Page 71 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
Angelika sat down beside Will and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, letting herself imagine for a moment that they were an old married pair. “I need to apologize to you.”
He covered her knuckles with his wintery palm. “No, you don’t.”
“I sat alone with Christopher, knowing he would lay out his offer. And he did, most comprehensively.” She tipped her head sideways to look at him, but he kept his eyeline on the white cross.
“I forgive you.” A scowl formed, before he blinked it away. “You should hear all of the options available to you. You still have a choice, and you always will.”
“I always thought romance would be something like two men fighting in the dirt for me. But I realize now that being trusted, the way you trust me, feels a lot more romantic. Thank you for teaching me that lesson, and I’m sorry.”
“Are we confessing to each other?” Will waited until she nodded. “You will not like what I will tell you now. I am religious.”
Her heart sank, but she was not surprised. “How do you know? Do you remember something?”
“I feel angry when you and Victor make your little remarks about God, and those who believe. Like just before, you told me you do not believe in hell or the devil. Or now.” He nodded toward the altar. “I don’t like jokes like that.”
“We don’t mean it,” Angelika protested. “We don’t really care who thinks what.”
“I think I wake up here so often because it is a repressed urge that I cannot express in your home.”
“There’s a church in the village. You can go there.”
“A stranger suddenly appearing will only fuel gossip. They will all want to know who I am.”
Angelika could imagine the stir he would make amongst the young unmarried ladies, and their mothers. She very nearly offered to accompany him—it would be an occasion to wear extravagant outfits and hats, and to hold his muscled arm—but the offer died in her throat when she imagined her brother’s mocking. “They can mind their own business.”
“That’s not how it works in small villages. I thought you would be furious about this. We cannot tell Victor.”
“Mary is a Christian, and she lives with us. Lived,” Angelika corrected awkwardly. “She lived with us for so many years, and we let her keep her beliefs.”
“Youlether. Because she emptied your chamber pots and you did not wish to do it yourself. And she was like family. I am neither family nor servant. You surprised yourself earlier, tasking me with the apple harvest. I do not blame you. I feel like I live in a crack between worlds, and sometimes I feel like I might die inside it.” He sighed, and added softly, “But when you are with me, I go quiet inside.”
“You’re family. I promise you.” She flexed her fingers on his arm. “I was telling Christopher how I feel about you. I feel like you and I are connected. Do you agree?”
The sun was setting behind them, and shadows were sliding in like the tide. With his devout eyes trained on the cross, he replied, “Yes.”
“When I made you, I imparted a lifetime of wishes into thevery fibers of your being.” Angelika picked up his hand and entwined their fingers. “Your emotions pluck at a violin string inside me, and it vibrates and resonates until I feel what you feel, too. We are connected at a blood level.”
“It feels the same to me. And it scares me sometimes.” Will continued to stare up at the cross. “Because what would I do without you?”
“You won’t be without me.”
He paused, then asked haltingly, “And what would you do without me?”
“I’m a Frankenstein. I’d most likely die. Now we know what book you were searching for. I will give you my mother’s Bible.”
“That is most generous. I’d like to pray now. Would that be all right?”
“Of course.”
Angelika knew she should be looking straight ahead, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Will as he leaned, clasped his hands together, and exhaled like he was falling asleep. His lashes on his cheek pierced her heart. What sort of things did he wish for right now? If they were this connected, surely she could feel what he wanted so badly that his knuckles were white?
Angelika closed her eyes, too. On her lap, she held her own hand.
At first there was nothing; just the sound of leaves outside, a creak of wood, and an uncomfortable strain in her hip joint. There was the piglet’s faint snuffling. But when she concentrated harder, on the sound of her companion’s breathing, her own voice rang in her head.
Dear God.
The unfamiliar words startled her. Her eyes flew open, andthen she tried to resettle. Will’s steady presence gave her the courage to try again.
