Silas Kember's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Silas pulled the satchel over his shoulder and moved for the door. Nora stepped in front of it. She still held her pen. Her easel leaned against the wall beside the lantern tree, forgotten. She was the woman half the village had seen him hold hands with, the woman he had asked to marry. Now she blocked his path. "You're going to her," she said. "Right now. In the middle of our plan." "Nora." He made himself stop. He owed her that much. "I did a cruel thing. I asked you to marry me while I was still writing to someone else. That was wrong. I am sorry for it." Her eyes went red at the edges. "Then stay. Prove you're sorry. Stay with me." "I can't." His voice stayed low, but it did not shake. "I love her. I've loved her since she came back. I hid it behind letters for a year, and I hid it behind you tonight. You deserve a man who chose you first. I'm not him." Nora's hand dropped from the door. The pen fell and rolled across the floor. "Then go," she said. "Before I beg you to stay and hate myself for it." She stepped aside. Silas went through the door into the cold lane. He did not look back. He ran. The glowing flowers he had passed every day blurred at the edge of his sight. He had no time. Vera had said yes to Garret. A ceremony meant a chapel, and a chapel meant now. The chapel rose pale against the dark, its bell still in the little tower. Lights burned behind the colored glass. Guests already filled the benches. Silas slipped past the open doors and kept to the wall. He found a side hall and followed it to a small room with a closed door. He opened it. Vera stood at the window in her wedding dress, her back to him, her blonde hair loose down the white cloth. She looked out at nothing, at the dark glass. "Vera," he said. She turned. For a moment she only stared, as if she did not believe her own eyes. Then her face broke open. "You came," she said. "You actually came." She crossed the room and ran into his arms. The dress crushed between them. He held her and felt her shaking, or maybe it was him. The satchel pressed against his hip, full of her name, written a hundred times. "I have something for you," he said into her hair. "I should have brought it a day ago." But past the door, down the hall, the bell began to ring. The guests stood. Somewhere near the altar, a broad man with a scar along his jaw waited for his bride. And Vera was in Silas's arms, in the dress meant for another man, with the whole village one room away.