Page 57 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
He stood there in the hall after she closed the door, listening for the sound of her locking it. The sound never came, and he didn’t turn the key on his side either.
Trust
The facade of Violet Thistlewaite had begun to grow tattered, and the thorns of her past were beginning to snag on the weave. The truth was that her conversation with Nathaniel had shaken loose something she normally kept screwed tight. It didn’t take much to understand that he’d allowed Violet to see a part of him he showed to few people, and she wanted to return the favor.
He would understand.
He would still care for her if he knew.
Wouldn’t he?
Her doubt hovered over her like a storm cloud all day. Whether he knew what he asked for or not, by trying to get close to her, Nathaniel was asking for her truth. She wasn’t sure she could act on her feelings without giving it to him. But could he be trusted with her past? Could anyone?
Another of Guy’s aphorisms came to her.Even secrets told at a whisper grow wings, petal. We must clip their feathers by never letting them fly from our mouths and shoot down any birds that take to the skies.
She couldn’t help the part of her that still believed him to be right.
“You’re distracted today,” said Jerome. “More’n usual. Mind, you’re not the most attentive shopkeeper I’ve met even on a good day.”
He’d shown up bright and early with his toolbox to fulfill his promise to fix her door.
“Tea with milk, and I like me eggs scrambled, not fried,” he’d said by way of greeting.
Violet hadn’t argued, just gone upstairs to make him breakfast. The ache in her hands was growing worse, the sort of raw, chapped feeling that made every movement uncomfortable, especially magic, so doing something as mundane as making eggs and toast for Jerome was a welcome distraction. Violet liked the old gnome; his blunt gruffness was a respite from some of the others in Dragon’s Rest—as kind as they could be, Violet wasn’tusedto their friendly drop-bys or kindly invitations to get-togethers (or Pru’s recent plans of breaking and entering at Shadowfade Castle on a “book rescue mission”). Her instincts insisted they wanted something from her, but Jerome was about as direct and undiplomatic as a person could be, and she found that strangely comforting.
“Just thinking,” Violet replied now. “Have you ever had a secret?”
He took a leisurely sip of his tea and studied her carefully. “Sure.”
“Is there ever a right time to share it with someone?”
“S’pose that depends on the secret, and what’s at risk in the telling.”
“Quite a bit,” she admitted.
“And what’s the cost of keeping it to yourself?”
Violet slumped against the wall. “Also quite a bit.”
Jerome turned back to his work, measuring out where to realign the hinge in the jamb. Violet almost thought he’d abandoned the conversation when he said, “Everyone’s got secrets, just as everyone’s got a past.” He held a mouthful of nails between his lips so it came out slightly garbled. “We’re none of us the people we once were, but it’s still scary letting others through that gate. But those that’re worth it, they’ll let you know. Might be in different ways than you expect, but they’ll show you that they’re worthy of your trust.”
“How?” Bartleby snuck a vine into her hair; she only caught him seconds before he hacked off a sizable lock with the pruning shears he’d stolenagain.“I will prune you until you don’thavevines anymore,” she warned him, and he retreated.
Jerome spit out the rest of the nails, chuckling. “I s’pose trust comes from the way they make you feel part of their circle. The way they make you feel safe.” He eyed the pothos with mild, almost-amused derision. “Safe like leaving your hair be and not hoarding weaponry.”
“You can imagine why it’s difficult for me,” she said dryly, gesturing to Bartleby, who froze at the attention, trying desperately to look like he wasn’t in the process of pilfering a few fallen nails. She sighed, mentally tasking herself with disarming him later, and massaged her hands.
Did Violet feel safe around Nathaniel? She wasn’t sure she really knew the meaning of the word or if it was something she felt aroundanyone.
“I’ll take another cuppa if you’re just going to stand there,” said Jerome, jerking her from her thoughts. She took his empty mug and went upstairs to fetch him some more tea.
Long after he’d left, her door now hanging straight and proud on its hinges, the conversation swam in Violet’s head. Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever had cause to truly trust anyone.
Your mother saw who you truly are and she abandoned you, Guy had told her.
You are so lucky I found you, petal.
The rest of the world may fear you, but you will always have a home with me.
