Dankovsky quickly receives the reply, cheerfully opening the envelope with a knife. Once he checks the letter within, he blinks down at the marked page, confused by its nature. Slowly, very slowly, his face loses color. He has to hold himself up against the wall of his home with an arm, feeling his legs weakening. His eyes are wide and he can barely pay attention to the translation, clearly written out using a typewriter.
He is mortified. Beyond embarrassed. How could he have forgotten?! He had spent an absurd amount of time neatly writing out each letter of that message, proud of having acquired a proper pen for calligraphy. He wanted to make a good impression on a lady he cared for, and all he managed to do was appear a complete and utter fool!
And now that he's reading the letter, he's even more struck by her gentleness, the polite wording of a letter she should not have bothered to write him. Dankovsky honestly didn't think he could make the meeting, now. The shame was eating him alive. How could he face her after this humiliation?
Lord! Someone, end him!
--
Of course, he makes the meeting. He is very determined not to embarrass himself any further, in spite of everything, and not showing up would only add to his shame of having neglected to remember such an important detail about her.
Helena, ignorant of his strife, is there - content and serene, with a teapot before her and two cups. Her cane at her side, she leans forward and takes the lid off the pot, breathing in the scent before placing it back on. It could use a little more time. And hearing footsteps approach her, she waits to see if they'll stop at her table.
"Ms. Adams," Dankovsky greets with a bow, out of habit. "I see you've arrived early."
And she's already gotten everything ready, too... oh, what a terrible, embarrassing friend he is. Dankovsky sits himself across Helena, crossing a leg over the other under the table.
"Oh, it was very well. We had to fix a certain part at the printing shop - I could hear it was getting out of alignment, but Mr. Keay said the fix was very simple, though he wanted to do it himself. Other than that, it was quite quiet, though I have been wondering more and more where I should move, when I leave the inn. Living on one's own is a thrilling prospect, but I often wonder if I shouldn't ask someone if they would be open to sharing. Provided they could keep things neat."
She's been mulling on it off and on ever since Cassandra brought up solutions to her particular problems.
Dankovsky likes hearing about the mundane day to day events of Helena's life. She has a talent for storytelling. Or maybe it's just her aura that makes her easy to chat with. In any case, he hums at her story.
"My day was nothing to speak of. I... well, my life has been quite chaotic, as of recently. I've made a few misguided choices..."
Thankfully, she can't see the blush on his cheeks. Perhaps, however, she can hear the embarrassed tone in his voice. He decides to quickly change the subject:
"Who would you ask, then? I've no doubt in my mind you would make for an enjoyable housemate."
She smiles, and while her eyes cannot see, they can still reflect her feelings well enough.
"It depends on which of my friends are open to it. My sister has long since departed the island, and my brother arrived before me - he already has someone he's living with. And the one person I would have asked without question, her house is full. But I am in no hurry, since it's winter - I can wait until spring to undergo all the fuss and bother of it."
"She took the ferry back. No one really knows why," she says softly, thankfully oblivious to Dankovsky's thoughts. "Only that she left a note, saying she had to deal with something. Wherever Erin's gone, it was so important that she didn't even say goodbye."
A pause, before she continues.
"It happens sometimes. People go to the docks in the middle of the night, and the ferry takes them away, without a true word to anyone."
Helena makes her sibling's departure sound less like a voluntary decision, and more like an event following a demonic possession. Dankovsky would at least say goodbye to the few people he appreciates, if he were to leave.
That Erin did not even bother seems to rub the Bachelor the wrong way. He has no siblings to speak of, yet he knows he would not simply leave one behind without a word.
"I'm sorry about that," he says quietly. "That does not sound like a pleasant experience."
"She'll come back, doctor. I know she will. Or else I shall have to set out to somehow find her, when it is possible."
Without a clear plan, this may seem foolishly optimistic. But to keep going on front of insurmountable odds is what she's used to. Hope cannot die, not in her world. Not in her.
"The tea's brewed long enough. I would offer to pour for you, but it's a little difficult."
Dankovsky takes the teapot and serves them both, unable to take his mind off of Helena's words.
"I must say, I admire your confidence."
Once he's done, he rests the teapot back to the center of the table and sits back, bringing his cup to his lips and smelling its aroma.
"I wish I was as steadfast as you are, really." He pauses, and eventually admits, "...have I already told you about the farm I've picked up, Ms. Adams?"
One of Martin's winter blends, there's a touch of spice to the black tea, to warm the drinker in this time. It brings winter to mind, but in a familiar sense.
"You have not, but that's remarkable. You're quite the talented man, Doctor - medicine and farming."
Helena's lips quirk up in a smile, catching the pun. Her tone is as warm as the tea, taking the news of it being impulsive in stride.
"The worst that can happen is that you determine you're not cut out for it, and change professions again. But you might find something unusual you have a knack for instead. I know I sound almost senselessly optimistic, when I say that, but...take it in the light of someone who thought for a time she might not find something that she could do to be of true use to others."
Even this job with Gerry isn't where her life will be. But she remembers the faith that her sister has, that Raven has, that Security has in her. Slowly, the wounds are closing. Slowly, she is growing.
"I know that it's not the only measure of a person, but...being able to do that, like anyone else, matters a great deal."
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He is mortified. Beyond embarrassed. How could he have forgotten?! He had spent an absurd amount of time neatly writing out each letter of that message, proud of having acquired a proper pen for calligraphy. He wanted to make a good impression on a lady he cared for, and all he managed to do was appear a complete and utter fool!
And now that he's reading the letter, he's even more struck by her gentleness, the polite wording of a letter she should not have bothered to write him. Dankovsky honestly didn't think he could make the meeting, now. The shame was eating him alive. How could he face her after this humiliation?
Lord! Someone, end him!
--
Of course, he makes the meeting. He is very determined not to embarrass himself any further, in spite of everything, and not showing up would only add to his shame of having neglected to remember such an important detail about her.
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"Dr. Dankovsky?"
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And she's already gotten everything ready, too... oh, what a terrible, embarrassing friend he is. Dankovsky sits himself across Helena, crossing a leg over the other under the table.
"How was your day?"
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She's been mulling on it off and on ever since Cassandra brought up solutions to her particular problems.
"How was yours?"
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"My day was nothing to speak of. I... well, my life has been quite chaotic, as of recently. I've made a few misguided choices..."
Thankfully, she can't see the blush on his cheeks. Perhaps, however, she can hear the embarrassed tone in his voice. He decides to quickly change the subject:
"Who would you ask, then? I've no doubt in my mind you would make for an enjoyable housemate."
no subject
She smiles, and while her eyes cannot see, they can still reflect her feelings well enough.
"It depends on which of my friends are open to it. My sister has long since departed the island, and my brother arrived before me - he already has someone he's living with. And the one person I would have asked without question, her house is full. But I am in no hurry, since it's winter - I can wait until spring to undergo all the fuss and bother of it."
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Dankovsky was not expecting that, honestly. First, Helena's got two siblings-- second, one of them has managed to leave?
"How in the world did he do that?"
If he'd known, he would have left immediately!
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A pause, before she continues.
"It happens sometimes. People go to the docks in the middle of the night, and the ferry takes them away, without a true word to anyone."
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That Erin did not even bother seems to rub the Bachelor the wrong way. He has no siblings to speak of, yet he knows he would not simply leave one behind without a word.
"I'm sorry about that," he says quietly. "That does not sound like a pleasant experience."
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Without a clear plan, this may seem foolishly optimistic. But to keep going on front of insurmountable odds is what she's used to. Hope cannot die, not in her world. Not in her.
"The tea's brewed long enough. I would offer to pour for you, but it's a little difficult."
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Dankovsky takes the teapot and serves them both, unable to take his mind off of Helena's words.
"I must say, I admire your confidence."
Once he's done, he rests the teapot back to the center of the table and sits back, bringing his cup to his lips and smelling its aroma.
"I wish I was as steadfast as you are, really." He pauses, and eventually admits, "...have I already told you about the farm I've picked up, Ms. Adams?"
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"You have not, but that's remarkable. You're quite the talented man, Doctor - medicine and farming."
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"Far from it. In fact, I know next to nothing about farming. It was a rash decision I made on a whim."
He sips his tea.
"But I figured it might help me..." He looks up at Helena, smiling slightly. "...find my roots. In this town."
no subject
"The worst that can happen is that you determine you're not cut out for it, and change professions again. But you might find something unusual you have a knack for instead. I know I sound almost senselessly optimistic, when I say that, but...take it in the light of someone who thought for a time she might not find something that she could do to be of true use to others."
Even this job with Gerry isn't where her life will be. But she remembers the faith that her sister has, that Raven has, that Security has in her. Slowly, the wounds are closing. Slowly, she is growing.
"I know that it's not the only measure of a person, but...being able to do that, like anyone else, matters a great deal."