Theresa exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and turned away from the alley.
Nothing to see here.
But, again overcome by curiosity, her neck seemed to turn on its own. The man had leaned back against the wall, as if resuming a hide-and-seek game where there was no seeker. Even as Theresa forced herself to walk a few steps more toward the direction of her home, that image of those bright silver eyes mystified her. Resolute, she clutched her hand against her basket handle and turned back to the main street.
"You there! Miss!"
Theresa flinched at the gruff voice. A well-dressed sergeant and his crew marched briskly up the lane. Their rhythmic steps on the cobblestones were almost as loud as their outfits. Passerby parted give way. Theresa's nerves thrummed as the bearded sergeant demanded in his loud, booming voice:
"Miss! You've seen an overdressed young fellow rush by here?"
It was almost a statement, and not a question. Theresa immediately thought to the man in the alley and the scalloped sleeves. But then Theresa remembered the finger he'd put to his lips to signify silence. And the way he'd smiled to reassure her.
Her voice was small compared to the sergeants, but she replied evenly.
"That way."
Finger steady, Theresa felt almost not herself as she daringly pointed towards the big crowd at Cesari's and lied to the officer. "Towards that crowd of people, Sir."
The sergeant didn't doubt her word. Theresa almost felt inclined to tell the man that soldiers were far too naive and quite bad at their jobs these days, but thought better of it. The sergeant barked a command at the guards behind him, and the group marched back up from where they came. The street filled again as people returned to the humdrum of market day.
Theresa stood there, frozen in place.
'Oh! Becoming a liar is surely in the cards.' She wrung her dress a bit. 'It's okay, Theresa. You won't do it again, and the police won't come back here and question you. And you will not save any more strange men in alleyways.'
She had taken to speaking to herself in the past few months. Not that one could blame her that much. Having nothing but hats for company for a great deal of time does make one rather lonely, whether they would admit it or not. For the second time, she barely noticed when a figure came up behind her.
A warm pressure settled on her shoulder, as a light laugh echoed near her ear.
"No need to be afraid."
Theresa really did jump this time. The voice behind her seemed to muffle a chuckle every time her shoulders twitched. Numbly, she turned to face whomever was at her back.
Sunlight confirmed exactly what she'd suspected (and feared, a bit): he was devastating to look at. He appeared in his twenties. Deep, black hair fell loosely to brush his shoulders. Sure enough, striking silver eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief in a face Theresa couldn't help but compare it to the portraits of Prince Charming that Miriam used to dribble with the hot wax in the shop.
The man grinned at her stare. It was not a leer, but a smile revealing a proportionate amount of dazzling white teeth. It was likely the King of Kyr would kill for the persuasion in that smile.
"Thank you, for just now."
"Oh." Quite unfortunately, Theresa's body seemed to seize up at this interaction. Her mouth felt dry at the sheer proximity of another human. She was no misanthrope. But the months of working alone in the shop had caused her social skills to mold. Even less developed was her understanding of men.
Men, Theresa knew close to nothing about. If it were boys, at least there were the old crowd in grammar school that teased her for her hair. Furthermore, men followed social cues from other women, and that was worst of all, for a firstborn.
As if sensing her discomfort, the man removed his hand from her shoulder. Theresa immediately readjusted her stance, taking a step back, then scolded herself for her manners.
"You're welcome," she got out, stiffly.
Silence all-too-quickly resettled the space between the two. The stranger kindly attempt to melt a bit of the tension, and opened his mouth. "You really saved me back there," he smiled. "I was in a lot of trouble with those men." But at the sound of his smooth, easy tenor, Theresa felt herself tense again, much to her own disapproval.
She nodded once, and then strategically looked down at her feet. Since she couldn't think of much polite and socially appropriate conversation at the moment, she had to resort to drastic measures such as sign language.
I need to go, every part of her seemed to radiate.
The young man only laughed again.
"Don't be scared, you little mouse. I'm only trying to escort you to where you're going."
He paused, and looked around the square at the crowds of people that rushed by. Against them, the stranger in his flamboyant clothes seemed to stand out like a beacon, pushing to the background the sloshing waves of people. This only added to Theresa's discomfort.
"So, where to?"
Theresa considered this. Normally, not looking at someone, trying to not hear them, and by all effects willing to remain anonymous to others did the job. However, everything about this man demanded attention: his mannerisms, his voice, the twinkle of his eyes framed by the black cloud of his hair. The smell of the roses traveled up her nose and unnerved her. Its nostalgic edge made her think of the past, of her mother, of when she was not the eldest of three, when she was a success, when she was a child with big dreams for the future.
Theresa took a deep breath, but before she could make herself release it slowly. It came out in one big, quivering rush.
"It's really alright!"
Her knees knocked together, shocked stiff by her own outburst. Her shoulders hunched over like an old lady as she cringed at what rebuke might come. Words rasped out in short syllables as her face burned.
"You don't... have to." Her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. "I'm comfortable by myself."
As her fists slowly unfurled, Theresa reminded herself of her duty. The tailor. Her father's will. Taking care of her younger sister. Yes. She would walk home from here, and it would take less than five minutes. The last five minutes of her silly little escapade from tasks more befitting of the eldest-daughter life. She willed herself to be composed. To muster up the pragmatism that was her greatest companion since childhood.
But the stranger looked perplexed. Curious. In the years that she'd been pitied and teased, nothing compared to this.
"I..." Unfortunately, her stubborn tongue refused to continue.
"I think we ought to set out, then," he said smoothly. "I know a great place for a refreshment. It's just around the corner and down that street."
"It's..."
"If I must escort a lady, let me do it properly." Following that declaration with a twinkling laugh, the stranger held out his arm to Theresa. Tentatively, she took it, and they marched together straight down the now very crowded street.
The next several minutes blurred together. The sun beat down upon the busy marketplace, and while Theresa felt lost among the loud sounds and clamoring streets. She also felt light, floating above all the other swarming crowds. It was a world where she didn't stare straight or shrink as they toured the bustling city walkways. He didn't seem to have a direction at all, and Theresa had to half-run to keep up. Where was this 'place for a refreshment'?
Unwittingly, Theresa let it go. She strode with the mysterious stranger beside her, gradually mimicking his sure, confident steps, as they occasionally flashed smiles at the people who passed by and nodded, charmed by the young pair.
Both Theresa's smile and heart fell when they came up a familiar street. The front of the Potter shop featured a gaggle of girls, milling about in the front and laughing, peering inside while jostling each other.
Lissy wasn't in the group, but Mel was. She took one look at the tall figure beside Theresa and balked. Though they were still a distance away, Theresa tried not to squirm under the multiplying gazes. Fortunately, Mel seemed to size up the situation, and promptly decided to pick up her skirts and walk down the street posthaste towards the healer to have her eyes checked.
It was not everyday they saw such a fine specimen with a Theresa Potter look-alike. The girls twittered, before dispersing like a ring of brightly colored parakeets, some heading in the direction of Mel, others returning to business they had left unattended before.
Curious, her companion glanced down at Theresa, who now felt a rush of anxiety.
She shouldn't have lied to the sergeant. She should have finished her chores more quickly. It was past noon. Now she was faced with the dilemma of choosing to abruptly excuse herself from the stranger, wherein the girls would undoubtedly re-flock, or heading inside the shop, and revealing all its financial troubles.
Leaving abruptly was undeniably the safer route, since she had no desire for more pity if he found out about her situation. And leaving sooner was better than later.
'I need to open shop.'
Maybe it was a paltry excuse. But anyhow, her words tumbled out.
"I-I am the eldest of three."
But the man continued to stand by, quite tranquil, while Theresa's own feet now felt glued to the spot. His voice broke the silence.
"And?"
It wasn't what she'd been expecting. The innocent way in which it was said offered her courage. And yet, at the same time, a big stone in her gullet seemed to roll out of its place, and out of the hole, unhappiness after unhappiness tumbled out—despair at the months holed up alone with no company; uncertainty at the future of her family's financial situation; disappointment at being denied the dream of a different life, just because she had two sisters after her.
"I'm sorry! I can't get refreshments. P-please." Theresa tried to wrestle her arm back, and step away from him.
"Don't apologize," he said carefully. "Are you busy?"
She tried to explain, but the words came out a mess. "I-I have responsibilities. I need to open the shop today, or they'll be no money for next month's orders of autumn hat trimmings and I haven't visited my sister and I can't fail my late father now—"
There were things that could be divulged to strangers that could never be, to familiar faces. A small stone started the avalanche-like parade of words. Out poured the things about her sisters' apprenticeships, what her father had said before he had passed, leaving her by herself to take care of the shop when the rest of the girls her age were being introduced to society. She revealed the truth of the girls who stopped by everyday just to tease her outside the hat shop window.
At the end of it all, Theresa felt like a complete fool.
"I'm - hic - quite s-sorry! I imposed myself!"
She dared not look up at him, but the young man's tone was warm.
"Let me help…"
It all started out so innocently.
Theresa felt his hand brush a strand of hair from her face.
"I'll make you a bargain…Since you helped me this morning"
Theresa felt rooted to the spot.
"I'll lend you a hand with your father's hat shop…"
His soft breath tingled by her ear.
"—for seven days"
The words would not come to her.
"Wait for me when you open shop, tomorrow... "
Theresa's breath caught mid-beat of her heart.
"…on the first day."
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