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Chapter Text

Whitby, 19 August.

My dearest, Arthur, 

Oh, how thrilling it is to write those words! I blush seeing them drying on the page. I wonder if the feeling is shared. Enough blushing, though, for I have news. 

Today, Mina looked happier than I’d seen her in several weeks, and what an awful thing that is because she has every right to be so happy every day of her life, without the anxiety that clings to her now. The reason for rejoicing is that she just received a letter from a nun in a hospital bearing news of her fiancé, who should have arrived here from a business trip weeks ago. 

She has already written all about it in her journal, and I shall confess that I snuck a peek at the words, which I was unable to parse, for they were written entirely in shorthand! Foiled as my snooping was, I can surmise with confidence what her intentions are. In her excited effusion, she mentioned something her fiancé’s employer noted to her – that it is much easier to travel together when one’s union is legally recognized. She is going to travel across the continent to reunite with him, and when she returns to England, it will be as a married woman. 

I know you are meant to be visiting here soon, but it pains me to tell you that I won’t be here to plan our wedding with you. I pray you understand that, as Mina’s best friend, I cannot bear to miss her wedding even if it may be more of an elopement. 

I write all this to hopefully reassure you of my integrity and commitment to our engagement, but tied with my wish to be your wife – my heart stuttered just now after writing those two words – is my need to be my dear Mina’s Maid of Honour. You must understand the latter is an incredibly urgent matter. 

I must also ask a favour of you, which is terrible because I am already asking so much, and that is to cover for my absence while I am away. I have left a note to my mother that plans have changed, which is honest, and that I will be with you in Ring, which is half-truthful, for I will be there in my heart and mind and soul, thinking of you every day as I hand my best friend off to the love of her life. 

LUCY. 

P.S.—When you respond, as I hope you will, please address it to the Hospital of St. Joseph and Ste. Mary in Buda-Pesth. That is the address I glimpsed just now, seeing the letter Mina has only just set down to begin packing for her trip.

Chapter Text

Hull, 20 August. 

My dearest, Arthur,

I write again, having not yet heard from you since we have not yet reached our destination, and it is too soon for you to have even received the first letter I sent. Since you are aiding me in my trickery – I trust you are – I thought you deserved to know the particulars of my plan. 

Today, I escorted Mina to the train station. Now, you have not yet met her, but you must know nervousness is not like Mina; she is the most resolute person I know. All the same, I could feel her hands trembling in mine as we waited for her train to arrive. To occupy herself, she was listing off the full train schedule for that day, a common habit of hers, now turned frantic. Then, something caught her eye: the ribbon around my neck was askew. She remedied the issue by retying it entirely, her shaky hands steadying for this small task. She’s a wonderful woman, finding relief in helping others and always keeping up an appearance of needing no help herself. Embarrassed as I was that my appearance had been so sloppy in public, I was glad that fixing my haphazard bow was able to calm her nerves. 

As the train came in, Mina gave me a fleeting kiss on the top of my head and ran to board. I hesitated for but a moment. After all, I knew that I was not invited, nor was I permitted by my mother to leave the country to join Mina for her elopement. What kept me from backing down was the letter I’d already sent to you, for as much guilt as I may feel for springing this plan on you so suddenly, I would feel multitudes more selfish to have caused such a fuss over nothing. It is you who encourages me to commit to my ambitions, and I am ever so grateful. 

Mina was stunned to see me board after her and immediately scolded me for doing such a brash thing. I did not take it to heart, knowing that, as an assistant schoolmistress, it is nearly instinctual for her to lecture young ladies on what is and is not socially acceptable. Catching herself doing just that, she backed down and made space beside her for me to sit. 

With glee, I recounted my wicked plan to Mina, and her distress at my cunning was paired with a tentative relief at my being there. When I told her my motive, that I wouldn’t miss her wedding for the world, happy tears sprang from her eyes. She folded me against her chest and insisted that I needn’t go so far out of my way for her, and I assured her that that response is precisely why I went ahead and did it. 

You see, Mina is far too kind for her own good. I know that had I waited for her to ask me to support her, she never would have. Meanwhile, I have rarely had to request a single thing from Mina in our years of friendship; she will simply intuit and do it unsolicited because that is the amazingly generous woman she is. 

I am infinitely grateful that I thought up this plan so that I can resemble even half the steadfast friend she is. Proof that I did the right thing was in the warmth of her hands as she cradled mine and finally admitted to the apprehension and melancholy that had burdened her all this time. I had felt an echo of it myself, waiting for you to visit, but that whole time, I had Mina to comfort and guide me through it, while she only allowed me to console her once. 

It all makes me think back to something a new friend said to me: that a friend is rarer and less selfish than a lover. I don’t know if I fully agree, for there is something of the egoist in me driving me to be here for Mina rather than where social conventions dictate I should be. I do believe that one is not greater than the other, and that is why I had to do this, even if it may have taken away time that would have been spent with you. I assume that you, so kind and bright as you are and as true a friend you have been, will agree. 

LUCY. 

Chapter Text

Ring, 21 August.

My dearest, Lucy, 

I confess that the thrill is mutual, both in reading your address to me and my address to you. 

I understand you fully. From what you have spoken and written of Mina, it is evident to me that she is a giving woman most deserving of a Maid of Honour at her wedding, and who better to serve that role than you? I will have you know that, were the timing not so urgent, I would have said yes to you travelling with her regardless. I only regret that I cannot be with you in your travels, though I suspect my presence would be quite jarring at such an intimate event, having not yet met Mina or her fiancé.

I shall grant you the favour you ask for. In all honesty, calling it a favour is unfair because it is an honour to aid you in so noble a cause. I will keep up the façade here with the hope that you will send another letter soon telling me everything. That is, everything you deem appropriate for me to know. I’m afraid I seem overly forward because reading your excitement for your friend has sparked mirroring excitement in me, even as an outsider. 

I do believe I have heard that phrasing before. Perhaps from the same friend? Selflessness is indeed something to be cherished in relationships of all kinds, but I believe what gives the act value is one’s complete willingness to put another’s wants and needs above one’s own. One cannot prescribe kindness to a selfless act if they were made to do it begrudgingly. In this way, selflessness is a form of selfishness, though a wholesome kind.

ARTHUR. 

P.S.—I hope you will not mind that I shared your plan with my father. He found it concerning that I had cancelled on Whitby and would not take my excuse of wanting to stay to care for him in light of my being so eager to see you previously. I’m afraid he might have thought I was getting cold feet. He was especially charmed by your scheme and told me that it was a shame you weren’t truly staying with us because he would very much like to meet you. I asked him not to speak a word of this to anyone, and of course, he laughed and asked who I thought he was going to gossip to while confined to his bed. I cannot be blamed for my overcautiousness, as I know he has his methods. 

Buda-Pesth, 27 August.

My dearest, Arthur,

It is a blessing to hear from you. Your support multiplies my confidence tenfold. Everything feels so blessed, now. I suppose that is the intended consequence of staying in a convent, if you will pardon my joking.  

Alas, you are right. There are indeed many things which feel inappropriate to tell, even as I dread secret-keeping, especially from one so beloved to me as you. But, as fate would have it, I found a little book and saw this to be the perfect occasion for starting my own diary in the mimicry of Mina. I’ve written down everything since we arrived and will continue writing until you and I reunite. Once we are married, I will have you read it all. 

LUCY.

P.S.—Sending hugs and kisses your father’s way. He sounds like a delightful man.

Chapter Text

Buda-Pesth, 23 August. 

Jonathan was deathly pale when we arrived at the hospital, and that hasn’t changed in the short time we’ve been here. The nearly grey pallor of his skin hardly stands out against the white bandages covering his forearms and neck. The humble confidence he held himself with when he left for his trip is gone, replaced with confused mumbling. He stares, but it doesn’t seem like he sees anything, at least, not anything right in front of him. It frightens me to see even now, as I’m writing this down. The only other time I have seen a face like that was worn by my late father during his last days. 

I mustn’t think of that now. Lingering on such dreadful thoughts will only make Jonathan’s condition worse and sabotage his recovery. He will get better. He must, for Mina. 

His hair is long, like he had it in his youth, but his jet black locks are peppered with stressful strands of white. One look at his face shows how far he’s lost himself: he’s grown a beard! The thick facial hair covers up his gaunt face as best as it can, but it cannot hide how his cheekbones protrude now that his once plump cheeks are sunken. The poor dear hasn’t been eating for a long time, or simply hasn’t had the chance to. 

It reminds me of that strict diet Mother had me on when I was younger. In hindsight, confining eating to trimmer portions isn’t much of a diet in and of itself, and while I lost some of the weight Mother wanted me to, I fainted far too often for her worried heart to bear. Sometimes, she still reminisces about that time, musing on what a shame it is that I’m not thinner anymore. I’ve learned it is not worth an argument to remind her why being thinner wasn’t worth the toil. 

Being hungry all the time was painful, but I recall the greatest struggle was learning how to eat again. If there’s any comfort to be had seeing Jonathan in such a state, it’s knowing that Mina and I will be here to help him through that struggle. I pray for him to recognize we are here soon.

… 

I’m too upset for anything else, so I fear I must write. 

Mina was crying after speaking with Sister Agatha, the lovely nun who delivered the news of Jonathan’s reappearance in the first place. I tried to get her to talk to me, but she hid her face away and told me it was nothing. I said it couldn’t be nothing because I know Mina, and Mina never lets herself cry over anything, much less nothing. She laughed a little at that, and I took the opening and pushed further, asking if it was something the nun had said. 

“It’s more about what she didn’t say,” Mina replied, her voice indignant. “I cannot possibly soothe my Jonathan if I don’t know the cause of his distress. She knows the cause, but when I inquire, she crosses herself and says it is only for God to know. We are soon to be one in the eyes of God, why should anything of my husband be kept from me?”

As she was saying all this, I was sitting beside her, rubbing her back to ease her through her frustrations. Suddenly, she winced away from my touch. Again, I asked her what was amiss.

“I shouldn’t be speaking this callously to you,” Mina asserted. “What an awful example I am setting for you.”

I couldn’t help but scowl. Why must everything be a lesson? I reminded her that I am not a young girl she is tutoring, but her friend. She retorted that, regardless, her anger was senseless, and I insisted to her that it wasn’t, that I thought her anger made perfect sense. 

Her face lit up with hope as she looked at me. “You truly think so?”

“I do!” I confirmed. “You want to help Jonathan. You feel the best way to help him is to know what went wrong and fix it with your classic Mina methods. Sister Agatha knows but won’t tell you because of her Catholic superstitions. This secret-keeping is getting in the way of your problem-solving. Of course, you’re upset! But it isn’t out of any ill will toward the nuns, just your love for him in another form.”

Mina’s usually all-knowing eyes blinked at me in befuddlement. “Why, you just laid everything out perfectly, didn’t you?”

Allowing myself a little pride, I replied: “I can be very perceptive if you would give me the chance to be.”

She beamed and opened her mouth to speak, but there was something that gave her pause. Conflict washed over her face. “It is not right for me to be so upset with Sister Agatha.” I tried to assure her that experiencing these feelings was fine, but she cut me off. “No, it isn’t that. I am a hypocrite.” I stared at her, bewildered, and she continued: “Here I am, griping to you that the sister knows pertinent information and is keeping it from me, and yet… Lucy, there is something I should tell you. Something I made a promise not to tell, but that was wrong for me to have kept from you all this time.” 

I asked her what that something was. 

“A few days after your sleepwalking took you out of the house, your mother… She took me aside and told me that she is ill.”

Dread pooled in my gut. Shakily, I told her that I knew.

“You do?”

I gripped my skirts and nodded, feeling incredibly small all of a sudden. “Mother has always been ill. It’s her poor, sensitive heart. It’s been this way since Father…” I trailed off, unable to finish the thought because I knew instinctively that wasn’t what Mina had meant.

Mina placed her two steady hands on my shoulders and looked me firmly in the eyes. “Yes, but it is very dire now, Lucy. She told me, after you’d gotten the news from Arthur that his father had blessed your engagement, that she had spoken to a doctor and only has a few months left to live.”

I am ashamed to admit it even to these pages, but at that moment, I was upset with Mina. I wanted to cry and scream and demand she explain how she could keep such an awful thing from me. And why would Mother not tell me? Why would she tell her? Why did Mina have the right to know the span of my mother’s life and not I? How could Mina, my truest friend, have been lying to me all this time?

Blessedly, I was able to swallow my crude feelings on the matter. It is all so unfair, isn’t it? I cannot allow myself to be mad at my friend any longer. After all, what advantage could she possibly have gained in keeping this secret? What could such an omission grant her other than a guilty conscience? 

Much like the child I insisted I wasn’t, I wanted to throw myself into Mina’s arms and cry until I had no more tears, but I excused myself from the room, no doubt breaking my friend’s already aching heart. I only did so because I couldn’t trust myself not to throw a fit around her, who was undeserving of any more stress. 

It isn’t right at all. I had thought our stay at Whitby was to help Mother get better, that the ocean breeze would be good for her lungs, that my getting married shortly would ease her fragile heart, but all that done, and she is sure to die, and soon? That she wouldn’t tell me and would tell Mina instead hurts most of all. 

But then again, we’ve been keeping secrets from her, as well. The day Arthur sent news of his father’s approval was just a few days after I had sleepwalked a great distance. I suppose caution makes hypocrites of us all. I had bade Mina not to tell Mother of my sleepwalking, and of course, I would never have told her myself, out of fear that it would upset her. Surely, that is the same reason Mother was dishonest with me. Surely, it was only for my sake…

Chapter Text

24 August. 

I found Mina this morning, and she looked quite at peace with herself since we last spoke, perhaps even joyful as she brushed the sleeping Jonathan’s neglected hair. When she saw me at the door, she called me over and bade me sit next to her. Apologies bubbled up out of me for how I acted yesterday, but she simply patted my head and said it was all right. 

She told me that Sister Agatha had opened the subject of Jonathan’s troubles with her again, and though she still wasn’t as forthcoming as Mina would have liked, she did assure Mina that there was no unfaithfulness on Jonathan’s part that she needed to worry about. 

“What a ludicrous concern!” she laughed. “That my Jonathan would have fallen in with some other woman!”

I found the idea quite ridiculous as well. I remarked that perhaps these quaint nuns knew much less of Jonathan than they purported if they thought his fidelity to her was ever in question. Mina tittered in agreement, saying she took pride in knowing that the jealousy the sister had expected from her had never crossed her mind. 

I was elated to see her in good spirits. Again, I tried to apologize for my immaturity, but Mina rebuked the apology. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Lucy. I am sorry. I would have never kept that terrible news from you if your mother had not sworn me into secrecy. I didn’t think it was my right to even know, let alone tell another. But seeing my Jonathan in such a state and knowing there are things that I don’t know that are being kept from me… I couldn’t bear to take the secret any further. It was cruel. If you can ever forgive me—”

I threw my arms around her and told her that, of course, I forgave her, and the transgression might as well have been forgotten completely. 

…

It is a miracle! Just now, Jonathan seemed more lucid, like he was finally seeing Mina for the first time. He spoke her name so sweetly, and when his and Mina’s hands touched, it was as if his whole mind and body lit up with recognition. They kissed each other deeply, and I was filled with a shameful sense of jealousy watching them, feeling very much like a ghost in the corner. 

When Jonathan’s gaze landed on me, it was as if he had seen one. He blinked three times, and after the third blink, he let out a wheezing sigh. I hadn’t realized how much uncertainty still weighed upon his features until our eyes met, and it was all gone. 

“Lucille,” he breathed.

My name sounded so much like a prayer coming from his lips, I couldn’t help but rush to his side next to Mina and take the hand that wasn’t already occupied by hers. He laughed – and what a poor, whistling laugh it was – as he lifted my hand to press a light kiss to my knuckles. Beside me, Mina kissed me on the temple. I could almost weep, being with my two friends again at last. 

“This is a devil’s trick,” Jonathan said very quietly, as if to himself. “You two are like angels.”

“Why would the devil send angels, silly?”

With that, he laughed hard enough that he began to cry, and it tore at my heart. Too forward for my own good, I wiped a tear from his cheek as Mina bent down and tenderly kissed the rest away.

Once he calmed down, there was a change in him, and he asked for his coat. I was tempted to tease that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of getting up and walking out of the hospital in his dishevelled state, but Mina bade me to find Sister Agatha. I told the nun about the request, and we brought all his things into the room. Mina’s attention settled on a pocketbook — Jonathan’s journal, I presume — but for whatever reason, she hesitated to inquire about it, and Jonathan abruptly requested a moment alone. 

…

I felt like a voyeur just now when he called us back and spoke what were the most beautiful vows I have ever heard to Mina. I blush at the idea of writing them down, though they certainly deserve to be recorded and enshrined in memory. Nonetheless, I believe that is what Mina’s journal is for. 

He spoke about his writing and his ensuing brain fever, and it seemed so unlikely to me that a self-described madman could be so articulate with his words. Still, perhaps it is that love is so powerful as to cut through the fog of his madness and bring peace and clarity where there was once only fear and confusion. 

And then, Mina deemed the journal a gift that she would never open and wrapped it as such with paper and the blue ribbon from her neck, showing Jonathan the beautiful wrapping as a promise that she would be true to him. 

I can hardly handle all this sweetness! Arrangements are being made! They are to be wed today!

…

I was all sniffly when they were finally wed, and being that I was the only true wedding guest, I stuck out like a sore thumb. And when they kissed, at last united in the eyes of the Lord, how I wanted to clap! Thankfully, I was able to restrain myself from spoiling the beautiful moment with my theatrics. 

What made it even more lovely was when the couple looked at me, and it was like some odd spell had been broken, and I was being brought into the scene. Mina handed me the small bouquet the nuns had made for her with the certitude and grace that she always held herself with, but that was so much more vibrant now that she and Jonathan were finally married. The words she spoke to me then were so sweet: a prayer that I will soon feel the joy that she has, and for the rest of my life. I wanted to kiss her right then – and kiss Jonathan so he wouldn’t be left out, of course – but I restrained myself, considering that such a juvenile show of affection would be inappropriate at the wedding of my two friends. 

Right after their austere wedding, Jonathan went right back to his nap, this time with a fatigued smile plastered on his lips. Mina is writing down her account of the entire thing. She grinned at me just earlier when she saw me take out my notebook and commented on how nice it was to see me starting a journal. I replied that I was only striving to imitate the greats. She snorted and shook her head, insisting wrongfully that she was not great. I then suggested that, maybe, she could teach me shorthand so I could truly be a professional like her, and again, she laughed:—

“Your lovely penmanship is too precious a skill to sacrifice for the brevity of shorthand.”

Of course, she was right. Although I have to be careful about writing openly – my left hand has always been more blessed than the right – I cannot afford to cease practicing my calligraphy, lest it devolve out of my laziness. After all, a lady’s handwriting is one of the few things she may pride herself on. Besides that concern, I must also share this diary with Arthur when we are wed, and I don’t believe he knows any shorthand. Though I suppose it might suit him for the same reason he enjoys sending telegrams so much, instead of letters. He’s confessed before that sometimes letters get jumbled in his head as he’s trying to read or write. I wonder if he’d have any less trouble with a different system of writing altogether.

Chapter Text

24 August. 

I hardly know how to recount all that has happened. Joy overtakes my senses. Were Lucy not here, I would find greater ease composing myself and telling it all to her in a letter, but what is there to tell when she witnessed the wedding herself? Especially knowing as I know now that she has taken to writing in a diary of her own. 

When I confessed this impediment to her, she revealed that there was much she didn’t write down as she felt it was more appropriate for my account. Thus, it is my responsibility to commit such things to paper. 

It was frightening for me, seeing Jonathan so unwell when we first came here. Under different circumstances, I would not dare to let my thoughts linger on such doubt. However, I feel secure in admitting that passing fear after seeing how affected Lucy was, as though she has validated my warring emotions by embodying them.

When Lucy first set eyes on Jonathan, her whole body seized up as though in dreadful anticipation. It put me in mind of when we were in Whitby, and she saw that poor, kicked dog and was held frozen with grief for the pup. I felt poorly for her, but when I attempted to soothe her, she suddenly came back to herself and told me with a strange intensity that Jonathan was going to get better. Lucy is not wont to lie, and certainly not with such conviction, so I had no choice but to cease my worrying and instead look forward to Jonathan’s return to consciousness with brimming excitement. 

Of course, that excitement was impaired when I spoke to Sister Agatha, who rejected my attempts to find out what troubled Jonathan so deeply that he would become bedridden with madness. Yet again, I had Lucy at my side, gently prodding at me to admit the sour emotions I had been feeling. Not just to her, but to myself as well. All this honesty made it easier to confess to my knowledge of her mother’s illness, which she predictably reacted poorly to, but immediately, she forgave me with a kindness I did not deserve.

Just as soon as she forgave me, it seemed whatever sickness held my darling Jonathan captive broke just enough that he came to and recognized me. 

“Wilhelmina, you know, dear, my ideas of the trust between a husband and wife: there should be no secret, no concealment.”

Beside me, Lucy looked rather pleased with that, for it is a sentiment that she shares deeply. If not for the solemnity of the occasion, I would have liked to tease her for it. 

“I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is, I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You know that I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad.” He set his hand on the journal. “The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage. Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know; unless, indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here.”

In that moment, I felt relieved that Sister Agatha had refused to tell me what she knew. Whatever it was that caused Jonathan’s brain fever, I did not want to hear it from a stranger, no matter how kind and sympathetic. I wanted to hear it from him, or else read it in his hand. And now that he has trusted me with this tome of his, I will not read it, unless, indeed, some dire circumstances compel me to.

Chapter Text

25 August.

As I feared, Jonathan isn’t taking food very well. Just earlier, Mina was feeding him, and I suppose he was trying his best to eat it all to appease her, but the moment she excused herself to return the dishes, he became very sick and made a mess. No nuns were immediately near, and I was desperate to be of assistance, so I cleaned up. 

As I was washing up, Jonathan looked at me with a mix of gratitude and guilt in his eyes. “Please, don’t tell Mina.” I asked him why not, and he explained: “She’ll feel terribly about herself and believe that she caused this, but it wasn’t her fault, it was mine.”

I pressed a damp towel to his temples, dabbing away at his sweaty forehead. Keeping Mina from having sour feelings about herself was a noble cause, but secret-keeping was not the way. “It’s not anyone’s fault. She’ll understand you just ate too much.”

He got a sour look on his face, and I was heartened to see he was well enough to muster such a petulant pout. “But how could I have eaten too much? I’m still so hungry…”

“You have been hungry for a long time, haven’t you?” He looked rather put upon by the question and hesitated to answer despite its simplicity. After a moment’s pause, he nodded. “I think… that you’ve forgotten how to be full. That is alright. You just need to be more careful.”

Jonathan still looked very upset with himself, but he smiled just for me. “I didn’t know you were an aspiring doctor.”

I huffed. “Hush, you. I can only figure how you’re toiling because I’ve dealt with it myself.” He was confused, so I explained my Mother’s attempts at getting me to lose weight and how hard it was to get myself to eat once we’d given up on that. Even now that I can physically handle the task of dining, guilt sometimes still creeps up on me for being a “glutton”, as though every small bite I afford myself makes me a lesser person. 

Jonathan’s poor face twisted up with dismay at my story, and he apologized to me, though he had no reason to. I assured him it was fine now.

“No, it isn’t. Why should you have ever had to go hungry, Lucy?”

I frowned. “Why should anyone?”

“Well, it makes sense for me. I’m poor,” he snarked, and I couldn’t help but giggle. I asked what in the world that was supposed to mean, and he elaborated: “My allowance became my wage when I moved into a flat and began working for Mr. Hawkins officially. Though, in hindsight, it’s very generous to call it a wage when it was… pocket money, practically. I sunk it all into rent and didn’t want to take advantage of Mr. Hawkins’ hospitality too much, so I learned how to… budget with food.” He laughed that awful whistly laugh again, and I cringed in pity. “Mina eventually saw the squalor I was living in and kindly told me I needed to grow up and ask for a raise.”

“This trip wasn’t the raise, was it?” I asked, worried about the answer.

His eyes went wide with surprise. “Oh, no! No, that was years ago, and blessingly, my asking for a raise then did not have such dire consequences as I was expecting. No, this was a promotion, one meant to expedite my and Mina’s marriage.” He chortled, remarking that it had done just that, but not as they could have ever anticipated.

I questioned why he would ever move out of Mr. Hawkins’ house if it cost so much to do so, and I regretted that question immediately, seeing what a dark cloud it brought over his face. 

“I couldn’t take advantage of his kindness any more than I already had.”

“Take advantage?” I repeated, baffled. “You weren’t taking advantage! Weren’t you his ward?”

“Yes, and a ward must emancipate himself from his guardian sooner rather than later.” I felt myself growing uneasy at his harsh intonation. He spat out the hard consonants like the words tasted sour in his mouth, and his breath grew staggered and stifled his words as he went on: “I w-was lucky that he extended the kindness of offering me an official job wh-when he could have just as well turned me away and onto the streets. I owed it to him not to make myself any more of a hin-hin-hindrance than I’d already been.”

“A hindrance? He was responsible for you.”

“He never asked for that obligation. He was just-just stuck with me. It’s wrong for me to expect anything from him — it’s not as if I am his son.”

His bitter tone shocked me. “Oh, Joni…”

New tears sprang from his eyes, and he began to sob. Quickly, while not knowing what to do, I hugged him and promised him that he was not a burden to anyone. Not to Mr. Hawkins, not to these kindly nuns, not to Mina—

“Not even to you?”

Without hesitation, I answered: “No, Joni, I love you. You’re one of my dearest friends.” I pulled away so I could look him in the eye. “I wish I could have helped make growing up easier on you.” I would have invited him to eat every day if I had known he was so hungry. If Mother had not developed such a strange scorn for him out of nowhere, wanting him out of my life so our closeness wouldn’t discourage potential suitors…

He gave me a watery smile. “I wish I could have grown up in a way that wouldn’t have meant we’d become so distant.” 

He said such a thing as though it was some great fault of his that he was a man. Meanwhile, I could have been born a boy, and the two of us would have been thick as thieves all our lives, though I imagine that would have made things greatly awkward for Mina. Not to mention Arthur…

Resolute, I told him I was here, now. He held my hand so tightly then, as though testing to make sure it was absolutely true.

And so, I convinced him to be forthcoming, and we came clean to Mina about him not stomaching the food he’d eaten when she returned to the room. She fretted over him, but it seemed that my assurance that he was simply too sick to eat very much eased any self-blame she would have otherwise had. She kissed Jonathan and bid him to get his rest so they may try again when his stomach had settled. 

Once Jonathan was sleeping, Mina turned to me and told me that my presence was a godsend to have during this trying time. When I tried to minimize my contributions, she simply laughed and kissed me sweetly. 

…

Jonathan cries in his sleep, the poor thing. It’s very subtle, like the dreamy whimpering of a pup. It takes no more than Mina’s warm touch on his head for him to stir and then return to sleep more peacefully than before, but it’s pitiful to see him in such distress even briefly. 

Rather carelessly, I asked Mina if it was like that when I was sleepwalking. The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long moment before she answered that, yes, it was very similar. It only took more effort to get me back to bed without startling me out of my sleep. 

I couldn’t help but stare at the bandages around Jonathan’s throat. I inquired if those might be stifling his breathing. Mina answered that she didn’t think so, and I asked what if they were? Shouldn’t they be taken off? She gave me a concerned look and told me that the nuns change his bandages often. I asked, then, did she know what they were for?

Mina asked if all was well, and I wanted to answer truthfully, yet had no clue what the truth was. Something about the bandages on his neck in particular distressed me and filled me with the desire to unravel them to see what they were hiding. When I failed to respond, Mina gently took my hand in hers and explained that Jonathan scratched himself very badly, and the bandages were there to keep the self-inflicted wounds protected from his roughly bitten nails. 

Just the thought makes my neck itch in sympathy.