Page 42 of Our Own Light
Oliver’s statement hung in the air for a few seconds. Uncomfortable with the subsequent silence, Oliver tucked his hands beneath his thighs to keep himself from biting his fingernails. Aunt Betty smoothed out her dress.
“Well, it’s very nice to see you, Oliver,” she finally said. “I hope you’re enjoying Rock Creek.”
“Mostly.” Oliver chewed on his bottom lip. “Aunt Betty, have you ever fallen in love with someone who you’re not supposed to fall in love with?”
It was probably too intimate of a thing to ask, and especially too intimate of a thing to randomly sputter forth in the middle of a conversation, but he couldn’t make himself care anymore. He needed someone to talk to.
“Why are you asking me that?” she asked in a biting tone.
Aunt Betty’s sudden show of hostility had Oliver wondering the reason for it. Perhaps the two of them were more alike than he had previously thought.
Looking up, Oliver asked, “You have, haven’t you?”
“What did Henry say about me?”
“Nothing. He never said anything. He never even talked about you.”
It was only slightly a lie. His father had voiced his upset over their relationship on several occasions.
Her expression softened, and Oliver had to bite his tongue to keep himself from obliterating whatever tiny smidgeon of affection she might still have for him.
“Oliver, I came here to start a new life. It sounds like you’re trying to do the same.” She folded her hands in her lap. “If that’s the case, I suggest you forget about the ‘supposed to’s’ because, in truth, you’re supposed to take over your father’s railroad someday, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m sure you aren’t planning on running it from a shanty in rural West Virginia.”
Her comment would have been funny had it not been so painfully true.
“You’re right,” Oliver said. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“You’re welcome to visit, but I would appreciate some notice next time. I have to warn you that I will not always be so amenable to entertaining. Depending on the circumstances, sometimes I simply can’t be.”
“May I ask why?”
“No, you may not.”
“Wow, that’s some honesty.”
“I live my life as honestly as I can,” she said. “And I hope the same for you, Oliver.”
“Thanks. I think.” Oliver blew out a breath. “Are you free to chat some more right now? I had a hard morning. It would be nice to talk for a little while.”
Aunt Betty looked over at the mantlepiece clock.
“I have time.”
Oliver’s shoulders relaxed, long-held tension falling away.
“Thank you.”
For the next half hour, the two of them talked. And, God, it was nice. Oliver was suddenly so comforted to have her nearby—to have someone in his life who’d been connected with his past and was now connected to his present, too. Even though the two of them only spoke about superficial matters—pictures they had seen and books they had read—every word of their conversation still helped Oliver let go of some of the unpleasant thoughts he had been having earlier.
Eventually, Oliver noticed Aunt Betty looking at the clock again. He realized he’d better leave. After all, he had come by without a formal invitation. Aunt Betty probably had other plans.
“Well, I think I should catch a train home, then,” Oliver said, pushing himself to his feet. “And try to figure out how to muddle through the mess I’ve managed to make of my new life in less than a month.”
“You’ll figure it out. You’ve always been a smart boy.”
Her compliment pulled at his heart.
Before they parted, Oliver considered extending his hand, but that wasn’t proper etiquette, what with her being a woman and him being a man. Since an embrace seemed too familiar, especially since Oliver’s family had never been too keen on physical affection, Oliver only waved. Aunt Betty seemed mildly charmed by this, at least. Surprisingly enough, she waved back.