Page 87 of Flanders' Folly
Brigid shifted slightly, wincing as the movement disturbed her healing legs. The doctor had ordered her to leave the burns exposed to the air, and though the worst of the pain had subsided, she still felt every small movement. The clean sheets beneath her were a luxury, as was her freshly washed hair, but after days in the same room, she was desperate for something—anything—different.
Flanders appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. He carried a chair, which he placed just outside the threshold. True to his word, he made no move to enter.
"I've brought ye something," he said, settling into the chair. From inside his strange new clothing, he produced a small book bound in red leather. "James gave it to me. It's in French—the New French they speak here. It will help us learn."
"What is it?" she asked, curious despite her fatigue.
"A story.Les Misérables.About a man who steals a loaf of bread and spends nineteen years in prison for it." He opened the book carefully. "I thought I might read to ye. To help pass the time."
The nurse, who had been hovering nearby, nodded her approval and after exchanging a pointed look with Flanders, stepped out of the room.
He began to read, his voice halting at first as he struggled with unfamiliar words. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, his pace increased. He kept a small piece of paper beside him and marked down words and phrases to ask James about later.
When he finally paused, Brigid realized she'd been so caught up in his voice and the story that she'd forgotten where she was.
"I must go," he said reluctantly. "But I'll return whenever ye call for me." He kissed his hand, then blew at the spot as if he could send the kiss across the room to her. It was the sweetest gesture she’d ever seen.
"I'll call often," she promised.
True to his word, he returned twice more that day, reading until his voice grew tired. By evening, Brigid found herself looking forward to the next installment like a hungry lassie waiting for her next meal.
* * *
The following day,Flanders was pleased to see Bella join them. She sat in one of the yellow chairs and tucked her feet beneath her while she drew on her pile of parchment. She pretended to be watching over him, protecting her sister, but he soon realized she was there for the story. Perhaps she’d been listening from the start.
Her presence also made her sister happy, and he learned the pair had never spent much time apart, which helped explain why the relationship was so difficult for Bella to accept.
On the third day, when he moved the small chair into place, Bella surprised him.
"Let me try," she said, holding out her hand for the book.
He surrendered it without hesitation. "By all means." He took the more comfortable chair to listen.
Bella began confidently enough, but soon stumbled over the unfamiliar words. Flanders winced at her pronunciation, but hid his amusement. After a few pages, she sighed in frustration.
"This is harder than it looks," she admitted, handing the book back to him. "I'll leave the reading to ye." Then traded seats with him.
He took it as some small victory.
43
MEET OL’ MISTER TECHNOLOGY
* * *
Two days later, the doctor finally allowed Brigid to join them for breakfast, and she asked if he would mind reading to her in the garden. Later that morning, they found a quiet corner of the garden where they could all sit comfortably on cushioned settles. Bella chose to kneel nearby to work the soil and tend the plants while he read.
A few days later, Brigid sat on the ground as well, and the pair of them enjoyed working with flowers and plants while they listened. And though he felt left out, somehow, he resisted the urge to insert himself in their shared pleasures.
Maybe the enemy would relax her guard…
* * *
Brigid had been lyingin bed for hours with her mind wandering between the past and the future, when she finally realized sleep was beyond her.
The house was too warm, the air stifling.
With most of the day spent in the garden, her veins now hummed with the same natural magic she’d imbued into the columbine and honeysuckle. And now it was she who felt like reaching up and climbing the walls around her.
