Page 20 of A Raven Reborn

“I’m sorry,” he said through his laughter. “I couldn’t resist.” Rosalyn shook her fist threateningly, and he only laughed harder. By the time he finished, he was wiping tears from his eyes with his napkin. For some reason, his laughter warmed her heart like afternoon sun. She could never tire of it.

“Someone broke into the shop and stabbed me in our scuffle. Last night,” he continued, “I re-injured it whilst throwing a man out of the club.”

“What did he do?” Rosalyn stopped the hand that was headed to cover her mouth and forced it into her lap. He might not answer if he thought her too shocked.

“Let’s just say he broke the rules.” He lifted his spoon. “May I?”

“I suppose.” He gleefully shoved the spoon into his mouth. “Which rule did he break?”

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes suddenly a bit more solemn. “That, I can’t say, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?” She was surprised and somewhat hurt that he wouldn’t tell her something that seemed like such a simple thing.

He took one last bite and wiped the bowl clean with a bit of bread, before setting the whole thing aside. He left his chair and poured himself some brandy. When he returned, he placed a glass in front of her, as well. “What other questions do you have on that list?” he gestured toward the paper with his chin.

Rosalyn pressed the page against her stomach, suddenly embarrassed by what was written on it. She had intended to ask him the questions, but somehow it felt much more personal for him to just read them.

“Why don’t we start our game, and you are welcome to ask whatever you wish.” He pulled the cards out of his desk drawer, shuffled them, and dealt two piles, placing one in front of each of them. “I can’t promise to answer everything to your satisfaction, but I promise to be honest. Fair enough?”

Rosalyn nodded. She folded the paper and placed it back inside her pocket. She sniffed the brandy and took a small sip. The taste wasn’t displeasing, but it burned a path all the way down her throat and she coughed.

“Would you prefer something different?”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin. Never one to back down from a challenge, she stared at him as she swallowed another mouthful.

It wasn’t long before she was laughing and smiling once more, and easy conversation flowed between them. The brandy was making her brain feel slightly fuzzy. Perhaps it was best not to force the personal questions and allow them to be answered in their own time. Instead, she asked him about his favorite things.

“What is your favorite book?” Rosalyn looked at the shelves that lined the walls behind him. There must have been hundreds of books on them.

“How can a person possibly choose just one?” Patrick leaned back in his chair. “A friend of mine brought me back a copy of Moby Dick when he visited America recently.” He turned over his next card. “It’s their version of The Whale, and if I’m honest, I enjoyed it more than our version.”

“Why is that?” Rosalyn’s pile of cards was continuing to grow as the game progressed.

“Well, for one thing, it has an epilogue the British version lacks, which helps the story make much more sense.”

Rosalyn nodded. She’d never read either one, so she would just have to assume he was correct.

“What about you?” Patrick asked, finally collecting two cards. “What’s your favorite?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I last indulged in reading anything besides scriptures.”

Patrick tilted his head to the side. “Why is that?”

“At first, books just weren’t really something we could afford.” Rosalyn’s cheeks warmed as humiliation crept in. Surrounded by such luxury, what must he think of her? But when she looked up into his eyes, there was no judgment there, only compassion.

“And?” he asked, but she didn’t understand the question. “You said, ‘at first’.”

“Oh.” She’d been so distracted by her embarrassment, she’d lost track of her own thoughts. “And then, when my mother married her current husband,” Rosalyn paused, not wanting to say the rest. “He confiscated my books and burned most of them.”

“What?” Patrick’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“He believes that a woman’s time shouldn’t be spent reading. If she truly has nothing else to do, then she should be on her knees, in prayer.” She shrugged. “He didn’t get all of my books, though,” she said with a triumphant smile. “I managed to sneak just one, A Christmas Carol. I’ve read it countless times, so I suppose it’s my favorite.”

Patrick smiled and nodded approvingly. “We need to christen your mother’s husband with a name befitting of his character. Perhaps Ebenezer? Or Scrooge?”

“Oh no.” Rosalyn shook her head. “Ebenezer Scrooge finds redemption in the end.”

Amusement filled Patrick’s eyes as he chuckled. “Perhaps something more generic then. Villain? Reprobate, perhaps?”

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