Gift

On the table in front of Roland was a compact stationary box containing paper, a pen, extra ink, and wax for seals. He practically glowed at Finn, basking in this indication that she was enjoying his letters and wanted to receive more.

"Do... do you like it?" Finn asked tentatively. It could be seen as a fairly self-serving gift and she wasn't sure whether it was the correct present to give him. But with how much he had written to her already, he must be running low on such supplies and she thought it good to replenish them.

"It's wonderful. Thank you, Serafina." His blue eyes shined at her in a way that made everyone else in the room smother their chuckles.

Dr. Sherman slapped his knees with both hands, "I have to say, it's been a hard day and it's past my bedtime. These long hours have been hard on my old bones, and apparently I'm becoming a stand-in father again tomorrow. I need some rest."

"I'll join you, Dear," Mrs. Sherman agreed tiredly, "It'll take some work in the morning to get the house ready for a child."

Mayra yawned in an exaggerated way that made Finn give her a sharp look. "I think I'll head to bed too. I'm sure you'll come soon, Finn, but no hurry." Finn's sharp look turned into a glare that made Mayra duck her head in shame as she left. She remembered talking with Riley about not interfering anymore, but surely leaving the room was the *opposite* of interfering, wasn't it?

Finn smiled in apology, "I'm sorry about Mayra, she's something else."

Roland shrugged it off. He was slowly getting used to Mayra's mischievous ways, and right now he didn't mind at all.

"Thank you again," He said softly. They sat down at the table after having stood when Mayra and the others had left.

"It was no trouble, just a little birthday gift. Happy Birthday," She stared down at her hands clasped in front of her, wondering briefly what kept her from just going to bed now in the room she shared with Mayra. Despite her long day, she wasn't the least bit tired.

"Not just for that. You looked after the orphans and found one that needed help getting away from bullies. You're doing something about it. I appreciate that. A lot." He tentatively reached over to take one of her hands.

She turned it palm up to let him hold it, and his heart jumped.

"She's a sweet little girl, and I want to help her. I may not have been raised as an orphan, but I've done without a mother for over six years now. It's no easy thing." Her vision misted over as she wondered whether she might be an orphan now.

"How did she die?" Roland asked gently. He didn't think she'd said before.

"Giving birth to Gabe." She remembered the night vividly, assisting as Amelia midwifed through the process and her father waited anxiously outside. Gabe was born well and healthy, but the bleeding never stopped and her mother faded away as eleven year old Finn held her new little brother in her arms.

"I'm sorry," He offered.

"What happened to your parents? You never told me the story of how you became a street urchin."

Roland gave a forced half-laugh, "You're right, I didn't. I don't remember my parents at all. I remember my aunt taking care of me when I was little. I think we moved to Klain from somewhere else, but all my memories are from here.

"She passed away from a terrible disease in the poorer part of the city when I was around six. I was taken to the orphanage, but the illness was causing overcrowding there as people died and left children behind. The couple taking care of us meant well, but weren't equipped to handle so many.

"I ran away and lived on the streets for about two years when the illness hit again, but much harder. I heard that Dr. Sherman could help and was kind, so I began helping sick kids from the street to get to him. It was after that he took me as an apprentice."

Finn squeezed his hand as he recounted the difficult story. She sensed there was a lot more under the surface, but didn't want to pry into the hurt.

"What was your aunt like?" She chose a happier part of the story to focus on.

Roland smiled. "Aunt Beatrice was cautious and kind. She always took time to help others if she could, and made sure I had what I needed, even giving up her dinner for me when there wasn't enough. All I have left from her is a necklace that she said belonged to my mother, the only thing she was too sentimental to sell."

It was in his room now, having come back to the house with his nice clothes when he had everything sent from the registration office. He would be relieved to put it on again. The small, carved leaf was almost as much a part of him as his own body, and without it he tended to suffer from nightmares.

They were silent for a moment as they stared at each other. Roland felt the tension stretch between them and swallowed. He wanted to act on it, to kiss her and tell her how he felt. Would that frighten her? He looked down at their joined hands, and stroked the back of hers with the pad of his thumb. She shivered, and he frowned.

"I'm keeping you awake, and the air is getting cold. I'm sorry. It's ungentlemanly." He stood, letting go of her hand as he did so.

"Oh, no, it's quite all right," Finn stood also despite her words. "Although, I probably should go. You said you'd deliver a letter to Riley for me and I haven't even written one yet."

The mention of the other man's name deflated Roland further. "What will you say to him?" He cringed at how impolite the question was. What a thing, to pry into a young woman's correspondence!

He had never considered himself a jealous man, but feeling Finn's hand in his seemed to have awakened something possessive in him.

"I'm not sure," She admitted. She had very little time to figure it out. "I'm not experienced at letter writing, and I'm not sure what he expects. Honestly, yours are the first letters I've ever received, so I have no other example." She should probably read Riley's two letters before she wrote him back.

"Just write to him about what you would talk to him about." Why was Roland giving her advice about this? He really should keep his mouth shut.

"But you don't write the way you speak to me," She tilted her head. Letter writing and conversation seemed like entirely different things to her.

"I might speak like that if I weren't afraid you'd run away from me," He admitted, one corner of his mouth tilting up with chagrin.

"What do you mean?" Finn swallowed and blinked.

He stepped towards her and reached forward to tug at one of her hands, drawing her closer. He held her hand in both of his.

"If I weren't afraid you'd run," He kissed her knuckles gently, "I'd tell you some of the things I write about, and more." Finn's head began to spin and her breathing became more rapid to try to compensate for her dizziness. "I'd tell you how every time I look at you, I feel different: courageous, yet anxious. Like I'm home, even when it's far away. I'd tell you how when you leave me, I feel like part of me is being ripped away and taken with you. I'd tell you about the dream growing in my heart that one day I'll ask you to marry me, and you'll agree." Finn forgot to breathe altogether for a few moments.

"But, I can't tell you any of that," He smiled sadly, lowering her hand as he stared at it, "because I'm terrified that you'll flee from me like you did in the camp that day. That you'll run and I won't catch up, and you'll never speak to me again." He looked into her face with an expression of fragile hope.

Her eyes were large and round, full of fear and fascination and something else as she listened to him.

"So instead, I'll write some of it in letters, a little at a time. I'll write about mundane things too, so that you get used to me. Then, someday, I hope, you'll be comfortable enough with me to let me say them out loud without panicking." He smiled wryly.

"Oh," The breathless word was the first thing she'd said since he began speaking.

"I think I may have already sent you into a panic," He let go of her hand and took a step backwards, giving her a little space. "I'll let you get some rest and hopefully see you before I have to leave in the morning."

She wanted to stop him. Or run. Or brazenly ask him to kiss her. Or flee like he predicted and hope he never caught up.

"Goodnight, Serafina," He smiled soothingly as he continued backing away.

"Wait!" She said suddenly, and he froze. "I-- that is-- Thank you. For understanding. Maybe better than I understand myself."

He smiled broadly, "I only venture to guess, so far. I'm gratified to know I'm on the right trail. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She sank back into her chair and gulped down some fresh air to calm her frantic mind.