left Vera watching Tommy and was worried that she was about to come home to a dead child." She sighed. "So now she's minding the children and will be back in the morning." Sarah hoped that was the real reason and it wasn't because Kate and Pat had been arguing again.

"She walked home?"

"Oh, no," she said. "Someone from the mill gave her a ride."

"Who?" He tried to sit up but Sarah gently pushed him back down.

"Hugh Something," she replied. "You need to lie down."

A strange look came over Pat's face. "I wish he hadn't."

"Why?" She asked, straightening his blanket. "He volunteered and it was perfectly nice of him to do so."

Pat didn't respond but she could feel his hand tremble in hers.

Sarah felt something flutter in the pit of her stomach. "Pat, what's going on? Do you not like him?"

"If I could bind him to a tree and send him straight through the sawblades at the mill, I'd do it without a moment's thought."

"Patrick!" She looked at him in surprise at the vehemence in his voice. "That seems like an overreaction to a man driving your sister home. She's an adult and doesn't need you looking after her."

He pulled his hand free and turned away from her.

Hearing an impatient tutting sound, Sarah looked over and saw a nurse standing nearby, watching with her arms folded.

"Pat," she said softly. She touched his arm to get his attention. "I think they want me to leave and you should get some sleep."

"I was asleep earlier," he replied. "Ye woke me up."

"I had to make sure you were alive," she admitted.

"Couldn't ye stay here?" He asked.

There was such a vulnerability in his voice that Sarah immediately turned and looked at the nurse expectantly. The woman shook her head.

Sarah sighed. "I don't think that's allowed but I won't be going far, I promise." She leaned over and kissed him. "I'll be back here the moment they let me." She rose from her seat. "I promise."


As Kate reached for the door, Vera burst through it, nearly knocking John down. "Oh, thank God," the young woman exclaimed as she brushed past them. "I'm really not cut out for mothering."

Kate, who had hardly managed to snatch John out of harm's way, looked at her. "Is he-"

"Upstairs, sleeping," Vera called back. "I have to go. I'm supposed to be meeting James at the Early Bird and he must surely be wondering where I'm at."

Kate shook her head. "Off to bed with ye, young man," she said to a half-asleep John as she ushered him inside the house. She turned to look at Hugh who still lingered in the doorway.

"Now that I've seen you home," he said. "I think I'm going to be on my way."

"Would ye like a cup of tea first?" Kate asked. "Me little way of showin' me gratitude for all of the lifts ye've given me."

"I could do with a cup," he replied at once.

Kate smiled. "The kitchen is right through there," she said, gesturing into the dark house. "I only need to get John settled in a bed and make sure me own son is still breathin' but then I'll be right in with ye."

Moments later with John tucked in and Tommy peacefully snoring, Kate poured two cups of tea. She placed one in front of Hugh and sat across from him, cradling her own cup in her hands.

Hugh looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the large window that sat above the sink. "This is a lovely home," he said.

"Thank ye," she replied. "Me late husband was the one who built it." She looked down at the cup of tea in her hands and smiled wistfully. "It's not quite the same without him here, but it's still home. He made this table too," she added, running a hand across the smooth surface. "But not the chairs." He had intended on making matching chairs the moment he was discharged from the Army after the war ended but then the Spanish Flu caught him before he had the chance.

"Pat did tell me you were widowed," he said. "I was sorry to hear it. I can't imagine."

"And what else did my dear brother tell ye about me?" Kate tried to conceal her irritation. She disliked the idea of Pat discussing her with the other men at the mill. She could only imagine the sort of things he might say.

"Oh, that's it," Hugh replied. "That is the only thing he's said. Your brother isn't very friendly."

Kate laughed. It felt strange to hear her brother, once known for his ability to befriend anyone within minutes, being described as unfriendly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Was that funny?"

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "It's only that he used to be very friendly and ye couldn't shut him up. But he's not quite the same anymore."

"Back when you were children?"

Memories of the Titanic flashed through her mind. The sinking had shattered something inside of him and since then he had become quieter and withdrawn. She doubted he willingly spoke to anyone anymore apart from her and Sarah. "Aye," she said softly, tracing a finger along the rim of her cup. "When we were children."

"Most people do change as they grow older," Hugh said.

Kate sought for a change in topic. Their conversation was drifting dangerously close to the sinking and that was a subject she couldn't bring herself to discuss. "Thank ye again for the rides," she said with a smile. "Sometimes I wish I had a car of me own, but they're mighty expensive. And I wouldn't have a clue how to drive it anyway."

"I could teach you how to drive."

She laughed. "That's mighty kind of ye, but I couldn't impose on yer time like that."

Hugh shrugged. "It'd be no bother at all," he replied. "And it's so easy, I'm certain you'd pick it up quickly so it'd take no time either."

The offer was tempting and Kate briefly imagined herself driving her own car, free from having to walk or rely on streetcars to get to where she needed to be. But before she could respond, Tommy let out a sudden cry. Calmly, she picked up her cup and took a small sip.

Hugh looked uncomfortable. "Shouldn't you be—"

Kate held up a finger and after a moment the crying stopped, sending the house, once more, into silence.

He grinned. "Well, that's magic right there," he said. "You must be a witch."

"Not a witch," she replied. "I just have a way with children."

"It's still a gift." He drained the rest of his cup and stood. "It's growing late and I really must be heading home."

Kate looked out the window, the world outside a deep darkness. "Right," she said, rising from her own seat. "I reckon yer wife must be gettin' a bit worried by now," she added.

"Oh, I'm not married," he stated simply. He stepped back to let her pass as they returned to the front door.

She was almost reluctant to let him leave, not so much because she enjoyed his company but because without his presence, she would once again be alone in a large house with children too young to feel like real people.

"Thank you for the tea." He hesitated a moment, one hand on the doorknob. "Your brother doesn't like me very much so maybe don't tell him I was here."

Kate smiled. "I don't see how yer bein' here is any concern of is," she replied. "So I won't be sayin' a word."

"Well." He opened the door. "Goodnight, Mrs. Bra—"

She swiftly cut him off. "Kate."

"Goodnight, Kate," he said, returning her smile.

As the door closed, she leaned against it, staring into the empty room. Deep shadows clung to the corners and the only sound was the ticking of a solitary clock on the wall.


It had been weeks but, at last, Pat was finally home. Even though he still couldn't lift his arm without a great deal of pain, and, even then, he couldn't lift it very high, he was grateful to simply be alive. And he was grateful that Sarah had finally stopped pestering him with questions about the mill. He didn't want to think about that night let alone speak of it and he knew that knowing more wouldn't make her worry less.

And there was a great deal to worry about. With him out of work, there was no money coming in, and the uncertainty of their future weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had never felt so frustrated and useless before. A burden.

But Sarah was perfectly content with the way things were. She fussed over him constantly, never giving him a moment alone. From morning to night, she was always near him. And every time he entered a room, she appeared by his side, like a guardian angel. He loved her deeply but wished ardently for a single moment of peace.

Finally, he suggested that she pay Kate a short visit and, to his surprise, she readily agreed.

The moment she had gone, he settled on the sofa and closed his eyes, enjoying being able to worry in peace.

"Pat?"

He snapped his eyes open to see her standing there. "Would ye just let me be for a single moment?" He immediately regretted his words.

The smile faded from her face and she clutched the book she had been holding tightly to her chest. "I was only going to ask you to keep an eye on John," she said, rapidly blinking back tears. "He's halfway up the tree out front." She took a deep breath and turned to leave.

"Sarah, wait." Pat ran forward and caught her arm. "Please. I am so, so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have…" He tried to pull her close but she stepped away. "Ye are the most amazin' person I've ever met and I—"

"Do you know how frightened I was?" Sarah interrupted him, her voice trembling slightly. "I was left at home, patiently waiting and wondering why you weren't coming. I was starting to think that you left me because if you had gotten hurt or died, surely someone would've come to tell me."

"No one told you?" He felt certain that he had immediately asked for Sarah the moment it happened.

"Your sister did, eventually," she said. "But she was the one they went to. Not me."

"Why didn't anyone—"

Sarah looked at the book in her hands. "Why would they? I'm not your wife. I'm not your family. I'm no one."

Pat took the book from her hands and set it aside. "You're not no one," he said. "Not to me."

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering. "Then why won't you marry me?" The question hung heavy in the air.

He stared at her, the earnestness on her face tearing at his heart, and loved her more than he ever thought possible. But it was also that love that made him hesitate, too afraid to give her the answer she wanted. "I'm not enough," he admitted at last.

"That's not for you to decide."

"Sarah…" he began. He tried to think of a way to say what he had always been afraid to say…to even think. To give voice to the nightmares and the terrible thoughts that plagued his nights, his waking moments. He wanted to tell her about the fears that whispered he was broken beyond repair. That it would've been unfair to tie someone like Sarah to someone like him. But before he could say anything, she stepped up to him.

She gently ran a finger along the scar on his cheek. Then, sliding her hand behind his head, pulled him close, and kissed him. "You're more than enough," she whispered the words. "I wish you'd believe it."

Summer

Pat thought about her words constantly. They played themselves over and over again, a melody that refused to fade. Every time he saw her, she'd flash him a smile and look at him expectantly, but still, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to, desperately he wanted to. But he knew with a bone-deep certainty that she would one day regret it. How could she not? He couldn't do it to her and he knew he needed to make it clear, to stop any small amount of hope that she might cling to. To break her heart. No matter what that might mean for him.

While looking for Sarah one day, he found John in the kitchen, busy making a pile out of the dishes.

"Where's yer mother at?" Pat asked.

John shrugged. "Outside somewhere. She said something about berries." He looked up suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "Can we go swimming this summer?"

"No," Pat quickly replied. "I mean ask yer mother."

The child made a face and returned to his task.

Pat went out the back door, walking past the table where they had sat so many times and into the woods where they had once run through, desperately searching for a missing John. He hadn't walked far before she came into sight.

Sarah moved through the underbrush in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, a basket in one hand, as she plucked the little orange berries. Every so often, she'd look around guiltily before popping one into her mouth. Her eyes suddenly met his and a smile bloomed across her face.

As he watched her, Kate's words suddenly echoed in his head, her warning that one day Sarah would find someone else. The thought struck him like a blow to the chest, stealing his breath. He tried to imagine her with another man—Hugh, perhaps—going about her life, marrying him, having children, growing old together. It was unthinkable. Unbearable. Impossible. In that moment, he knew, with an unwavering resolve, that he couldn't let her slip away.

Sarah stopped abruptly and she looked down at her dress. A frown came over her face as she attempted to tug free from the thorns that had ensnared her. She looked over at him, a silent plea for help in her eyes.

Pat shook off his reverie and approached her, laughing. "Yer not supposed to be walkin' straight through the bushes."

"There was a patch of berries right in the middle," she said. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "Could you untangle me?"

She held still as he slowly began to free her. "How in the world did ye manage to get it wrapped all around ye like this?" Pat asked.

Sarah shrugged. "I had gotten caught on one thorn and then the next thing I knew, I was completely surrounded. It sort of feels personal, if you ask me."

"I could just leave ye here," he teased.

"I don't think you could," she replied.

He looked at her and felt his breath catch. "No, I couldn't," he admitted. "I couldn't leave ye anywhere. There, yer free," he added as removed the final thorn, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment longer than necessary. "Ye can go wherever ye please."

"I don't want to go anywhere." She looked down at her legs and examined the small scratches that adorned them. "I suppose it could be worse."

Sarah?" He said, his voice hesitant.

She looked up at him and waited.

For a moment, the voice inside him resurfaced, listing all the reasons why he should turn and walk away, why everyone would be better off without him, and he nearly lost his nerve. "Sarah," he began again. "Would ye be willin' to marry me?"

The question came out quiet and unsure and a moment of heavy silence followed.

"Are you finally asking?" Sarah asked.

He took a deep breath. "I am."

She dropped the basket, closing the distance between them, and kissed him deeply.

"Well, do ye?" Pat asked once they parted.

"Of course I do," Sarah replied. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I was half expectin' ye to say no, to be honest," he said.

"Patrick."

"If I were in yer shoes, I'd say no to meself. I don't even have a ring. I would've bought one but I'm out of a job. I suppose I could steal one."

"Wait a moment." Sarah's expression grew serious and she stepped back. "Not like this."

He could almost feel his heart stop. "Are ye changin' yer mind?"

"No, I'm not changing my mind," she said. "But I want you to ask me the right way."

The right way? Pat hesitated as he gathered his thoughts. He didn't know there was a right way or a wrong way to ask someone to marry them and he wasn't sure what Sarah was expecting.

She took his hands and smiled at him.

"Sarah," he started at last. "I don't know why ye'd want to marry me and I don't know if I'd ever understand. But I do know why I'd want to marry ye. Yer the only person who doesn't make me feel alone or like I'm...like there isn't something…" He stumbled over the words. "I suppose I have me fair share of nightmares, but there seems to be less of them when yer next to me. I need ye. Like desperately and I know that's not very romantic and even though it's the honest truth, maybe it's not a good reason to—"

"Pat," she softly cut him off. "You're rambling."

"Sarah, will ye marry me?"

Her answer came without hesitation. "Yes."

He drew her close and held onto her tightly, afraid that if he loosened his grip, she'd vanish into thin air and he'd awake to find it was only a dream.

After a moment, Sarah suddenly laughed. "You need to let me go for now."

He reluctantly loosened her hold. She picked up the fallen basket and pressed it into his arms. "Take this back to the house for me, please?" She asked, her words slightly breathless. "I need to go see Kate."

Pat nodded. "Why?"

"She's going to want to offer me her condolences," Sarah explained. She planted a hasty kiss on his cheek before darting away.


Kate plucked the vibrant beans from the vine, dropping them one by one into her basket. She had been neglecting them for days and now she was in a hurry to get it taken care of before the plants gave up for the season. Every so often, she glanced over to where Tommy sat on the grass, playing with a toy truck. It was hard to believe that he was already two years old. Long gone were the days when she could drop him in his Kiddie-Koop and go about her day. Now, he clung to her like a little shadow, toddling away the instant her back turned.

She frowned as she worked, her thoughts continuously drifting to Sarah. She was happy for her. She knew how badly she had wanted to be married and she, herself, had tried to push her brother toward it. But she couldn't help the flicker of unease that ran through her. She knew Pat. And she knew that he would never intentionally hurt Sarah but his intentions never seemed to matter much when it came down to it. Her brother had never been able to face difficult things, even growing up, and it had only grown worse since the incident. She thought of how he had changed, growing withdrawn, unfriendly, quiet. If anything ever happened, she had no doubt that Pat would bolt once again and the thought of Sarah enduring such pain was unbearable. It was one of the reasons she had encouraged her to push for a quick wedding. She didn't want to give her brother a single chance to back out.

"Perhaps it'll turn out alright," she murmured, giving Tommy a look.

Tommy reached out, offering her the toy truck.

"No, no," Kate said, smiling. "That's yer truck."

"My truck," he agreed, slamming the toy back into the grass.

She was about to turn her attention back to the beans when she caught sight of a man walking around the house, a flower held tight in his hands.

"Mrs. Brandt," the man called out.

Kate smiled. "Mr…" she hesitated as scrambled to remember his last name.

"Hugh," he supplied.

"Hugh," Kate said. Her eyes landed on the flower he was carrying. "Did ye pluck that from in front of me own doorstep?"

He looked at the flower in his hands then back at her. "Guilty," he replied. "I just didn't want to show up empty-handed.

"Why have ye come at all?"

"Well, I am here to teach you how to drive, as promised."

Kate laughed. "It's a kind offer, but I don't really have the time for a drive."

"Oh, but it won't take long."

"Ah, but I've got the garden to tend to and dinner to start before it gets too late. And the windows, they're beggin' for a good washin' if I can manage it before the sun sets." The never-ending list of chores sometimes felt overwhelming. She almost looked forward to the day when Tommy was old enough to help. "And I couldn't just leave Tommy by himself," she added, gesturing to her child.

Tommy looked up at the mention of his name. Kate handed him a green bean which he immediately put into his mouth.

"None of that sounds even remotely important," Hugh pushed on. "I'm sure you have fifteen minutes to go for a drive with me."

"I haven't got fifteen minutes," Kate explained, her voice growing sharper. "I haven't got five minutes."

The smile on Hugh's face faltered and his face seemed to tighten. But after a moment, the smile returned. "Alright then," he said, clapping his hands together. "Are you planting or harvesting?"

"What?" Kate paused with a bean halfway to her basket, her brow furrowed.

"I'm going to help you," he explained.

"I'm picking beans," she said, holding up the bean in her hand. "And I still can't go with ye."

"That's perfectly fine," Hugh replied. "Another day, perhaps."

Another day. Kate couldn't remember the last time she had done something fun that didn't revolve around her brother or Sarah. The thought was a thrilling one. She glanced over at her child. The bean lay forgotten in the grass and he was back to playing with his toy truck.

"How many of these are there?" Hugh asked.

"Hundreds, I'd reckon," Kate said, reaching deep into the plant. "I've been neglectin' it for some time now. Might take weeks to pluck them all. Possibly years."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing we've met," he replied. "You couldn't possibly do all of this on your own."

"No, I suppose not," Kate whispered.

Fall

With the wedding just a month away, Sarah's behavior had taken a strange turn. She became increasingly jumpy and irritable, waking up abruptly in the middle of the night. Several times, she would immediately leave the room whenever Pat entered. None of it made any sense to him.

One afternoon, Pat stepped into the house and immediately noticed Kate standing by the closed bedroom door, concern written on her face.

"Sarah?" Kate knocked softly on the door. "Please open the door."

"What's the matter?"

Kate sighed. "I made a remark about her life beginnin' anew, and she went off the rails and locked herself away in the room."

Pat knocked on the door. "Sarah?" There was no response. "Could ye go down stairs for a while?" He asked his sister.

Kate shrugged. "Perhaps she'd be more willin' to speak to ye than me."

He waited until Kate had gone before knocking on the door once more. "Sarah?" He said through the wood. "Katie's gone and it's only meself here now." He paused, choosing his words with care. "Ye don't need to open the door but I just want to be sure yer alright."

After a moment, the lock turned and the door opened. Sarah glanced at him briefly before returning to her seat on the floor.

Pat sat next to her and looked at her tear-stained face. "Is it John?" He asked.

Sarah nodded and started to cry once again. "I've been dreaming about him lately. Every night."

"Sure, ye have," Pat said. "Why wouldn't he be on yer mind now?"

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "He's always so angry. Said I was betraying him."

"It was only a dream."

She looked at him. "Kate says that Tommy visits her in his dreams."

Pat felt a flicker of annoyance at the thought that Kate had been telling her such things, but he quickly pushed it aside, knowing his sister meant well. "Sarah," he began. He gently brushed away the strands of hair that clung to her wet cheeks. "What was John like?"

"What?"

"I've never met him. What was he like?"

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "He was kind and patient. He never met anyone he didn't like. And most people usually liked him as well. He used to write me such lovely letters, full of the lives we were going to live." She reached over and took Pat's hand. "He was wonderful."

He squeezed her hand gently. "That doesn't sound much like the man ye've been dreamin' about, does it?"

"But it felt so real."

"They always feel real." He thought of his own nightmares that came, not every night but often enough. Always back on the ship, back in the water…each night he would've sworn those were real as well.

"You know," Sarah said softly. "We don't have to do this."

Pat looked at her in surprise.

"I know you don't want to," she continued. "I know you've only asked me because I've been pushing you into it."

"Sarah," he said. "Is that what ye truly believe?"

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do."

"I need to tell ye somethin' and I hope ye won't be angry." Pat looked at her hand in his. "On that day, I had planned to end things between us. I didn't want to bring ye down or ruin yer life, and even now, I'm still a bit scared I might."

"You're not–"

Pat cut her off gently. "But then I saw ye standin' there," he continued, his voice filled with a raw, undeniable truth. "Ye were tangled up in the berry bushes. I…I imagined ye with someone else and I couldn't breathe. It felt like me heart stopped, like I was back in the icy water, clingin' to that boat with no one comin' to save me. That's when I realized that there's nothin' I want more in this world than to be with ye and I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring—a simple silver band engraved with delicate flowers. He stared at it for a moment before holding it out to Sarah. "I know it's nothin' fancy. There's no diamond and it's all I can afford for now. But one day, I'll do better."

Sarah stared at the ring in her hands, speechless.

"Sarah, I love ye more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone."

She looked up at him. "So I'm not forcing you?"

"Not even a little bit." He put an arm around her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. She leaned into him. "So are we still–"

Sarah nodded. "Could you give me a moment alone?"

"Of course," he replied. He kissed her once more before standing up. "Can I let Kate know she needn't be fretting over ye?"

"She won't stop but you can tell her." Sarah stood as well, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. "You're not going to ruin my life, so please stop thinking that."

He wished he could believe it.


Cal hadn't been surprised to learn that Sarah and Pat were getting married. He was only surprised that it had taken so long. From the first moment he saw them together, it was obvious that they were headed in that direction. With Dinah gone on one of her many trips–the children with her–he viewed their wedding as the perfect opportunity to escape his empty house and distract himself from his own worries.

He knocked on Kate's door and was taken aback when Sarah answered. She immediately enveloped him in a warm hug. "It's about time," he said, returning the embrace. "I was starting to think it would never happen."

She nodded. "Me too." She stood aside to let him into the house.

She went back and joined Pat on the sofa who was looking happier than he had ever seen him before. It struck him that it was the first time he had ever seen Pat happy at all.

"So what time is the wedding?" He asked, taking a seat on a nearby chair. The tantalizing smell of Kate's cooking drifted in from the kitchen.

Sarah and Pat exchanged a glance and Sarah responded with a hint of sheepishness. "Yesterday," she said. "We just went and had it done at City Hall."

"Oh," Cal's voice was surprised. He had never known anyone to willingly forgo a traditional wedding. "Well, do you still want your wedding present? Or is it too late for that?"

"You didn't need to get us anything," Sarah said.

"It's far too late for that." Cal leaned back in the chair. "It's the car out front," he casually revealed.

A hushed silence fell upon the group, interrupted only by Tommy toddling over and handing Cal his toy truck. "That's an excellent truck, little man."

"We can't be acceptin' it," Pat said at last.

"Accept it or don't," Cal replied. "It's staying behind when I leave. You can do what you want with it." He handed the truck back to the toddler. "But everyone's going to be driving one within ten years and soon you won't know how you ever did without. Mark my words."

"Cal, I thought I heard yer voice." Kate stood in the doorway, a bowl in her hands, her face beaming with a grin.

"Hi Kate," he said. "It's been a long time."

"Two years, at least," she replied. "Would ye lend me a hand in the kitchen?"

He followed her into the kitchen. A large pot was bubbling away on the stove and a naked cake sat on the counter waiting to be frosted.

"I cannot believe how big Tommy is getting," Cal said. He took the proffered spoon and began to stir the pot. "Last time I saw him, he was just lying on the floor."

Kate laughed. "I nearly be missin' those days. He's mobile now."

"So how are you doing?" He asked her.

"Oh, ye know. Just keepin' meself busy." She picked up a spatula and began to spread frosting on the cake.

He looked at her and frowned. He couldn't help but notice a flicker of something in Kate's expression, a shadow that worried him. "You don't see Sarah very much anymore, do you?"

Kate shrugged. "Well, a bit less, at least," she replied, a hint of melancholy in her voice. "She has Pat now and Tommy is keepin' me on me toes."

"Are they–"

"Clinchin' onto each other because they're both afraid of bein' alone?" She interrupted him. "Without a doubt."

"They seem to love each other."

"Aye," Kate replied. "But if he ever hurts her, I'll be the one to do him in, mark me words."

"And if she hurts him?" Cal asked.

"Ye think that likely?" Kate fell silent, focused intently on smoothing down the frosting. "How are things with Dinah?" She asked, changing the subject. "Any better?"

He shook his head and let out a sigh. "At this point, I'd give up every penny I had to make her leave the children and go away for good." But deep down, he knew that even if he offered her everything, Dinah would remain, determined to torment him for the rest of his days.

"Have ye ever thought of abductin' yer own children and escapin'?"

He laughed. "And where would I go?"

"Ye could come over here," Kate suggested. "Spokane's a lovely city and there's plenty of room." She had finished with the cake and stepped back to admire it.

"That's an idea."

A mischievous grin suddenly spread across her face. "Can I tell ye somethin'?" She asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially and casting a quick glance towards the door.

"Sure."

"There's a fella who's been hangin' 'round here lately."

Cal raised an eyebrow. "Scoping out the place to rob it?" He teased.

Kate playfully smacked him with a towel. "That's not what I meant and ye know it. He works at the mill with Pat."

"Alright, so tell me all about him."

"Don't really know a whole lot about him," she admitted. "But he seems nice. Always offerin' to give me driving lessons and lendin' a hand around the house." She took a moment to carefully fold the towel in her hands. "Don't tell Pat I've said anythin' or Sarah for that matter."

"Why?"

"Pat doesn't like him and I know Sarah would just tell me brother. I don't need him meddlin' in me life like that."

"Why doesn't Pat like him?"

Kate shrugged. "Couldn't rightly say, but there's surely some ill will between the two of them."

"Hm." Cal didn't know Pat very well but he couldn't see the man holding a grudge without a valid reason behind it. The secrecy surrounding the man's visits and the subtle delight on Kate's face only added to his unease.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything," Cal quickly said. He changed the subject. "This smells delicious."

"Cal."

"Just," he hesitated before answering. "Be careful. Don't go rushing into anything with him."

"I don't know what you're implyin'."

"There are worse things than being lonely."

"I'm not feelin' lonely," she spoke sharply.

"Of course not," he replied dryly. "And I have a successful marriage. We are both doing so well for ourselves."

The tension between them hung in the air, unspoken truths lingering beneath the surface. Kate reached for the spoon, nudging Cal aside, as she tried to lighten the mood. "At least I can cook," she said, looking into the pot.

"Who says I can't?"

Kate raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted. "I wouldn't even know how to turn the stove on."


Sarah's favorite moments always came after dinner when everyone gathered in the living room, talking quietly, peaceful and happy. Earlier, Cal had produced several bottles of wine from some mysterious source, leaving everyone in a slightly tipsy state. The Victrola played softly in the corner while the children had been sent off to bed, including John who dozed off and accidentally dropped his plate of cake on the floor. Resting her head on Pat's shoulder, Sarah leaned into his embrace, his arm encircling her tightly. She felt the weariness creeping in but didn't want to admit it.

As time passed, Sarah's eyelids grew heavy, prompting Pat to gently squeeze her hand. She met his gaze and smiled.

"I reckon we're goin' to go," Pat said.

"Do you want a ride?" Cal offered.

Sarah stood and stretched, stifling a yawn. "No, we can walk. It's not that cold out."

They pulled their coats on and said their goodnights before stepping out into the cold night air.

Sarah leaned into Pat, seeking his warmth as they walked, their way illuminated by electric streetlights and their footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves scattered across the ground.

"I'm worried about Kate," Sarah said, breaking the silence.

"Why?" Pat looked at her in surprise. "She seemed fine to me."

She shrugged. "It's probably nothing." Yet, she couldn't help but wonder if she was projecting her own emotions onto Kate, imagining how she would feel if their roles were reversed. "I just wish she lived closer. It's only her and Tommy in that big house."

"And Vera," he reminded her.

"Yes, but have you ever tried to have a conversation with Vera?" Sarah asked. "It's very one-sided and you need a notebook to keep track of all of the men she's currently stringing along." Sarah stopped suddenly. "I just realized that Kate's now my sister." The realization filled her with a profound sense of joy, even though she had always regarded Kate as a sister in her heart.

"I am truly sorry about that, I am."

Sarah laughed and lightly hit him. "Stop that. Kate's my favorite person."

He stepped in front of her and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. "Not me?"

Sarah wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "I can have more than one favorite," she said softly, holding onto him tightly. "You're a different sort of favorite."


Fabrizio walked briskly down the street, flanked by towering buildings that seemed to stretch endlessly. Christmas card vendors and a persistent Santa Claus, ringing his bell nonstop, lined the way. A bitter wind whipped through the air, swirling snowflakes in every direction. Passersby hurried along, all bundled up, their arms filled with packages. But he paid them no heed, solely hoping to reach his destination before he froze to death.

As he walked, he noticed a woman struggling to climb the steps of a brownstone with her arms overloaded with packages. Just as she reached the door, her grip gave way and several items tumbled to the ground, rolling down the steps. She turned around, and to his surprise, he recognized her.

"Lelia!" He called out, his voice cutting through the wintry air.

Her eyes landed on him and she smiled. "I was carrying too much," she admitted.

Without a second thought, Fabrizio helped her regather her items as others walking past stepped over and around them.

"I was doing a bit of Christmas shopping," she admitted, with a trace of laughter in her voice. "I should probably have split it into more than one day though."

He must have made a face without realizing it.

"You don't care for Christmas?" She suddenly asked.

"I like Christmas fine," he replied. "Shopping for it is waste of money."

"Oh." She glanced at the packages in her arms and then at the ones he had collected, and smiled. "I like giving gifts. It shows people that I care."

"You don't need a gift for that," Fabrizio replied. "Just say you care."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you tell people when you care?" She asked.

"Of course I do."

Lelia looked up at him, a soft smile on her face as the snow clung to her hair and eyelashes. Her nose was pink from the cold and she gazed at him expectantly.

Fabrizio held out the last few packages that he had scooped off the ground. "They little wet but I think they should be fine."

Her face fell and she blinked. "Thank you," she said coolly as she took the remaining packages from him. She offered a polite smile. "Merry Christmas anyway." With those words, she turned and went inside.

Fabrizio continued walking, a sense of confusion settling within him. He felt guilty as though he had done something wrong but all he had done was help her pick up her dropped items. He hadn't gone far when the realization struck him. He knew what she had been hoping for and he looked back but she was already gone.