Disclaimer: They are not mine, they are NOT mine, they are SO not mine! Sigh.
Dedication: This story is dedicated to Lady T for filling in for me, for putting up with my oddities and for going above and beyond the call of duty. The girl is a saint! ; )
Yes, I should start at the beginning -- which would be the first day I saw him. I was walking downtown. I had spent the afternoon shopping for a new hat and shoes to match my dark green satin dress, but that is of no importance to the story.
There was a rather large group of men, most of whom I recognized, standing just outside the entrance of the Town Hall. I noticed that, just as I passed by and looked up, they immediately hushed their voices and nearly quit talking altogether. Mr. Bradford looked especially embarrassed, as he fidgeted continuously with a small string on his left pant-leg.
The whole scene was not so unusual or bothersome to me, as I have found that people enjoy fussing over and discussing to no end the "imagined" trials and tribulations of the only 19 year old widow they know. Living in a small town has its advantages, but also its disadvantages, as one is rarely beyond the watchful eyes of curious friends and neighbors. It has become a common thing for me to find myself the topic of many a worried conversation.
As usual, I made it a point to smile bravely at them and as I stood up straight and confidently... it was then that my eyes met his. He was leaning back against the dark brick wall of the building, his arms crossed casually in front of him, and he was looking directly at me -- More to the point, he seemed to be looking right THROUGH me.
His eyes were the darkest pitch black I have ever seen and the way that he looked at me made me blush like a child. He moved his eyes slowly and seductively over my entire body before he inclined his head slightly to me and winked. I nodded quickly in reply, my face on fire I'm certain, and left abruptly as I feared the sudden constricting tightness of my corset might cause me to faint right there in the street. I'm sure I looked a complete fool and wished to spare myself further embarrassment!
I made my way home as fast as I could, my mind reeling with a million emotions and questions at once. I wondered who he was, what had they told him about me? Did he know I was a widow and was that why he'd looked at me the way he did?
Not that I minded, in fact, to my surprise I had quite enjoyed it. The look he had given me had made me feel beautiful for the first time in almost a year.
In the past, I have heard it stated that I was a woman of rare beauty. I believed it once, but in the eight months since Jonathan died, my appearance had changed. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the tired, hollow eyes of an old woman in the gaunt face of a young girl -- I was a woman who has seen too much pain in too little time.
And, yes, I have grieved since Jonathan's death. I am aware that many believe that ours was a marriage based purely on convenience. Jonathan was older than I, and when I was left alone in the world at the early age of seventeen, people assumed that he pitied me and I simply needed him.
I agree that there is something to that, but we did love each other, in our own way. He was a good and devoted man who cared for me above himself, and I tried to repay him in kind.
His illness came on so quickly we barely had time to get used to the idea before he was gone. Then I found myself alone. Jonathan had taken over my family's business upon the death of my parents and had run it well. He had profit margins growing and had it running more efficiently. He had tried to show me how to take it over, but there was so little time and he was just too ill.
Eventually he placed it in the hands of his foreman, Silas Hamilton, and although I'm not particularly fond of the man, it was a great relief to me as it made it possible for me to take care of Jonathan. He appreciated that, and we grew much closer in the end than we had been previously. We were married for less than 1 year. I miss him very much, and I'm certain that I did love him.
Well, I have left the subject at hand and I apologize. I fear that I have become rather defensive.
I thought about the young man I had seen many times, but I did not see him again for several weeks. I was at a town meeting, the topic for the evening had been the condition of the city's streets and, although I could linger on that topic for many a page, I will spare you that, as it has nothing whatsoever to do with this story.
I was sitting with friends, completely unaware that he was in the room. The debate had been heated and people were talking loudly all around the room.
Something caught my attention and, suddenly, there he was, leaning against the wall at the opposite end of the Hall. Again, he was looking directly at me and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. For an eternity it seemed as if the entire room had gone completely silent and every other person had been frozen in that moment in time.
I still have no recollection how long I was held captive by his dark and beautiful eyes. Eventually, a man walked between us, the meeting had ended and I lost sight of him in the crowd of people taking their leave. I searched the crowd for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
X~O~X
Logan put the book down gently and took a cigar, a lighter and an ashtray out of the desk. He lit the cigar, took a long drag and picked up the book. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs out and placed them on the desk, one over the other. He adjusted the light behind his head and opened the book again.
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