Peredhil had received the note and the engagement ring a few days ago. He had prepared himself for this possibility during the return trip to Rhy'din, yet he was still shocked to see the ring lying there as he entered. With trembling hands, he opened the letter, his thumb rolling over the lines of ink, as if he would wipe the slate clean.
Three days later, the sadness that had hit him like a hurricane was still there, but he thought he had it under control. He knew he owed Juli an apology and an explanation. At the same time, he hoped for more from her, more than a few lines on a single sheet of paper could express. More than anything, though, he just needed to see her again.
So he went where he had always been able to find her before — at her studio. He brushed his hands on his blue polo shirt and dark khaki pants, then took a deep breath and knocked twice.
The studio she shared with Johnny wasn't abandoned, but it was not her primary space any longer. The gallery needed too much attention. So on a small bronzed plaque to the left of the door would direct those seeking Juliane Smith to find her at The Hope Creative, on Benson Boulevard, in New Haven.
When nobody answered the knock, he finally took stock of his surroundings and noticed the plaque. His eyebrows arched in surprise and he bounded off the porch and in the direction of New Haven. Some time later, he finally located The Hope Creative and repeated the approach, with two knocks.
It had been quiet all day and Juliane had indulged to close the gallery early. As she was midway up the stairs between the first floor and the second of the three-floor double brownstone, she heard the knock. "Hold on, 'm comin'!" Dropping her sketchbook and pen on the landing, she turned and descended, cutting through the main gallery and flicking the lights on as she went. Her studio time was going to have to wait. The etched glass of the front door blurred the form of the person on the other side, so she had no idea what to expect when she pulled the door wide. "Sorry 'bout tha—-" Her jaw fell so far it nearly hit the cobblestone.
Peredhil's faint smile had a bit of everything in it - happiness at standing in front of her again, against-the-odds hope that the clock could be turned back again, but more than anything, it was a smile of overwhelming sadness and resignation.
"Hello, Juliane." Her name rolled off his tongue slowly. "I was hoping we could talk for a moment."
Juliane felt her knees buckle, his reappearance taking her by complete surprise, and she could feel her knuckles go white with her grip on the door jamb. It was all that was keeping her upright. "Um..hello, Perry.." Her cheeks mantled with the nickname, the instinctive habit. Pushing the door wider, she stepped aside to allow him to enter.
He pushed down any instinct to reach out to her, to comfort her. Murmuring a soft thank-you, he passed her and entered, his eyes drifting over the room.
"All of this is yours?" He asked, turning around to face Juliane.
She nodded, somewhat lost for her voice and needed to swallow to moisten her scratchy cotton-stuffed mouth. "All th' art ain't, but th' buildin' an all is along with some of th' pieces." Shutting the door behind them, she leaned against the handle, using the pressure of it in the small of her back to keep her centered.
He nodded, his gaze returning to the artwork as a way to avoid meeting her eyes. "I am sorry to barge in on you like this, but I found your letter." His eyes found hers. "I did not come to beg for you to return to me, because I do not deserve you. But I owe you an apology and I needed to do it in person."
He was so direct and matter-of-fact, and yet so distant. She studied him in profile and simply nodded. It had been expected that he'd find it sooner or later, and after many months she finally knew he had. The fact that he dismissed her ever returning awoke that hollow ache that had only started to lessen in the past few weeks.
He had hoped she would say something, but the long silence indicated otherwise. Mustering his strength, he began, "Juliane, I have no excuse for my long absence. Nothing I say or do will ever make up for the hurt I've caused you. I know that. But I want you to know that my failures are mine alone, and they have nothing to do with you. You deserve better, Juliane. You deserve the best, and you made the right decision."
Always so exacting. Always so....legislative. His manner plucked at the very tentative reserve she had on her own emotions. Hands nervously pushed the hair back from her face and then down its length before going back to hanging at her sides. Shaking her head, she regarded him sadly, the corners of her mouth turned down. "That's th' key right there, isn't it' Th' things ya felt had nothin' ta do wi' me, ya didn't share wi' me. And I just couldn't be alone anymore...." Her voice broke and she looked away, the late afternoon light streaming in all the windows along the front of the building.
He knew that they had all lost and he was certain that he would bear the pain of their separation for the rest of his life. "And you shouldn't be alone. You should be with someone who makes you happy. Who will be with you through thick and thin. And I think we both know that I am not that person." He was glad she had looked away so she would not see the deep sadness in his eyes.
She didn't look back, but focused on his inverted reflection in the window pane. "Ya weren't wi' me because ya wouldn't let me be there fer you." One arm crossed her body, fingers wrapping around her upper arm that still dangled. "But ya made me happy..."
He had no response for her accusation, for he knew it was true. He wouldn't let her be there, because he had tried to present himself to her as her Prince Charming. Yet the facade had come crashing down and he was glad she had not been there to witness it.
"For that I am truly sorry, Juliane." His heart ached to tell her everything, to try to regain her. He half-reached out to her, unaware that she could see his reflection in the window, before letting his arm fall. But he knew that the same cycle would continue, that his destiny lay in Elessar and hers in Rhy'din.
The drop of his arm was like the slice of a guillotine, severing head from heart. The ache swelled and threatened to swallow her like a sinkhole, but she closed her eyes, hot tears burning but not falling down her face. "I'm sorry, too."
He could hear it in her voice, the dashing of both of their hopes and dreams in those three simple words. His entire life, imagined with her at his side, vanished in that instant, replaced by a dark void of uncertainty and solitude.
Three days later, the sadness that had hit him like a hurricane was still there, but he thought he had it under control. He knew he owed Juli an apology and an explanation. At the same time, he hoped for more from her, more than a few lines on a single sheet of paper could express. More than anything, though, he just needed to see her again.
So he went where he had always been able to find her before — at her studio. He brushed his hands on his blue polo shirt and dark khaki pants, then took a deep breath and knocked twice.
The studio she shared with Johnny wasn't abandoned, but it was not her primary space any longer. The gallery needed too much attention. So on a small bronzed plaque to the left of the door would direct those seeking Juliane Smith to find her at The Hope Creative, on Benson Boulevard, in New Haven.
When nobody answered the knock, he finally took stock of his surroundings and noticed the plaque. His eyebrows arched in surprise and he bounded off the porch and in the direction of New Haven. Some time later, he finally located The Hope Creative and repeated the approach, with two knocks.
It had been quiet all day and Juliane had indulged to close the gallery early. As she was midway up the stairs between the first floor and the second of the three-floor double brownstone, she heard the knock. "Hold on, 'm comin'!" Dropping her sketchbook and pen on the landing, she turned and descended, cutting through the main gallery and flicking the lights on as she went. Her studio time was going to have to wait. The etched glass of the front door blurred the form of the person on the other side, so she had no idea what to expect when she pulled the door wide. "Sorry 'bout tha—-" Her jaw fell so far it nearly hit the cobblestone.
Peredhil's faint smile had a bit of everything in it - happiness at standing in front of her again, against-the-odds hope that the clock could be turned back again, but more than anything, it was a smile of overwhelming sadness and resignation.
"Hello, Juliane." Her name rolled off his tongue slowly. "I was hoping we could talk for a moment."
Juliane felt her knees buckle, his reappearance taking her by complete surprise, and she could feel her knuckles go white with her grip on the door jamb. It was all that was keeping her upright. "Um..hello, Perry.." Her cheeks mantled with the nickname, the instinctive habit. Pushing the door wider, she stepped aside to allow him to enter.
He pushed down any instinct to reach out to her, to comfort her. Murmuring a soft thank-you, he passed her and entered, his eyes drifting over the room.
"All of this is yours?" He asked, turning around to face Juliane.
She nodded, somewhat lost for her voice and needed to swallow to moisten her scratchy cotton-stuffed mouth. "All th' art ain't, but th' buildin' an all is along with some of th' pieces." Shutting the door behind them, she leaned against the handle, using the pressure of it in the small of her back to keep her centered.
He nodded, his gaze returning to the artwork as a way to avoid meeting her eyes. "I am sorry to barge in on you like this, but I found your letter." His eyes found hers. "I did not come to beg for you to return to me, because I do not deserve you. But I owe you an apology and I needed to do it in person."
He was so direct and matter-of-fact, and yet so distant. She studied him in profile and simply nodded. It had been expected that he'd find it sooner or later, and after many months she finally knew he had. The fact that he dismissed her ever returning awoke that hollow ache that had only started to lessen in the past few weeks.
He had hoped she would say something, but the long silence indicated otherwise. Mustering his strength, he began, "Juliane, I have no excuse for my long absence. Nothing I say or do will ever make up for the hurt I've caused you. I know that. But I want you to know that my failures are mine alone, and they have nothing to do with you. You deserve better, Juliane. You deserve the best, and you made the right decision."
Always so exacting. Always so....legislative. His manner plucked at the very tentative reserve she had on her own emotions. Hands nervously pushed the hair back from her face and then down its length before going back to hanging at her sides. Shaking her head, she regarded him sadly, the corners of her mouth turned down. "That's th' key right there, isn't it' Th' things ya felt had nothin' ta do wi' me, ya didn't share wi' me. And I just couldn't be alone anymore...." Her voice broke and she looked away, the late afternoon light streaming in all the windows along the front of the building.
He knew that they had all lost and he was certain that he would bear the pain of their separation for the rest of his life. "And you shouldn't be alone. You should be with someone who makes you happy. Who will be with you through thick and thin. And I think we both know that I am not that person." He was glad she had looked away so she would not see the deep sadness in his eyes.
She didn't look back, but focused on his inverted reflection in the window pane. "Ya weren't wi' me because ya wouldn't let me be there fer you." One arm crossed her body, fingers wrapping around her upper arm that still dangled. "But ya made me happy..."
He had no response for her accusation, for he knew it was true. He wouldn't let her be there, because he had tried to present himself to her as her Prince Charming. Yet the facade had come crashing down and he was glad she had not been there to witness it.
"For that I am truly sorry, Juliane." His heart ached to tell her everything, to try to regain her. He half-reached out to her, unaware that she could see his reflection in the window, before letting his arm fall. But he knew that the same cycle would continue, that his destiny lay in Elessar and hers in Rhy'din.
The drop of his arm was like the slice of a guillotine, severing head from heart. The ache swelled and threatened to swallow her like a sinkhole, but she closed her eyes, hot tears burning but not falling down her face. "I'm sorry, too."
He could hear it in her voice, the dashing of both of their hopes and dreams in those three simple words. His entire life, imagined with her at his side, vanished in that instant, replaced by a dark void of uncertainty and solitude.