And just when she thought she couldn’t be surprised by anything else, Roman began to kneel. Right there in the center of the street, halfway up the hill. He was about to ask her. He was truly about to ask her to be his wife, and Iris gasped.
He winced as his knee found the cobblestones, a glint of pain in his eyes.
Iris glanced down, beyond their linked hands. Blood was seeping through the right leg of his jumpsuit.
“Kitt!” she cried, urging him to stand again. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s nothing, Winnow,” he said, but he was beginning to look pale. “I must have pulled a stitch.”
“Here, sit down.”
“In the road?”
“No, over here on this crate.” Iris guided him to the closest front yard. It must have been the O’Briens’ property, because there were multiple cats sunbathing on the dead grass, and she remembered Marisol talking about how most of Avalon Bluff worried those felines would get them all bombed one day.
“I must have failed to mention that I’m allergic to cats,” Roman said, frowning as Iris forced him to sit on the overturned milk crate. “And I’m more than capable of walking back to Marisol’s.”
“No, you’re not,” Iris argued. “The cats will leave you alone, I’m sure. Wait here for me, Kitt. Don’t you dare move.” She began to step away, but he snagged her hand, dragging her back to him.
“You’re leaving me here?” He made it sound as if she were abandoning him. Her heart rose in her throat when she recalled how she had left him in the trenches. She wondered if that day haunted him the way it did her. Every night when she lay in the dark, remembering.
You and I … we need to stay together. We’re better this way.
“Only for a moment,” Iris said, squeezing his fingers. “I’ll run and fetch Peter. He has a lorry, and he can give us a ride to the infirmary, so a doctor can look at your—”
“I’m not going back to the infirmary, Iris,” Roman stated. “They’re overworked and there’s no room for me with something as minor as a pulled stitch. I can fix it myself, if Marisol has a needle and thread.”
Iris sighed. “All right. I’ll take you to the B and B, so long as you don’t move while I’m gone.”
Roman relented with a nod. He relinquished her hand, albeit slowly, and Iris broke into a run, flying down the street and around the bend at a breakneck pace. She thankfully found Peter at home, next door to the B and B, and he agreed to drive up the bluff to give Roman a lift.
Iris stood in the back of the lorry beside a hay bale, holding on to the wooden side panel as the truck rumbled through the streets. She didn’t understand why her breath continued to skip, as if her heart believed she was still running. She didn’t understand why her blood was coursing, and why she was suddenly afraid.
She half expected for them to ascend the hill only to find Roman was gone. It felt like she was caught up in the pages of a strange fairy tale, and she shouldn’t be foolish but shrewd, preparing for something horrible to thwart her. Because good things never lasted for long in her life. She thought about all the people who had been close to her, the threads of their lives weaving with hers—Nan, Forest, her mother—and how they had all left, either by choice or by fate.
He was about to ask me, Iris told herself, closing her eyes as they began to lurch up the hill. Roman Kitt wants to marry me.
She remembered the words she had written to herself, nights ago. She reminded herself that even though she had been left, time and time again, by the people she loved, Roman had come to her.
He was choosing her.
The lorry began to slow as Peter downshifted. There was a pop of backfire, and Iris jumped. It sounded so much like a gun firing, and her pulse spiked. She winced, fighting the urge to cower, choosing instead to open her eyes.
Roman was sitting on the milk crate just as she left him, with a scowl on his face. And a cat curled up in his lap.
Dear Kitt,
Now that your stitches are set and you’ve recovered from your encounter with the cat, it’s time to settle two very pressing matters between us, as they both keep me up at night. Don’t you agree?
—I.W.
Dear Winnow,
I have an inkling as to one of the matters, which was rudely interrupted by my damn stitches. But the other … I want to make sure I know precisely what is stealing your sleep.
Alas, enlighten me.
Your Kitt
P.S. Is it odd we’re next door to each other and still choosing to send letters through our wardrobes?
Dear Kitt,
I’m surprised you don’t recall in vivid detail the previous debate you once shared with me. I was supposed to settle it once I saw you.
I think your nan will be happy with my choice.
My answer is firmly this: Knight Errant.
—I.W.
P.S. Yes, it’s odd, but so much more efficient, wouldn’t you agree?
Dearest Winnow,
I’m flattered. It must be the pointy chin. But as to the other matter? It must be done in person.
Your Kitt
P.S. Agreed. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you at the moment …
My Dear Kitt,
You’ll have to wait to see me until tomorrow, when I plan to drag you out to the garden. No more cats and no more walks for the time being, however. Not until you heal. Then we can race to the hill, and I might beat you for once （but don’t go easy on me）。
And you can officially ask me tomorrow.
Love,
Iris
P.S. If you see me too much, you’re bound to tire of my sad snail stories.
Dear Iris,
The garden it is.
Your Kitt
P.S. Impossible.
{36}
In the Garden
Iris wanted him to ask her in the garden. But there was something she needed to ask him first, and she waited to get him settled on a chair in the shade. Roman watched as she knelt in the dirt, pulling up weeds and watering row after row.
“I was thinking about something last night, Kitt,” she said.
“Oh? What’s that, Winnow?”
She glanced up at him. Patches of sunlight danced over his shoulders, over the striking features of his face. His dark hair almost looked blue. “I was thinking about how much time I’ve squandered in the past.”
Roman’s brow arched, but his eyes gleamed with interest. “You don’t strike me as one who would ‘squander’ anything.”
“I did a few days ago. When I came to see you in the infirmary. When I brought my letters to you.” She couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke, so she created a weed to pull. “The truth is I have my pride, and I feared my feelings. And so I left you with many things unsaid, and then I put what I thought was a cushion of days between us. Time to protect myself, to put all my armor on again. But then I realized that I’m not guaranteed anything. I should know this well by now, after being in the trenches. I’m not prom ised this evening, let alone tomorrow. A bomb could fall from the sky any moment, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to get to do this.”
Roman was quiet, soaking in her rambling confession. Gently, he asked, “And what is this you speak of?”
She felt the irresistible draw of his gaze, and she glanced up to meet it. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”