2nd Best Ch. 06

He had even tried once. A young Russian woman. But it had not lasted. She was lazy. He came home to a mess. And once he got back, all she did was whine, begging to go to town, to the city. Anywhere to get off the island.

Then he had come home to find half his stuff gone and a note. She had found someone else. Someone that would not hold her captive. She was taking some things because she had 'earned' them with all her hard work. That six-month experiment had cost him dearly.

It was the last straw. He gave up his dreams. He threw himself into his work. And he drank when he home. He drank and dreamed of things he would never have. Then even work had turned sour. But he held on for the simple reason that he did not want to spend the rest of his life on that 'gilded prison' as the Russian girl called his island.

It had never been the home he had hoped it would be. It never would be. He was fifty-five. He had been working for almost four decades. And he absolutely nothing to show for it. Nothing to look forward to.

Then she stepped on board his ship. And everything changed. Or had it? He was more confused now than he had been. Why had she not sought him out when her husband died?

He studied her. She was thinner than she ever had been. Perhaps society or doctors would think that was a good thing, healthier, prettier. But it wasn't. She looked drawn, tired. Helvetia, even in that fancy dress that hung to what was now almost the perfect hour-glass figure, she looked worse than she had that last time he had picked her up at the train station.

Of course, her hair was almost entirely grey now, but then too, so was his. It looked far better on her than it did on him. And the lines and wrinkles on her face did nothing to mare her inner beauty. The dark shadows and puffiness around her eyes, on the other hand, did.

Why? It all came down to that. Why would she, knowing how well things had worked last time, why wouldn't she seek out his help this time? If nothing else than that. Or had she? Had she planned this trip for that reason? Was it Fate? Or the trickster god Loki having one more laugh at his expense?

He had to find the answers to those questions. But so much rode on them. He could not even begin to think about the future...if they even had one. What happened next did not matter until he knew why.

He drew air and the courage of his ancestors facing another battle deep into his lungs and soul as he straightened his jacket. He forced a smile and started across the room. Dessert. A couple of dances, one exceptional one. But not the first dance of the night. That might frighten her - especially when she heard the song.

Closing his eyes and hiding when the honesty was too much had backfired on him, twice. But if he held her again, would that fear ever subside?