An Expectation

5

"Here you are," said Marion, dumping a pad of paper, eight pencils (all sharpened) and some medicine in front of Lewis. He smiled up at her in his lopsided way. "You get to work on that story while I change your dressings, love."

Immediately her cheeks flushed. She hadn't meant to say 'love', had she? It's just a habit, she told herself. I call everyone 'love'. 

Lewis slowly scratched away at the paper, hardly erasing anything. She didn't read what he was writing, and he hadn't seemed to notice her calling him 'love'. It all works out in the end, she thought with relief.

A pencil broke and he swore under his breath, but she didn't notice almost at all. He picked up another and she continued to dab ointment on his burns, like the dutiful nurse she was. She'd worked hard to get this job, and to be able to stay in England. Her parents had nearly cried with relief when she told them, for that meant they'd get the payments she'd send them, and the chances of Marion dying were lower. She was their only daughter. They couldn't afford to lose her or the money she brought in. Not to mention they wanted her to get into James Abbot's heart, and to his home- comfort for all their lives, and a daughter who married well? What parent could pass that up?

"Here," said Lewis, shaking her from her long reverie. "I've finished a story for you."

Marion put down her cloth and took the paper, only partially full of large, careful handwriting.

A lonely lily sat at the edge of a garden, staring at the other lilies all around it. It was sad because all of the other lilies had beautiful petals and bright colours, and this lily was faded and missing one petal. It left a hole that the lily hated, for it made the balance different and didn't look good.

"Here," came a voice. "I'll help you."

The lily turned to see a little yellow marigold that the lily had never noticed before. "How can you help me?" the lily asked. "My colours are gone, and so is my petal, and there is nothing anyone can do about it."

The marigold laughed. "You don't need those things to be happy. You must learn to see outside yourself."

The lily scoffed. What did that little marigold know? She wasn't missing any petals or colours, and her stem held firmly in the breeze.

But the lily listened as they laughed together, and she talked about how to hold your head up high and be proud of yourself.

Then a boot came and  shadowed the marigold, almost coming down and crushing her. Quickly the lily reached out leaves and pulled her in, saving her from a fate surely ending in death.

"Thank you," she said, shaking with relief.

It was then that the lily realised this marigold had brought true joy, and that she should never be lost- the lily wanted to have the marigold right there forever, to laugh with and learn from, and to love.

Marion smiled as she finished the tale. "It's beautiful," she said, and Lewis smiled proudly. 

"Keep it, if you like it so much," he said earnestly. 

"I- I couldn't. Won't you want to save it?" She tried to hand the paper back.

He closed her hand around the paper, shaking his head. "No. It's for you."

Marion reluctantly pulled her hand from the warmth of Lewis's. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I'll treasure it forever."

"I don't need you to that. Just read it occasionally- why would you treasure it?"

She smiled a little. "Because it's from you."

*****

The next day dawned rainy and cold- an unpleasant late March day that seemed to both take all of Marion's energy and yet made her impossibly restless. She couldn't wait for nine o'clock, when William Stewart would leave to go home to London, and she'd be free of him.

At ten-till, she opened the door of the room, carrying both men's morning medicine and a bright smile. "Morning, lads," she announced. "Feeling alright?"

"My lip could be better," growled Stewart. He did, indeed, have a swollen lip, with a split down the middle. It gave Marion a small sense of both pride and regret. The nurse had hurt Stewart, after all, but she shuddered when she remembered how he'd acted the day before.

"It'll be better soon," she replied curtly, tipping the medicine into his mouth. "Remember how you got that way."

He scowled. Marion smiled slightly out of triumph, and hoped Stewart had learned his lesson.

Lewis took the medicine she handed him and downed it, grimacing at its bitter taste. "What's the time?"

"It's almost nine o'clock. Are you ready to go, Mr. Stewart?"

"Just help me dress, and I'll get out of here," he replied. "Or will you feel threatened by helping me?"

Marion went over and pulled a shirt and trousers from Stewart's bag. "I don't feel threatened by my job," she snapped. "I feel threatened by a man who tries to invade my space."

She pulled off Stewart's nightshirt and put on his nice one in record time. "Come on, legs out."

He pulled the bedspread off his legs and Marion slipped on his trousers. "Stand up."

"Bit testy today, are we?" he teased, but she ignored him and buckled his belt. 

"Mr. Fielding is almost here to take you to the train station. Get your cane, and we'll go downstairs." She closed his bag and swung it onto a shoulder.

With startling obedience he listened, sweeping the cane just as he'd been taught. He navigated without trouble to the lift, Marion pressed the button, and then she helped him down the stairs at the door. The car was waiting and as soon as they came out, Mr. Fielding hopped out and opened the door with a smile. 

"How are we, Miss O'Leary?" he asked cheerfully. "It's a miserable day."

"That it is," Marion replied, smiling. She looked up at the sky that was spitting rain intermittently. "I'm fine, a little tired though."

"Ah, well, I hope you get a bit of rest with this one off your hands," he joked, closing the car door as Stewart sat down. "I'd love to chat for longer, but the train won't wait for me. Give my love to Martha-Grace, and tell her that her mum misses her."

"Of course." Marion handed Mr. Fielding the bag. "Drive safely."

"I will, lass. You get some rest." He walked to the driver door. 

"Thank you."

"Oh!" Mr. Fielding jumped up and pulled a letter from his pocket. "I nearly forgot. I saw this letter for you at the post office and thought I'd deliver it."

Marion walked over and took it. "Thank you, very much."

He noted her quiet smile. "From a fellow you like?" He laughed, seeing her cheeks turn red. "Don't worry, love. Your secret's safe with me." The kindly man winked and went back to his seat, then started the car and began to drive away.

Marion looked at the letter. The handwriting was James's, but she didn't know if she really wanted to read it right then. She had to get back to Lewis.