Chapter 28: A Month Later

Mr. Solway monitored the post for the whole village, as most general store owners did. Thankfully, he kept the captain's letter under wraps, while Jamie's words spread like a flood. Acquaintances from as far as two miles away brought pine cones to the farm, and others to the store, in obedience to the cadet's command. They filled five barrels with dead seeds and hoped it wouldn't disrupt the ecosystem. Then again, at the end of summer, the ground was littered with the awful things.

So only Mr. Solway, Hajule, Larmie, and Jamie knew, from her group of family and friends. And apparently the entire Scout regiment, courtesy of Captain Hange. Seventy had bravely marched onto the last mission, and sixty-four returned, including the captain. Mr. Solway subscribed to a Ehmrich newspaper a few months ago, in case the reporters got word of a cadet corps accident or triumph before the government had time to send word to the families. Because of his silence, Edie took up the weekly shopping three weeks after the concealed letter.

"Nothing exciting this week," he announced from the counter, hidden behind the latest issue. "City folk know so many fancy words! And they feel the need to spout them all in every issue. That, or their editors pay by the letter instead of the word." He turned a page as she started browsing. "But I think a village newspaper would do us good, eh? Talking about the latest crops, who's marrying who, deaths and births and stuff, plus dates for town meetings and minutes and things. And maybe we could build a building to house all the old newspapers; we'd really build up a history after only a few years."

"You've been reading too much," Edie told him.

"See, when we were in school, it's all about, 'reading, reading, reading,' because, dammit, we'll have a literate end-of-earth society if it's the last thing we do. But then, when you're grown, there's only so many books you can read, and they're all rotting for the mind, and all the newspapers are wordy garbage with useful information every three months."

"Would you like me to write to you?" She joked. "It won't be interesting, but at least it won't be verbose."

Mr. Solway waved his hand and put down the paper. "Speaking of letters." He leaned across the counter and scanned the store, but no other patrons were to be seen. "Any news?"

"Why do you think I'm here instead of Hajule?"

"A man can hope that your mother is making her famous zucchini bread."

"We haven't had enough sugar for a good batch." Edie turned away from the door, to reduce the danger of someone reading her lips. "He's coming to the farm in an hour or so. We're going to some village that has a sunflower field."

"Oh, I have a cousin who lives there! She and her husband run some weaving business and supply baskets and such to the area. Actually," he rummaged behind the counter and pulled out a flat basket with an intricate handle. The weaving looked like little daisies with a thin stem. "Look at her handiwork here. She said she had to stare at the real thing for four days before the pattern came to her. But she was really pregnant at the time and was supposed to be resting, anyway, so what are you going to do? She was always a bit of a mystic." He put the basket away and clasped his hands on the counter. "So, do you like him?"

"I…do."

"And he sends you love letters?"

"It was more of a quality news report, with a kind note at the end of it." She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the page. "It read, 'Returning means I get to see you again,' or something like that."

Mr. Solway crossed his arms. "First Jamie leaves us, and soon you'll be married and living in Sina or somewhere. Whatever will us three old birds do with ourselves?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I never got married myself, but most couples I knew were engaged with a flick of the wrist. You hear about two people going out, then three or four months later, they're exchanging vows and moving in together. Take your parents, for instance. We were all at that party together, and sure, I saw Larmie make his move on your mother, but how could I have predicted that two months later, I'd be giving my Best Man speech in a candlelit barn?"

Edie blinked. "T—two months?"

"And still desperately in love. 'Course, after that, the famine and worker shortage set in, which is why it took them so long to get around to Jamie. But you know the rest."

"It's, uh…that's the norm, then?"

"In my experience, yes." Mr. Solway scratched his beard. "But these military men have to calculate everything before they make a move."

"And the captain's on missions so often, it's really like we've only known each other for a few weeks. The middle time can't count," she reasoned. "Besides, I don't think he really likes me. He didn't even want his squad to know we'd gone out."

"His loss."

The moment she got home, Edie locked herself in her bedroom and began cycling through all her dresses, skirts, tops, accessories, and shoes. An aimless pursuit, for she hadn't nailed down the impression she wanted to give. Surely the captain wasn't a two-month, or even four-month dater before marriage kind of guy. But if the Commander was right in his assessment, that the captain hadn't asked anyone out in years, then she'd have to be bold in her refusal. "But what makes a guy want to break things off?" She muttered. "Aside from falling asleep on the first date."

Longsuffering must, regrettably, be one of his character traits.

All the dresses were too fancy and nice, looking like she was going to a dinner theater show or with someone who liked to talk about themselves. Those kind of men always needed someone stunning by their side, or no one would pay attention. All the work outfits didn't look nice enough. They weren't populated with stains, just usual wear and tear, and the farmgirl persona wasn't repulsive; it only inspired pity. She settled on a collared shirt, tweed vest, a navy blue tie from Larmie's collection (Jamie wasn't very creative in gift-giving), and a skirt a half shade darker than the vest, having been worn and washed more. they were the ones used for local birthday parties, southern vacations, and family dinners. Looking in the small mirror hanging next to the curtained window, Edie wished she needed glasses. It would really complete the weathered librarian look. But the hair would really sell the look, and Hajule would surely come find her and tie it back in some straightlaced fashion.

Ten minutes passed, and no one arrived. She picked up one of Jamie's own books, left behind as he packed the night before. It was a book of fairy tales, the ones that were published just a few years ago commercially but based on old stories that every person seemed to be born with. She turned to one of the ones about the brother and sister trapped in a witch's house, using their wits to escape. She studied the illustrations in the early afternoon light, drawing back the curtain a bit to let sunlight draw shadows on the witch and orange on the siblings. The artist carefully positioned them with diagonal lines, confining the evil to the back of the house, to the flaming cauldron, and the children to the bright entrance. More light only exemplified the difference between both groups, showing how the witch had spell-books and cooking oil in her belongings and how the children had outlines of wings and halos, not to mention confident smiles and heroic stances. The diagonal lines left a third empty space, though, where the shadows fought and symbolism ceased.

A knock at the door startled the serenity, and once again, it just looked like a flat children's illustration.

"Edie, honey?" Larmie called from the closed door. "Are you accepting company?"

"Sure, I'm dressed." Her father entered meekly, holding a bundle of little daisies. "Since the lavender didn't go so well, I figured we'd see if the daisies send him reeling."

"Thanks, but…" She fluffed her undone hair. "Hajule must be held up with her work. You know how she likes to stare at the horizon for a while."

"Oh, the captain's outside. She's been talking at him on the porch for half an hour."

"Why—she's been—I've just been waiting in here!" Edie tied a few hairs together and scrunched the rest. "At least he knows what he's getting into."

"At least. Although, in my experience, men who talk for that long with your mother tend to stick around."

"So I've heard."

Larmie didn't need to tilt her head back or stand on his tiptoes; he stood a whole foot above her. He braided a strand on each side of her temple, then met them on the back of her head and joined the weave. "Hajule has a way of throwing herself into whatever she's doing. Taking care of the farm, taking care of me, taking care of Jamie. She used to let herself fall into disrepair because of it; it was her way of loving. Which is why I learned to braid hair." He broke the flowers off the stem and gently stuck the flowers between strands. "She used to complain, ceaselessly, about how it was in her face and that it was tangled when she woke up, but she fell asleep so soundly after dinner most nights and didn't have the strength to braid it. So I got in the habit of turning her no one side, making a simple braid, and reading that morning's paper."

Edie reached to her back and felt the braid. "This is a fishtail."

"Well, I don't like being mediocre."

"Did she notice right away?"

"For a few years, she thought she'd just done it before falling asleep." He chuckled. "But I didn't mind. She was happy, and had time on her hands, and hummed while she worked. Some days, the same braid stayed from morning till dusk."

"What was it like when she found out?"

"It was my fault. We were on one of our rare vacations, visiting Karmen and Lana, resting on the porch in each other's arms. We were both reading at the start, but she mentioned that the mountain wind was so much stronger, and her hair kept flying into her mouth. I just put down my book, undid her style, and re-braided it. Once the hair was firmly done and back over her shoulder, I remember her grabbing my hand and gasping. That was a euphoric evening."

Edie turned and admired the style down her back. "Forget the captain, then. I like it."

"I hoped you would." Larmie put a hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "You deserve someone who will do things for you without you asking, without you looking, without needing any kind of recognition or praise, understand? And I will not give any blessing unless he is."

"Hopefully, it won't come to that."

"Hopefully not."

The two walked arm in arm to the patio, Hajule's voice getting louder and louder. She was talking about soil quality and invasive species from Wall Maria refugees, they thought, but then there was a mention of schools in the area and Mr. Emerson's newly announced retirement. But the captain kept his eyes fixed, nodding along, only interrupting to ask a question or offer a brief opinion. They hardly noticed the audience.

His was an afternoon outfit, if Edie had ever seen one. He had on a black jacket again, but a different one with a casual, open cut. A collarless ivory shirt loosened around his throat but tucked neatly into black pants. He wore shiny boots instead of dress shoes, ready for a walk through a sunflower field. Edie stayed hooked onto Larmie as Hajule tired herself out.

"…so Mrs. Coney insisted on hosting the retirement party for that poor man, and all the children he's taught these past few decades are invited to celebrate him. Unfortunately, he taught some of them too well, and they can't get away from important government jobs in the city. But my argument is that if the government is so important, why don't they value the people running it? Same with the farms, the schools, the businesses, all of it. You're well acquainted with shortages, I'm sure."

"Regrettably."

"It's how it goes." Hajule lifted her hand to her daughter with a bright smile. "There you are! You took quite a while getting ready."

"I wasn't aware the captain had arrived," Edie explained. "Larmie told me. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting."

"Good, good."

The captain turned and held out his hand, helping her down the patio steps. "No need. I was entertained."

"You'll have to come to Mr. Emerson's party, to see what I mean about his manner of speaking and instruction. Of course, Larmie and Edie don't know him too well, so they can't confirm."

"Mr. Emerson taught you?"

"Yes, dear." Hajule put a few hairs in place, as the wind reared its head. "He's an old, old man. I can't say I made things easy for him when I was Jamie's age. Luckily, my parents had the wherewithal and wisdom that I now possess."

"Speaking of wisdom, dear, could you remind me how to loop my dinner tie? I'm getting the thing all mixed up again." Larmie took her hand gently and turned toward the house.

"Of course, of course, you and that…tie." She titled her head a bit but followed her husband back to the door, continuing her explanation even after the house shut.

Edie turned to her date with a burrowed smile. "Really, I'm sorry for not coming out sooner. I really didn't know you had arrived."

"I wasn't in any hurry. Your mother is excellent company."

"She is." They boarded his horse and rode at a decent pace, away from Sina. "How was your mission?"

"Decent." He shifted forward, and she leaned into the saddle. "Our objective was to study an abnormal that's been scouring the area. Although it wasn't able to climb over the walls, Hange had a theory that it might be intelligent."

"Was it?"

"Hardly. It died like all the rest. But after the Colossal and Armored titans' attack, we can't be too careful with differences. This one was taller, nearly thirty meters, had a different call, and moved like a patrol unit."

"Did it stand upright, or crawl?"

"Upright. Some fifteen and ten meter classes gathered around it, which is why we suffered casualties. On the second afternoon, a group ambushed Captain Gingham's squad. His whole group was killed, aside from himself and one new recruit."

"Is that common?"

"It's sporadic, but experienced Scouts tend to survive."

"Mm." Her eyes stayed low. "Did Hange get something out of it, at least?"

"Her theory was disproven. According to reports, the Armored Titan reacted to the desolation around it. The Colossal stayed at its spot on the other side of the wall, just serving to break Shiganshina's outer defense. But the Armored broke through houses and especially brave Garrison troops to get to the inner gate. Most survivors agree that he paused between parries, looking at corpses

"What did it look like?"

"Only fifteen meters tall, and covered in tan plates of armor. None broke off, and it disappeared after the usual titans got into Maria. Some say it had a mess of blonde hair on top, like it was bleached." He raised his head suddenly. "Its eyes glowed yellow, and it moved…slower, but tactfully. It's no lie—they knew what they were doing." He turned a little and took a deep breath. "Did word not get out to rural areas?"

"Not in detail."

"Why the sudden interest?"

Edie pressed her lips together and rested her forehead on his back. "It's…useless."

The captain waited.

"They weren't caught, were they? The intelligent titans, I mean."

"No."

"So, they could come back?"

"We expect so. The Military Police assembled squads at each gutting city to be ready for an attack. We don't know anything about where they came from or where they went, much less their nature. Of course, people have theories, but that won't amount to much in another surprise attack. And most of the people who witnessed those titans were eaten or sacrificed."

"Those squads don't have titan experience." The wind lifted her braid, but the flowers lay firm. "It'll the Scouts who end up fighting them, won't it?"

"Likely."

"They killed everyone in their path."

"We won't be completely surprised, if they strike again," the captain assured her. "And Jamie's being trained right now by people who know that."

"I know. That's why it's useless to worry about." She lifted her head and smoothed her skirt. "Thank you. And sorry to ask about work now. You probably don't want to think about it."

"Actually, it's…nice. Captains and commanders are typically isolated from usual activities, even in their own squad. It feels almost relaxing to let it out."

"Anytime. So, how long until sunflowers? And I never got her name."

"Who?"

"Your mare."

"Rivaille."

"That's fun to say." She stroked its side. "Hello, Rivaille. Where'd that come from?"

"A mural we found outside the walls, before Maria fell. Honestly, everyone else was giving me a hard time for not giving her a name, and that was good enough. As for sunflowers," he steered Rivaille to the right, down a rocky dirt road, "after dinner, when twilight sets in. We'll be at the village in fifteen minutes or so."

"Fine, fine."

"So." He wrapped the reins tightly around his hand; his head turned with a half-smile. "What's your opinion…on reincarnation?"

"What?"

His ears were turning pink fast. "Yeah…"

"Who came up with that one?"

"It wasn't necessarily a…" He sighed. "Petra."

Edie burst out laughing again. "That's, uh…like, is it a thing, how common is it, what is—wait, is this the same squad member who wondered about grass having souls?"

"No, that was Gunther. He's…questioning, but a decent explosives expert. He and Eld grew up together, and it's a wonder they didn't get each other killed even before the Survey Corps."

"As in, accidents, or just ticking people off?"

"Both." He rubbed his hand on his face.

"No wonder they refused to sleep. So many exciting topics to discuss."

"They're spirited."

"They had good childhoods, is what it is." She shook her head. "Well, since it was such a riveting question, I suppose that I don't think reincarnation is real. People would be a lot wiser if it was."

"Hmm."

"I can't stop picturing the stoic captain surrounded by his sleep deprived squad, giving awful dating advice."

"They've got more experience than I do, and some are a whole decade younger," he grimaced.

"Not all experience is good experience, especially if it's the same lesson over and over. Besides, relationships when you're a teenager aren't really…you know, real. You don't know any better."

"Would you know?"

Edie shrugged. "Not really, I guess. Just an observation." She leaned over his right shoulder. "So, what's your opinion on reincarnation?"

"Good god."

The village was quaint, filled with red shingled roofs and some with grass growing on top. Edie wondered if it was out of laziness or aesthetic, but from her point of view, it was hard to see either way. She spotted other couples mingling around, speaking in low hushed voices, but the streets weren't nearly as crowded as Ehmrich. They walked side by side, his hands still clasped behind his back, and hers in her skirt pockets. The barn was a decent walk from the restaurant, but beauty filled the village. Murals decorated sides of houses, and a three-piece band played upbeat dances. Some drunk men on a terrace gave scathing reviews of a bar across the street, which apparently wouldn't let them in on account of mounting tabs (their words were clean enough, so some passersbys chuckled and threw coins). A few stores stayed open late, but most owners closed their shutters and brought in sidewalk seating, waving to visitors and neighbors alike. Some children kicked a ball around in the street, using rules neither the captain nor Edie knew, but a betting pool ran on the other side of the street. And with every passing specter, every grin and beautiful face, every elderly man and woman seeing the effects of youth, Edie beamed and made comment. She'd grown used to her village, which she'd rarely visited in the evening (given an early bedtime), and hadn't really seen how happy people could be. They danced, sang, shouted, and really rioted when something interrupted that happiness. It was so vibrant, so alive. Even the people who were annoyed at something or another seemed to be filled with a rapturous feeling that didn't let them stay that way for long. But in the middle of all that, in the middle of the captain relaying another ridiculous thing one of his squad members did, an outline of those intelligent titans formed. The height, yes, and the plates, yes, but the hair, that blonde hair. There were some in this crowd with blonde hair—many, in fact. They said it appeared out of nowhere, with no command or warning, and hundreds of thousands died.

This can all be gone in an instant.

"Edie?" The captain touched her arm, concern knitted in his brows. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, just—yes, I'm perfect." They'd stopped at an entrance again, this one without a swinging sign. They stepped inside, found a table, and paused conversation to stare at menus again. She set her eyes on another soup, this one a butternut squash with fresh knotted bread, and put down the text. She gripped her hands under the table. "You seem really close with your squad."

"We have to be." He picked up the drink menu and frowned when it was nothing but alcohol. "We keep each other safe."

"I'm glad for that."

He studied her face again. "Something's bothering you."

She shook her head. "I read your points on eccentricity. Analyzed them, really."

The captain leaned back, his eyes alive. "Oh?"

"But I'd like a clarification as to how sleep deprivation equals being grounded in reality. Does the Cadet Corps encourage such habits, or just your commander?"

"The Cadet Corps," he answered quickly, "but the Scouts take it to heart. Once your body's trained to move on command, it hardly matters how tired you are. Besides, it's second nature now to fight without thinking, without even knowing what you're doing or who the opponent is. There's plenty of time to reconsider if you're the winner."

"So the Commander isn't the eccentric one: the military is."

His head dropped with a laugh. "You've analyzed my arguments?"

"You were right about sleep deprivation. I don't remember a word of that conversation. But, rest assured, I have my memory and all senses about me this time."

"Very well." He looked pleased with himself. "Let's hear it."

Edie smoothed the tablecloth. "These opinions hereafter are based on only two observations of the Commander, both of which were quite informative. His behavior at Corini and Tinnul's wedding, and his interactions with Jamie and his friends at his going away party two months prior. I won't include any of his escapades, all those publicity stunts, because Jamie sees your Commander in rose colored glasses."

"But of course."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, her stomach twisting up at his pleased gaze. "At the wedding, the Commander was focused on political gain, as can only be expected of an event catered by noble families and the military police. So I shan't fault him for that. But his use of my younger brother was quite…uncivilized, given that he wasn't paid for his labor, nor his lovely face or sacrifices

"Your dislike is due to financial compensation."

"Surely the Scouts employ a public relations team?"

The captain shrugged. "Not at the moment."

"Well, Jamie would be excellent for the position. He's a handsome, charismatic man himself, with hundreds of soldiers at his command. Surely one of the younger, gifted recruits could fill in for an untrained boy who's enjoying family time before his training. All in all, the impression is one of disconnectedness from the world."

"Erwin doesn't have a family," her opponent reasoned.

"Do all his compatriots lack mothers, fathers, siblings, cousins, and the such?"

He stared for a moment, fixed. "Not all."

"Very well, then. Surely he does not wonder where his recruits go off to on holidays, he just doesn't value that time."

"A scathing review."

"Just a response."

"And of your second impression…?"

She frowned. He still had that stupid grin on his face. "At Jamie's going-away party, your Commander had a crowd of twenty young boys hanging onto his every word, now considering a future in the military instead of the careers they've been working toward for who knows how many years."

"Well, if they're young boys, then perhaps one or two?"

"Not the point." She wanted to punch his shoulder, but unfortunately, he sat three feet away. "The military shouldn't be something to sell, but an honor, something your family can be proud of. If your Commander needs to spend his evenings socializing to ensure there's another generation of soldiers to fill his ranks, then perhaps the military is a dying art."

"What would you suggest instead?"

Edie shrugged. "Well, not every man for himself."

"So, what then?"

"You're making fun of me."

"No, no, it's just…strange, to hear such an assessment."

"You wouldn't expect it?"

"Not from you. Jamie agreed to join the Scouts before he met Erwin, after all."

"Well, Erwin should rely on the zeal of mankind and dignity of generations to improve the Scouts' reputation. It's not his fault the titans have a human diet; he just plans how often you all march beyond the front lines."

"He has some quotas to fill."

She flushed. "You are teasing me, and this is not fair because nothing I say will change your mind. The same as Jamie, you're predisposed to think everything your commander do is excellent and amazing and all."

"Point taken, and they were valid points." The captain was having a wonderful time. "For the record, though, Erwin has many flaws which are…apparent. He's a devil, to be sure, but he does care for his soldiers, deeply."

"At the end of the day?"

"Yes, at the…very end of the day."

"You're enjoying this too much."

"A bit."

The captain dropped it after a few more remarks, which he took gracefully, thereafter not mentioning that she ate soup a lot, ordered jasmine tea again, and hadn't brought an evening jacket. The latter detail wouldn't have mattered if they had left the restaurant on time, but twilight came and went without either noticing. Six pots of tea later, the two made their way to the door and supposedly to the sunflower field, greeted by candlelit streets and even more drunk, overjoyed men. A few questions later confirmed that the field was still open, but what a strange time to go picking flowers. They crossed the busier streets again. Edie felt a warmth in her chest, not much against the freezing exterior. Summer was quickly ending, here more than ever. She shivered enough that when the captain offered his jacket, she didn't refuse.

"The finest blooms in all of Wall Rose! So they say Sina has finer growers, well, they're not cultivated with love for nature, just love of money!" The grower clasped his hands together. "Are you familiar with full blooms?"

"I am."

"Excellent, excellent."

The captain took out his wallet and counted out the money. "A full dozen, if you please."

"I do, sir! Thank you!"

Edie surveyed the field, still shaking. "Would it be possible to take some roots of the dying plants? I used to use this blend that practically cured an inflamed throat."

"Ah, a brewer, are you?" The elderly man waved his hand and gave her a burlap bundle. "Why don't you come to the field with me, then, and you can choose your flowers along with a healthy plant to take home, eh? No extra charge, of course. It's so rare to meet a fellow horticulturist."

The two left the captain to sip his tea and not dirty his boots, or rather, to humor a young boy who'd just said his name in a shaky unbelieving voice. Edie watched him for a moment, smiling at his discomfort, as he signed the boy's schoolbook and answered a few questions. Their voices faded as the field consumed her, and only a thin path back to the mainland remained.

"Are you familiar with the upside-down fertilizer process, then?"

Edie nodded. "We use that at my family's farm for the underground vegetables. Although we don't bother much with lettuce and cabbages. Father found they tasted worst."

"Your family's farm…" The man scratched his beard and suddenly snapped. "You live on the Cartwell farm?"

"You know it?"

"Know it? If that's your family's farm, then you must be Edie Cartwell!"

She pressed her lips together. "You…know me."

"Know you? You saved our whole countryside from that blasted titan six months ago! I can't tell you what it meant for us to hear that brute was taken down. We saw it appear just south of here—don't' know how it missed our village, just glad it did—and hardly had the wherewithal to contact the authorities! Thank you, oh, thank you. I'll give your beau back his money. We owe it to you. Incredible, that Edie Cartwell comes to my farm, of all places! Ha, ha!"

She grimaced but tried to put on a happy face. While the old farmer prattled on about farming and safety and the glory of the walls, her eyes turned back to the mainland. The captain was mostly in the same spot she left him, but the charming child had left him, replaced by two charming ladies. Her fingers still wrapped around a chosen stem, she watched them for a while. Both were at eye level with him, both set in flirtatious statures, curling their hair around their fingers and smiling demurely. He didn't look uncomfortable anymore, like she'd left him. One of them seemed especially interested, with the way she pushed his shoulder and leaned in, while the other paid loud compliments nearly heard from a hundred meters away. Edie wanted to finish her work, but it was intoxicating. The captain looked happy, joyful, really: different that he had when she'd insulted his commanding officer and best friend. Oh, well, she told herself, it's better for it to end while he's happy. That's the best solution for everyone. A sort of solitude bubbled up to her shoulders, and a heaviness softened her gaze. When suddenly, his eyes raised, and she darted away, blinking hard.

"…rain has been scarce as of late. We don't know much about the titans, sure, but my theory is that they have a certain control over the elements. We never had this trouble before those blasted intelligent titans broke through Wall Maria. And you could argue that it's due to more citizens living in a confined space, but I think that the titans being nearer to us, even that much, causes changes in the atmosphere and affects our…very livelihood…as it goes." The farmer cleared his throat. "Help yourself to anything, Miss Cartwell. And as for you, sir, thank you, for all you've done."

Edie looked over her shoulder, enough to see the farmer press all of the captain's money back into his hand. The captain put it back in his pocket, took out a knife, and began choosing delicate, full-bloomed flowers. "Is it personal, what's upsetting you?"

"It's nothing to get upset over. You're a handsome man, and you attract plenty of attention."

"Not…that." He looked at his shoes. "Although it occurs more often than I'd like."

"You have a preference?"

"Yes. Not at all."

Edie gave him a look. "You can flirt with whomever you like. We don't have any covenant together."

"Mm."

"This one," she declared, choosing a plant for future tea. "The others will die, but if I'm careful with it, this one will provide tea for the whole village."

"Have you dated anyone before?"

Edie nearly fell over. The words felt like a push to the ground. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just pondering."

"Well." She started pushing the dirt away from her chosen plant, navigating its root system. "I thought we agreed to let the past die."

"This is the only time I will encroach on that agreement. You have my word."

She continued carving out the plant, for nearly a minute of quiet, pausing at times to stare up at the stars. He wasn't heaving or sighing deeply, just rustling through the flowers with an occasional saw at the stem. Good thing military men always carry a pocket knife. The plant finally came loose. She wrapped the dirt in the burlap and sat cross-legged next to it. "I've only ever been sure that one person truly loved me. She…was just someone who was around. Her name was Selena. She made sure I had eaten something that day, that I had somewhere to sleep, that I didn't have anything on my mind, and if any of those questions were answered poorly, she took care of it. I never knew my birth mother or my father, but it didn't hurt as much, because she was looking out for me." Her mouth dried all of a sudden, and she paused to swallow saliva. "I had already gone out with Alister for two months before I told her, mostly because I hadn't been around, and after listening to two minutes about him, she told me break it off before he broke me. Not broke my heart, but broke me. I felt awkward about it and said I could handle myself, and him, and that he really liked me."

The captain paused his work and sat across from her. He waited quite a while, longer than a pause should've been. "And?"

"There wasn't much else. Four months later, I found out she couldn't have been more right. He was…a psychopath. I think I was fourteen then, and…yeah, that's been it."

"But you're…incandescent."

Edie shook her head, not finding the right words.

"I don't believe that no one has asked you out in twelve years."

"Of course they have. But…god, there's not much point in trying. They'll end up disappointed in me, and…happiness doesn't last. Why add any more names to the roster?"

"Perhaps one good reason is because they think you're incredible, and even when they close their eyes to sleep, you're the only thing they can picture?"

She considered it with a head nod. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"So, have I made the list?"

"Hmm?" She blinked, realizing his meaning. "Oh."

The captain diverted his attention to his muddy hands. "This is—not the proper place, I—"

"Captain, I am not the kind of girl you should—"

"It's Levi."

"—that you should be with."

"I think I should decide that."

"I can tell you now, it's…you'll be disappointed."

"I think I can decide that, too."

He took her hands.

"You're irreplaceable in my mind right now, Miss Cartwell. I want to find out why."

"What are you asking?"

"I'd…I want to be your beau." He sighed at himself. "Your boyfriend. Exclusively."

"Captain—"

"Levi."

Edie closed her eyes for a moment. "Levi. I'm sorry to be a pessimist, but I don't think this will end well."

"Ah." He swallowed. "I see."

She was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, she was right, and more and more right.

But still.

She put her hand under his chin and lifted his eyes.

"I…suppose you can decide that for yourself."