Irena Kovac hurried out of the pub with a jacket she'd borrow from Miss Silvia wrapped tightly about her shoulders. It was drawing near dark now and she'd only heard the news thirty minutes prior from a regular customer who knew of her courting with the young Mr. Alvarsson. Her feet moved faster than her mind as she made her way through the night with no companion or weapon about her. It was a curious and unfitting situation for a young lady of Drovikstead to be in, but if anyone knew of the whys and hows of it, they'd think better than to question.
She made the way twice as fast as she should've been able and knocked with shaking hands on the Alvarsson family door. When the door open, her teary blue eyes met that of a tired Mr. Alvarsson and he ushered the young woman inside quickly.
"There's tea in the kettle dear, get yourself warmed up."
"Thank you."
She patted the older gentleman's back in a weak effort to comfort him before moving widely around and into the kitchen. Older Mr. Alvarsson shut the door and moved back up the creaky stairs into the crux of the matter, leaving Irena in the kitchen with a couple other worried Alvarsson members. At the sitting table sat Melkior's younger brother Veigar and older Mr.Alvarsson's widowed sister Lubka.
Lubka sat with her hands folded and her eyes shut, muttering wisps of desperate prayers to the gods. Veigar sat with his young eyes wide and scanning, he had only just turned six in the spring. His brown curls dipped into his shoulders as he lowered his head to the floor. Irena imagined he wasn't entirely sure what was happening and moved to the empty seat beside the boy. When he noticed her beside him, his stone blue eyes peeked over the wooden table and met her watering ones.
"Miss Irena?"
"Yes, what is it?"
The boy's eyes looked nervously about the kitchen for a moment when his bottom lip finally opened, trembling slightly.
"Why is everybody sad?"
Irena's heart squeezed painfully at the fear on his small face and she opened her arms for him to come into them. Veigar pushed himself up and onto her lap, wrapping his small hands around her shoulders. He turned and looked at her again, still unsure what to make of everything around him and Irena sucked in a breath slowly. She had never been the best with children but she still wanted to help the young boy if she were able.
"Have you seen your mother today?"
Veigar's stormy blue eyes blinked twice before he shook his head. He couldn't recall seeing her back in the kitchen like most other morning's, nor had she tucked him into bed last night. Veigar couldn't remember when exactly she had stopped appearing about him but it had been a moment or two.
"No, I haven't."
Irena nodded, patting the boy's back every few seconds to keep him calm.
"She's fallen sick, quite badly sick."
Veigar tilted his head to the side as he thought about what she said.
"Is she not better yet?"
Irena's heart squeezed again as she stared at the small child.
"No Veigar, she's not."
The boy's mouth made an 'o' shape and he settled against her chest quietly. Lubka halted her prayer for a moment to settle one of her wrinkled hands on top of Irena's. She herself hadn't known what to tell the boy and was grateful for the task to be settled onto someone else.
"Thank you, dear."
Some moments passed with the group of them waiting nervously in the kitchen. Eventually Irena poured some tea for the two of them; Lubka's unsweetened and strong and Veigar's sugary and cool. It wasn't long until they heard footsteps on the stairs and all three sets of eyes turned, waiting.
Melkior and his father stood at the bottom with the doctor. Their talk was too soft to be heard from the kitchen and their faces betrayed very little of anything at all. Irena scanned Melkior's face for any hint of emotion. The dimple at his mouth was nowhere to be seen and his brows were even, unfurrowed.
The men talked until no more could be said and then the doctor stepped out into the night, bidding the Alvarsson family his best. The door shut and Mr. Alvarsson moved to the kitchen, with his son following close behind. When they were all gathered in the dim, small kitchen he looked at each of their faces. His eyes lingered on his sister as they wordlessly exchanged looks and then he looked to Veigar with a despairing sort of look.
"Come here, my boy."
Irena opened her arms so the child could move from her and found Melkior to be staring deeply at her, eyes vulnerable. Mr. Alvarsson hugged his youngest son tightly, asking Lubka to put some soup on. The woman quickly obliged and Melkior found his opportunity to move to where Irena sat in the kitchen.
When he was close enough, Irena caught the red of his eyes and the light tremble of his hand. She nervously took one of his hands in between two of hers.
Eventually he moved his other hand to lightly caress her face and he opened his lips to speak.
"Irena, would you walk with me?"
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The way was muddy and hard to contend with in the dark. The lovers persisted on through the knee-length grasses until they had strayed from the light of the houses and found themselves by the old winding river. It was then that Melkior offered Irena a hand so they could be seated.
At first she scanned his face, curious as to what matter he could be deliberating on. They had been courting for nearly a year now and she was content with the steadiness of their progression. Though, with the state of his mother, she wasn't sure what would happen.
His eyes were on the flow of the water and his blonde lashes held a light glow in the dark of night. Many people found him to be good looking, but in this moment Irena was sure that nobody would ever look at him and feel the way that she did. Nobody else could feel the depth of his sadness and still find every feature he held to be just as beautiful. None.
Eventually he turned to Irena and scanned her face. The woman was unsure of what he hoped to find but there was an unmistakable longing in his eyes as he looked at her.
"I think my mother is to die."
The words were not as emotional as she would have expected while looking at him. Rather they were spoken softly, flowing off his tongue as the wind did through the grasses. Melkior spoke as though what he said was already fact.
"How does your father take it?"
Melkior said nothing, shaking his head ever so slightly and messing with his bottom lip in a faraway sort of manner. Eventually some of the colour returned to his cheeks.
"I worry more about how Veigar will handle it."
Irena nodded, remembering the boy's confused eyes and his aunt Lubka's seeming uncertainty. Veigar was likely to have the worst of it.
"I don't think he'll understand what's happened for a long while."
Melkior nodded, the ghost of a smile fell to his lips and he stared at Irena.
"You did well with him. Thank you."
Her cheeks flushed red in half embarrassment and half fondness. The Alvarssons were an easy family to love and she hadn't thought much of tending to the boy if she were being honest. Melkior leaned forward slowly, earning a frozen in headlights look from his dear Irena as she watched his movements.
Eventually his lips connected with her forehead and lingered there for only a moment, and then he pulled away. Irena blinked twice, feeling her heart swell as she tried to remain calm.
"Melkior, are you going to be alright?"
The man nodded then, allowing the sadness to settle back on his tired shoulders and his eyes to return to the cold creek before them.
"We both will."
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Some time passed and the fall leaves sunk into the ground, eventually Miss Alvarsson would follow. It was winter then and things had slowly started to become okay again. Melkior dived into his work as the tides picked up and he started to bring in an income for his family. Mr. Alvarsson took to his work with a new slowness but Lubka kept his stomach full and Veigar kept him distracted enough. Between the business and Irena, Melkior could almost stand the absence of his mother.
The time drew in and he decided there was no better time than now. Irena had halted her work at the pub and took a few odd jobs working with the flower shop in town, and singing for children's birthday parties. On one such flower shop shift, Melkior dropped in to see her with one of Lubka's treats packed beneath his arm.
"Evening, elskan."
Irena stopped her hands moving through the dirt and let her eyes glance up at the front counter. When she was met with a sunny smile and a pastry, she blushed, moving over to where he stood. The few customers present exchanged gushing glances and returned to their shopping with little comment on the matter.
"Evening Melkior. What brings you by?"
The man smiled at her a bit nervously, one hand fiddling with his briefcase as the other held out Lubka's pastry. She took it, eyeing him with confused brows.
"Irena Kovac."
The formal tone with which he spoke unnerved her and she froze, eyes locked entirely on him.
"May I ask your father for your hand?"
Her heart swelled and ached all at once as her mouth fell open wide. Surely they had both known it was coming to this but she still hadn't expected it. When his question finally hit ehr and the shock wore off, she smiled so wide her mouth hurt a little and then she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
Melkior let an oomph escape him before he quickly held onto her, the scent of gardenias and honey flooding his senses. When she pulled away, her lips were pushed close for fear she might shout and she opted to nod very quickly instead.
Melkior chuckled at the warm and cute nature of her response before he left a short kiss on her cheek and wished her a good evening.
Irena watched his retreating back as he poured out into the street and then she allowed a noise of excitement to leave her lips.
Melkior Alvarsson was going to marry her.
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