Memories of You

Chapter Thirty-Four - Forgiveness

Thank you to everyone that is reading, voting, following and commenting on the story so far. I hope you are enjoying it. My time is pretty limited at the moment, but I am doing everything in my power to get my chapters out on time.

I can't thank Depecher and BarbaraK2U for all your work on my story. I don't think it would nearly be the story it is without you guys.

Tris' POV

I pedal as quickly as I can through the darkened streets, the empty cart breaking the silence as it rattles behind me.  The snow swirls lightly around me, but it hasn't stuck to the ground yet.  The dropping temperatures have left little feeling in my fingers and toes, making it that much harder to pedal and hold the handlebars, slowing my progress toward my destination. 

I puff out a breath as I climb the small hill, trying to will imaginary heat into my freezing limbs in the hope that I can get back soon and warm up in front of the fire.  Lucien went to go get supplies this morning, and I'm hoping there will be something from Tobias among the other letters. 

I sent Caleb, Cara, and my grandparents a short letter each, telling them that I was ok and that I missed them terribly.  Inside my grandmother's letter, I sent several recipes that Lucien had shown me from his many recipe cards, hoping that the gesture might appease her since I can't speak with her on Christmas.  I left out any details of my whereabouts or what I was doing, but stated that I hoped to see her soon. 

The past few weeks have gone by without any problems.  My French has improved greatly, and I can actually carry on a conversation with the residents of the town without incident.  I asked Lucien when we will be working on my German, but he stated he didn't want to start until he was satisfied that I wouldn't make any more critical errors in French.  I attempted to argue, but Lucien said he wasn't going to teach me another language I might only use sparingly when I wasn't fully proficient in the one I was currently learning. 

Fernando has really been the only problem with my stay here.  Today he tried to ask me on a date, and again I turned him down, nearly screaming at him in frustration that I was engaged.  His face fell, and he nodded in defeat when he saw how angry I had become.  When I saw his face, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from yelling at him any further.  I know I shouldn't have yelled at him, but I have been exasperated by his endless flirting. 

There were so few people in this town that I could actually speak with, and I knew Fernando was the only person I had a chance to get to know that might help me through the rest of this mission.  On his porch, I made a deal with him that if he stopped flirting with me, I would agree to get to know him as a friend.  He brightened at my words, then laughed and said he would accept my deal because friendship often sparks a romance.  I'm starting to think he is under the illusion that I've been faking my engagement just so that he will leave me alone. 

I rolled my eyes at his comment, keeping my fists balled up at my sides, but he said maybe he could show me some of the things that he was tinkering with in the workshop in his parents' basement.  He also offered a cup of tea to warm me up after pedaling the bike all day.  I would have taken the tea, given how cold and stiff I was, but I declined.  I had already reached my limit for being in Fernando's presence.  I knew I would need to mentally prepare myself for being locked in a basement with Fernando, and before I would even consider it, I intended to let Lucien know where I would be so he could come get me if needed. 

Even though it really isn't a large part of my ongoing training, Evelyn has been teaching me about French holiday traditions and customs.  She has been slowly warming up to me, but our relationship could be described as formal, at best.  The one custom she mentioned that I found the strangest was a character she called 'le Père Fouettard' or 'the whipping father'.  Le Père Fouettard accompanies Santa — who gives out gifts to the good children — and whips the naughty ones.  While I understood that it's meant to be a deterrent for children so they'd behave all year round, it was still a little alarming to me.  In the United States, I was accustomed to hearing that Santa simply left coal in a person's stocking if they were bad.