Silas Kember's Arc

Chapter 9 of 10

The day Vera asked for passed slow. Silas stayed in his shop. He did not go to the lake. He did not knock on any door. The satchel sat on his desk, full of letters that bore her name. He told himself the door was closed. He had chosen Nora. But he did not reach for a pen all morning, and he did not send a single page. In Garret's cottage, Vera sat at the warm table again. The chain at Garret's neck still held her old ring. He set down a plate and looked at her with a plain, steady face. "You've had your day," he said. "I won't ask pretty. I'll just ask. Are you ready for a family? You and me, Vera. A child. A life." He did not touch her. He only waited. Vera's eyes went to the window. She waited too. She waited for a knock, for a satchel, for a scribe with ink on his hands. She gave Silas the whole day to come. But the lane stayed empty. No letters came. She looked back at Garret's patient face and felt the small hope close like a fist. "Yes," she said. "I'm ready." Garret smiled wide. He took her hand in both of his. "Then we start now," he said. "No more waiting. No more days." Vera nodded. She let him hold her hand. She did not look at the window again. That evening Silas sat with Nora. She had set a small glowing tree of lanterns near the table, its branches soft with light. A cluster of blue bells and wildflowers shimmered in a jar beside it. "We should elope," Nora said. She spread a page and sketched a quiet date. "No crowd. No whole village watching. Just us." Silas nodded and said yes to every plan. But his eyes kept drifting to the satchel on the desk. A friend of theirs came by with news from the lane. "Did you hear?" the friend said, shaking off the cold. "Vera told Garret yes. They're starting a family. Right away." The words landed in Silas's chest. His hand went still over the page. He thought of the willow, of Vera's warm eyes, of the way she listened when he asked about her life. He had chosen her once, long before the letters. He had loved her first. The glowing lanterns blurred. He remembered why. Nora watched his face change. She set down her pen. "You heard that," she said. It was not a question. Silas did not answer fast enough. Nora looked at the satchel, then at him. "You're still writing to her," she said. "After all of it." Silas reached for the satchel. His hand shook the way it always had. The door he thought was closed stood open again. "I have to know," he said. "Before she starts a life with him. I have to put these in her hands."