“I cannot promise you what the world will not allow,” Nicholas said. “But I can tell you that habit is not fate. I do not live as he lived. There are others who do not.”
She turned that over.
“Do you forgive him?” she asked.
Nicholas sighed loudly at that.
“I cannot say I have done so,” he said. “But I try not to carry their burdens anymore. I suggest you do the same.”
“Would you have preferred to know me then?” Maria asked. “As a child, I mean. Perhaps we might have been closer if we had begun earlier.”
“I have thought of it,” he said.
“Because it cannot be helped,” she said in agreement.
“Yes. But we cannot change any hour that has gone. But, yes. I would have liked to know you sooner.” He added, more steadily, “I am grateful you are here now. Safe and with your family.”
“Thank you,” She sat a little straighter.
She tried a new question.
“What were you like as a child?”
He looked faintly surprised, then almost amused.
“Mischievous,” he said. “Quite a handful, if you ask those who knew me then.”
Maria’s mouth curved despite herself.
“Such things were not permitted at the nunnery. Mischief was a fault that made more faults. We were told it split the soul into smaller, weaker pieces.”
“That is strong language for a broken rule,” He winced a little.
“It was strong enough to do its work,” she said. “I kept far away from it. Far away from laughter, sometimes, if I suspected it would lead in that direction.”
“I am sorry for that,” he said quietly. “Every child should have a little room for foolishness.”
“I am learning late,” she said.
“Learning late still counts,” he answered. “I am learning late as well. It is not the same skill, but it is not a lesser one. In earnest, a part of me remains glad that you did not grow up in this environment. I do not wish the anguish on you. ”
She studied his face and then said, very plain, “You truly are relieved I did not live here.”
“I am,” he answered. “I would not have had you watch people come and go as if the house were a corridor. It was hard enough as a boy. For a girl…” He stopped, shook his head. “No. I am glad you did not learn those lessons.”
“That is thoughtful of you,” She nodded once. “Thank you.”
Nicholas shifted as if deciding whether to risk one more honest sentence.
“Maria,” he said, voice lower, “I would like us to be closer. I am not very good at the work of it. I may say too little or too much. But I would rather try than keep a proper distance and call it respect.”
Awkwardness rose between them. She felt it; so did he.
“I should like that,” she said finally, careful. “I do not promise to know what to do. I am still learning what brothers are.”
“As am I,” he let out a laugh.
Silence came again, but it was lighter than before. She stood; he rose as well.