discharged in
the evening.
“So maybe I left a bit early,” she answered his raised
eyebrow when he hung up. The calm in her eyes was turning into smugness. “Why
did you want to know when I left the hospital?”
He didn’t bother asking how she knew he had requested
to be informed, just like he didn’t bother calling her on her attitude. He was
getting used to her barging in on him with questions and demands.
“You were badly hurt,” he pointed out. “I was
concerned.”
She snorted at that, the small sound accompanied by a
shake of her head. “Soldiers are hurt every day. Are you concerned about all of
them?”
Wilhelm didn’t like the direction her questions were
taking or the rising volume of her voice. Accompanying her to the hospital had
been a bad idea, as had been the roses. Who knew what ideas he had put in her
head? He should have known better. At least, he hadn’t gone to visit her.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I get daily
reports about anyone from the Guard who enters or leaves the hospital.”
“Individual reports?” she challenged. “And do you
assign babysitters to all Guard members as well?”
She leaned forward. A flash of pain coursed over her
features, but she didn’t back away. Her gaze was pinning Wilhelm to his seat.
“I don’t assign babysitters to anyone.”
“What do you call Lorenzo, then? He told me
everything.”
Wilhelm clenched his teeth and kept quiet. Lorenzo was
an idiot, and the next time they met they would have a small discussion about
what part of ‘don’t tell her’ Lorenzo hadn’t understood.
“So? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“You just said you know everything, so I don’t know
what else you want to hear.”
There was no trace left of her earlier calm when she
stood. A muscle was ticking in her jaw, and the frustration and anger in her
scent were too tightly wound to distinguish.
“How about why you asked him to shadow me? Or whether
you suggested to him to get closer to me—”
“Never.”
She didn’t even seem to hear him. If anything, she
stood even closer to the desk, looming over Wilhelm.
“I just don’t get it. You go through all this trouble
to keep me safe, you bring me to the hospital, and then you don’t even visit
me.”
For a second, Wilhelm had a feeling that this last
point was what angered her most—but that couldn’t be. It wouldn’t make any
sense. She was waiting for an answer, though, and he struggled to find one.
“I can hardly visit everyone who gets hurt.”
“But you send flowers to all of them?”
Wilhelm had had enough. Nothing he could say now would
satisfy her. Standing, he walked around the desk and went to open the door to
his office.
“Night will be on us before long,” he said once she
had turned to look at him. “I have things to do. It's time for you to leave.”
She took slow steps toward him, staring at him the
entire way as though she could get the answers she wanted straight from his
mind.
“This is not over.”
The warning was clear in her tone, but Wilhelm didn’t
respond as she left his office. Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone
and dialed the number he had taped to the base of the receiver. The eager voice
that answered greeted him by name.
“Yes. The usual. Six. Pick up the note in my office.”
He pulled out a small envelope and blank note card
from a drawer and put the tip of a pen to it. When the florist knocked half an
hour later, the card was still as blank as Wilhelm’s mind.
* * * *
I still have that piece of paper, like I have every
single note Will ever wrote to me. That one just held one word. Sorry. I’m not
sure what he was sorry for. I asked him, once, and he said he was sorry for
ever thinking he could keep me safe despite my own wishes, and sorry he
couldn’t. That didn’t answer anything, but that’s Will in a nutshell for you.
I guess all his notes tell as much about us as
anything he ever said to me. I have
the evening.
“So maybe I left a bit early,” she answered his raised
eyebrow when he hung up. The calm in her eyes was turning into smugness. “Why
did you want to know when I left the hospital?”
He didn’t bother asking how she knew he had requested
to be informed, just like he didn’t bother calling her on her attitude. He was
getting used to her barging in on him with questions and demands.
“You were badly hurt,” he pointed out. “I was
concerned.”
She snorted at that, the small sound accompanied by a
shake of her head. “Soldiers are hurt every day. Are you concerned about all of
them?”
Wilhelm didn’t like the direction her questions were
taking or the rising volume of her voice. Accompanying her to the hospital had
been a bad idea, as had been the roses. Who knew what ideas he had put in her
head? He should have known better. At least, he hadn’t gone to visit her.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I get daily
reports about anyone from the Guard who enters or leaves the hospital.”
“Individual reports?” she challenged. “And do you
assign babysitters to all Guard members as well?”
She leaned forward. A flash of pain coursed over her
features, but she didn’t back away. Her gaze was pinning Wilhelm to his seat.
“I don’t assign babysitters to anyone.”
“What do you call Lorenzo, then? He told me
everything.”
Wilhelm clenched his teeth and kept quiet. Lorenzo was
an idiot, and the next time they met they would have a small discussion about
what part of ‘don’t tell her’ Lorenzo hadn’t understood.
“So? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“You just said you know everything, so I don’t know
what else you want to hear.”
There was no trace left of her earlier calm when she
stood. A muscle was ticking in her jaw, and the frustration and anger in her
scent were too tightly wound to distinguish.
“How about why you asked him to shadow me? Or whether
you suggested to him to get closer to me—”
“Never.”
She didn’t even seem to hear him. If anything, she
stood even closer to the desk, looming over Wilhelm.
“I just don’t get it. You go through all this trouble
to keep me safe, you bring me to the hospital, and then you don’t even visit
me.”
For a second, Wilhelm had a feeling that this last
point was what angered her most—but that couldn’t be. It wouldn’t make any
sense. She was waiting for an answer, though, and he struggled to find one.
“I can hardly visit everyone who gets hurt.”
“But you send flowers to all of them?”
Wilhelm had had enough. Nothing he could say now would
satisfy her. Standing, he walked around the desk and went to open the door to
his office.
“Night will be on us before long,” he said once she
had turned to look at him. “I have things to do. It's time for you to leave.”
She took slow steps toward him, staring at him the
entire way as though she could get the answers she wanted straight from his
mind.
“This is not over.”
The warning was clear in her tone, but Wilhelm didn’t
respond as she left his office. Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone
and dialed the number he had taped to the base of the receiver. The eager voice
that answered greeted him by name.
“Yes. The usual. Six. Pick up the note in my office.”
He pulled out a small envelope and blank note card
from a drawer and put the tip of a pen to it. When the florist knocked half an
hour later, the card was still as blank as Wilhelm’s mind.
* * * *
I still have that piece of paper, like I have every
single note Will ever wrote to me. That one just held one word. Sorry. I’m not
sure what he was sorry for. I asked him, once, and he said he was sorry for
ever thinking he could keep me safe despite my own wishes, and sorry he
couldn’t. That didn’t answer anything, but that’s Will in a nutshell for you.
I guess all his notes tell as much about us as
anything he ever said to me. I have
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