“Better than where I slept last night.” Julian was too anxious to be tired yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before his exhaustion took over and he was useless.
“I am teasing. I’ll find you something. Ophelia is with Justine on a trail that direction.” He pointed. “You can leave your things with me, if you like. Or you can wait for their return here.”
Julian was ready to dump his pack and dash down the trail, but then doubt assailed him. “What do you think is the best thing to do?”
Karl frowned as he thought. “I am not certain. They have banished me from all conversation for several days, so I do not know how she is feeling.”
“I don’t want her to feel like I’m ambushing her,” Julian said.
“No, no. Perhaps I find them, tell them she can meet you at a tavern and discuss?”
Julian sighed. He did not want to go sit in a tavern for an undetermined amount of time. “I don’t think I am able to, I didn’t sleep last night.”
Karl gave him a strange look.
“I would need a nap first.” Indeed, this entire conversation had him quickly deflating. “Perhaps you could point me in the direction of the goat shed?”
“Come,” Karl said, wrapping his thick arm around Julian’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to a room, a nap, and perhaps a wash-up. I’ll tell Ophelia that you have arrived, and she can figure out if and where she would like to speak with you.”
“Brilliant,” Julian said, suddenly barely more than staggering on his feet. It turned out that Karl’s uncle ran the inn, and Julian got an excellent rate and a good room. When he opened his pack to get his shaving kit, he saw a small unfamiliar box packed on top. He plucked it out and examined it, finding a note scrawled across a piece of paper tucked in the string that held it closed.
Forgiveness is easier with chocolate.
Julian smiled and set it aside. Another gift for Ophelia, then. He bathed, shaved, made himself presentable, and then fell asleep on top of the covers in his spartan bachelor room.
*
A knock onthe door woke him from a dead slumber. Julian glanced at the window, noting that night had already fallen. He’d slept through dinner, which had not been his intention. He sat up, thinking it might be Karl, to tell him to come down and speak to Ophelia, or perhaps the uncle, Herr Brunner, who seemed a very nice fellow.
“Coming,” he croaked. A wave of dizziness hit him but passed quickly. His mouth was dry, and his eyes felt scratchy. He hadn’t gotten enough rest, but that was no matter. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to press on with little physical strength. He was determined that Ophelia understand him, that at least if she couldn’t forgive him, there could be that.
When he opened the door, his jaw dropped open because it wasn’t Karl.
Ophelia stood there, in her evening dress, a light blue chiffon-like drape around her shoulders. She was stunning, and his mouth didn’t seem to work any longer. He’d forgotten how truly beautiful she was. The more fool him.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said.
“I did,” he said, which was possibly the most idiotic thing he could have said. They stared at each other. “Would you like to come in?”
Ophelia shook her head. Which made sense. He was inviting her into his room, after all, and that did signal an intent that he was well aware was not appropriate.
“A walk perhaps?” he asked.
She gave a slight nod, and that beautiful golden hair caught the low light, shining like a beacon of old. He should be grateful she would bother to even give him five minutes, let alone a walk.
“I’ll grab my coat,” he said, stepping back into his room and letting the door slowly swing closed. He took a deep breath and gathered his jacket and hat. This was his chance. If everything blew up in his face, it was his only chance.
He saw her gifts sitting on the small dressing table. Should he explain first, and give gifts later? Yes, that was best. Otherwise, she would be carrying them on the walk, and that was cumbersome.
He stepped outside, catching a glance at her unguarded face as she gazed down the passage. Before she registered his presence, Julian saw despair. She was thinner, making her face appear narrower. He didn’t know if her emotions were tied to the place, and she was experiencing grief over the loss of her father, or if it was fear regarding the Matterhorn, or worse—it was because of him.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing down the hall, towards the stair, and ultimately, the front entrance.
She gave him a tight smile and set off down the hall. Her steps were short, measured. The evening dress wasn’t restrictive, so it didn’t require such a small gait. But she held herself tightly, taut like rope stretched so thin it begins to fray.
They walked out into the warm night. Julian offered his arm, but Ophelia didn’t move toward him. She kept the distance so large between them that he was afraid he might have to shout.
“If we walk toward the village, there will be light to see by,” Ophelia said.
