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volurofthehearthIt had been a long day, but a good one. Ingirun had learned so much about Viatorus, and Isidor, and even about Harrowheart. More than she’d ever have expected. If there was nothing else she was grateful for it was that now she knew without a doubt that she and Viatorus could both laugh together. Even if they didn’t come to love each other, at least they could be happy. That was one thing she’d always known: She couldn’t live in a house without laughter. It had been such a part of her life from such an early age, a staple in her home. Any time she and her father, her sisters and their families had sat around exchanging stories and jokes they always ended with generous bouts of laughter and always, without fail, as they calmed themselves her father would say, “A hearty laugh lengthens your life.” Always as if he was imparting secret knowledge for the first time. As if he hadn’t said it a few months ago, and a few months before that. It had become so commonplace that often when he opened his mouth the entire family would say it in unison, and then fall into laughter once again.
“Viatorus?”
He turned around, eyebrows up to the sky, giving that characteristically nervous edge to his expression. “Yes?”
The words she had prepared to say didn’t come. Instead her eyes drifted to the flat wooden box in his hands. For the first time since they’d met, her optimism slipped away and when she smiled it was to hide sadness with hope. “I was wondering if… if I could borrow that. Not for long. For a minute, if you would allow it. I would be quick.”
“I’m sure it could stay out for another minute,” Viatorus said. His smile was friendly but there was a questioning tilt of his head as he handed the box over. “Who knows when it will be out of the vault again.”
“Thank you.” Ingirun smiled meekly in return and stared at the box with its polished wooden surface and simple metal clasp. She moved in a daze, enchanted by what she held, until she came to a stop in front of the mirror in his living room. She set it down softly and opened it, revealing the delicately engraved locket resting on a bed of velvet. She stared at it in silence and then drew in a deep breath.
Behind her, Viatorus stepped closer, now certain his concerns were not entirely misplaced. “Are you all right?”
“I… I was surprised. When Harrowheart put it on. He looked so alive, so different, and not different at all. He might have been as alive as you or I, today. Like he’d never died. Like he’d never left us… Never left the living, I mean.” She turned and smiled, brightness peeking through glassy eyes. “He’s very handsome, don’t you think? He had such lovely eyes, so warm…” Her smile slipped away. “He died so young…”
Viatorus nodded slowly, spoke gently. “I’m glad he didn’t stay dead.”
“Me too.” She strained her smile a little wider but it vanished when she looked back at the locket. “I didn’t expect him to look so alive… and when he did… I thought… I wondered…” Her shoulder rose shyly and she laughed a laugh that hid a gasp. “I only wondered…”
She fell silent, and Viatorus waited, like he waited in dreams, watching something personal even though he didn’t know what it was. Patience was the least he could offer, so patience was what he gave.
“I was very young when my mother died.” She sighs and it manages to sound bittersweet. “I can still remember her voice, I think... As warm as Harrowheart’s eyes.” Her head bowed and she found the chain around her neck, unfastened it and revealed another locket. Hesitantly, Viatorus stepped a little closer to see her place it on the cabinet beside the Durant heirloom. Its face was of small pressed flowers that looked impossibly delicate next to the deep cut metal design of his family’s trinket. “I don’t remember her face. I’ve seen it in photos, but I don’t… really remember it. I thought… I thought maybe I could see her face again. One more time.”
His voice broke as he went to speak and he had to clear his throat before his voice would allow him to ask, “Would you like me to leave?”
Her eyes met his in the mirror. “Do you want to leave?”
“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he whispered back.
Surprise flashed across her face, but then she smiled softly and looked down at the lockets again. With all the care in the world, she opened the lockets one at a time and transferred a perfect loop of golden hair fastened with a lilac bow from one into the other. She closed the silver pendant and hung it around her neck. When she lifted her head again her vision blurred so suddenly that she felt a rush of panic as her vision slipped beneath a sea of emotion. One tear rolled down her cheek and then another. Ingirun turned this way and that, looking for her bag, but instead she found Viatorus offering a neatly folded handkerchief. Smiling briefly, she took it and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
After drying her eyes and steadying her breath, she turned to the mirror again. Her mother’s face trembled in exactly the same uncertain happiness that she felt. Their eyes watered again and the handkerchief reappeared to help them see each other better. Ingirun lifted a hand and touched the cold glass that separated them and her mother reached for her from the other side. She tried to be happy at the reflection’s recognition, but the beautiful smile that shone back at her was so familiar that she sobbed, and once she started sobbing she couldn’t stop. At first she tried to wipe away the tears that stopped her from seeing that face she’d forgotten, the face that had lingered on the fringes of her memory for her whole life, but Viatorus’ handkerchief couldn’t keep them away and it soon became no more than a sodden cloth. Her chest tightened, her knees weakened and she bent over, leaning on the cabinet nearby. That was when she felt a hand on her arm and, without looking up, she let Viatorus guide her to a couch. Her heart hurt so much, and the small piece of comfort drew her in. She turned to him and rested her head against his shoulder, collapsing into him ever so slightly. Even though she tried to control herself, her sobs and gasps were too loud for her to hear the hammering of his heart or feel the stiffness of his muscles. Slowly, the Dreamwalker relaxed into his position of support, and he wrapped his arms around her lightly, stroking her shoulder.
It took a long while for her to calm down, but she did calm down. When he found an opportunity to, Viatorus made her tea, and they sat and talked. She took off the locket and held it while she told him about her mother, and the stories that had been repeated to her time and time again. She told him about how her mother used to sing so beautifully all the neighbours would gather to listen. She told him about how she made a garden of wildflowers that she would braid into her daughters’ hair in summer. She told him about how her mother knew every Swedish proverb there was, and would repeat them so often that her father now knew them off by heart. Everyone else had memories of her mother, except her, and she collected them like precious treasures, repeating them with care and emotion. Her words made him smile when she smiled, laugh when she laughed, and ache when her heart ached. Viatorus thought it was beautiful, but didn’t have the courage to say so.
They didn’t end the night in apologies as Viatorus had expected, and had been preparing his reassurances for. Instead Ingirun thanked him repeatedly. For being so patient, and so kind. For letting her use the locket, and for getting her tea. His cheeks went red as he stumbled through “You’re welcome”s and “It’s no trouble at all”s. It felt strange to see her express so much gratitude when facing red rimmed eyes and smudged make-up, but perhaps it was better. He wondered briefly if she did it on purpose, if she knew apologising and voicing regrets would only summon dreams of memories she wished she had. He wished she had. He wished he could do more.
“Runa…” She was just past the threshold when he called her, and he faltered when she turned around. “I… Maybe, if you’d like… I could make you a dream… with your mother there. So you could have some memories. So you could spend time with her.”
Ingirun smiled. It wasn’t as sad as it had been before. “You’re very kind, but I’ll be all right. I know she’s guiding me.”
Not entirely convinced she wasn’t just being polite, Viatorus pressed, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. She brought me to you.” Her smile became sweet again. It almost hid how tired her sadness had made her.
Viatorus blushed again and looked at his shoes.
Potential crooned at them, urging unspoken words and unexpressed feelings to fill the silence. The moment stretched on and slipped away.
Ingirun smiled gently and dipped her head. “Goodnight, Viatorus.”
“Runa?” She looked up and found concern etched deep into his face. He needed to know, needed to ask and be sure of her answer. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. I will be, I promise. I am glad of today, of all of it. I would not change a thing.” Her eyes became distant and her smile blossomed. “As they say, ‘Eyes that do not cry, do not see’.”
“Viatorus?”
He turned around, eyebrows up to the sky, giving that characteristically nervous edge to his expression. “Yes?”
The words she had prepared to say didn’t come. Instead her eyes drifted to the flat wooden box in his hands. For the first time since they’d met, her optimism slipped away and when she smiled it was to hide sadness with hope. “I was wondering if… if I could borrow that. Not for long. For a minute, if you would allow it. I would be quick.”
“I’m sure it could stay out for another minute,” Viatorus said. His smile was friendly but there was a questioning tilt of his head as he handed the box over. “Who knows when it will be out of the vault again.”
“Thank you.” Ingirun smiled meekly in return and stared at the box with its polished wooden surface and simple metal clasp. She moved in a daze, enchanted by what she held, until she came to a stop in front of the mirror in his living room. She set it down softly and opened it, revealing the delicately engraved locket resting on a bed of velvet. She stared at it in silence and then drew in a deep breath.
Behind her, Viatorus stepped closer, now certain his concerns were not entirely misplaced. “Are you all right?”
“I… I was surprised. When Harrowheart put it on. He looked so alive, so different, and not different at all. He might have been as alive as you or I, today. Like he’d never died. Like he’d never left us… Never left the living, I mean.” She turned and smiled, brightness peeking through glassy eyes. “He’s very handsome, don’t you think? He had such lovely eyes, so warm…” Her smile slipped away. “He died so young…”
Viatorus nodded slowly, spoke gently. “I’m glad he didn’t stay dead.”
“Me too.” She strained her smile a little wider but it vanished when she looked back at the locket. “I didn’t expect him to look so alive… and when he did… I thought… I wondered…” Her shoulder rose shyly and she laughed a laugh that hid a gasp. “I only wondered…”
She fell silent, and Viatorus waited, like he waited in dreams, watching something personal even though he didn’t know what it was. Patience was the least he could offer, so patience was what he gave.
“I was very young when my mother died.” She sighs and it manages to sound bittersweet. “I can still remember her voice, I think... As warm as Harrowheart’s eyes.” Her head bowed and she found the chain around her neck, unfastened it and revealed another locket. Hesitantly, Viatorus stepped a little closer to see her place it on the cabinet beside the Durant heirloom. Its face was of small pressed flowers that looked impossibly delicate next to the deep cut metal design of his family’s trinket. “I don’t remember her face. I’ve seen it in photos, but I don’t… really remember it. I thought… I thought maybe I could see her face again. One more time.”
His voice broke as he went to speak and he had to clear his throat before his voice would allow him to ask, “Would you like me to leave?”
Her eyes met his in the mirror. “Do you want to leave?”
“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he whispered back.
Surprise flashed across her face, but then she smiled softly and looked down at the lockets again. With all the care in the world, she opened the lockets one at a time and transferred a perfect loop of golden hair fastened with a lilac bow from one into the other. She closed the silver pendant and hung it around her neck. When she lifted her head again her vision blurred so suddenly that she felt a rush of panic as her vision slipped beneath a sea of emotion. One tear rolled down her cheek and then another. Ingirun turned this way and that, looking for her bag, but instead she found Viatorus offering a neatly folded handkerchief. Smiling briefly, she took it and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
After drying her eyes and steadying her breath, she turned to the mirror again. Her mother’s face trembled in exactly the same uncertain happiness that she felt. Their eyes watered again and the handkerchief reappeared to help them see each other better. Ingirun lifted a hand and touched the cold glass that separated them and her mother reached for her from the other side. She tried to be happy at the reflection’s recognition, but the beautiful smile that shone back at her was so familiar that she sobbed, and once she started sobbing she couldn’t stop. At first she tried to wipe away the tears that stopped her from seeing that face she’d forgotten, the face that had lingered on the fringes of her memory for her whole life, but Viatorus’ handkerchief couldn’t keep them away and it soon became no more than a sodden cloth. Her chest tightened, her knees weakened and she bent over, leaning on the cabinet nearby. That was when she felt a hand on her arm and, without looking up, she let Viatorus guide her to a couch. Her heart hurt so much, and the small piece of comfort drew her in. She turned to him and rested her head against his shoulder, collapsing into him ever so slightly. Even though she tried to control herself, her sobs and gasps were too loud for her to hear the hammering of his heart or feel the stiffness of his muscles. Slowly, the Dreamwalker relaxed into his position of support, and he wrapped his arms around her lightly, stroking her shoulder.
It took a long while for her to calm down, but she did calm down. When he found an opportunity to, Viatorus made her tea, and they sat and talked. She took off the locket and held it while she told him about her mother, and the stories that had been repeated to her time and time again. She told him about how her mother used to sing so beautifully all the neighbours would gather to listen. She told him about how she made a garden of wildflowers that she would braid into her daughters’ hair in summer. She told him about how her mother knew every Swedish proverb there was, and would repeat them so often that her father now knew them off by heart. Everyone else had memories of her mother, except her, and she collected them like precious treasures, repeating them with care and emotion. Her words made him smile when she smiled, laugh when she laughed, and ache when her heart ached. Viatorus thought it was beautiful, but didn’t have the courage to say so.
They didn’t end the night in apologies as Viatorus had expected, and had been preparing his reassurances for. Instead Ingirun thanked him repeatedly. For being so patient, and so kind. For letting her use the locket, and for getting her tea. His cheeks went red as he stumbled through “You’re welcome”s and “It’s no trouble at all”s. It felt strange to see her express so much gratitude when facing red rimmed eyes and smudged make-up, but perhaps it was better. He wondered briefly if she did it on purpose, if she knew apologising and voicing regrets would only summon dreams of memories she wished she had. He wished she had. He wished he could do more.
“Runa…” She was just past the threshold when he called her, and he faltered when she turned around. “I… Maybe, if you’d like… I could make you a dream… with your mother there. So you could have some memories. So you could spend time with her.”
Ingirun smiled. It wasn’t as sad as it had been before. “You’re very kind, but I’ll be all right. I know she’s guiding me.”
Not entirely convinced she wasn’t just being polite, Viatorus pressed, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. She brought me to you.” Her smile became sweet again. It almost hid how tired her sadness had made her.
Viatorus blushed again and looked at his shoes.
Potential crooned at them, urging unspoken words and unexpressed feelings to fill the silence. The moment stretched on and slipped away.
Ingirun smiled gently and dipped her head. “Goodnight, Viatorus.”
“Runa?” She looked up and found concern etched deep into his face. He needed to know, needed to ask and be sure of her answer. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. I will be, I promise. I am glad of today, of all of it. I would not change a thing.” Her eyes became distant and her smile blossomed. “As they say, ‘Eyes that do not cry, do not see’.”
