Rain, Lemon, and Other Distractions

Alex arrived for their date with a folded itinerary.

Sera took it out of her hand.

"You're not allowed to laugh," Alex said.

"You've scheduled refreshments."

"People need to eat."

"At precisely three fifteen?"

Alex tried to reclaim the paper. Sera held it behind her back.

"I thought it would help," Alex admitted.

The uncertainty beneath the words made Sera stop teasing.

She folded the itinerary carefully and put it in her pocket.

"Then I shall keep it. But I reserve the right to be hungry at three ten."

Bellwick was a small town of pale stone houses and crooked shop signs, an easy carriage journey from the castle. Two guards followed at a courteous distance as Alex and Sera walked through the square.

Sera wore a plain blue dress and a straw hat. Nobody required her to greet a receiving line. Nobody adjusted her posture.

At the corner, Alex offered a hand.

Sera took it.

That was the first wonderful thing about the afternoon.

The bookshop was the second.

It smelled of old paper, beeswax, and a stove that had been lit despite the mild weather. The owner greeted Alex with familiar pleasure and immediately began complaining about a publisher.

Sera browsed while Alex listened. On a low shelf she discovered a collection of poems she had borrowed years ago and never been able to find again.

She sat on a little stool to read the opening page.

When Alex joined her, Sera read the first verse aloud.

"That's rather sad," Alex said.

"It becomes hopeful."

"On which page?"

Sera turned to the next poem. "Here."

Alex crouched beside her to see. Their shoulders touched. Sera lost her place, began the line again, and heard the smile in Alex's next breath.

"You're distracting me," she accused.

"I'm listening."

"Too closely."

"I'll try to listen from farther away."

Alex started to rise. Sera caught her cuff.

"I didn't say you should move."

They stayed beside the shelf until the owner needed to reach a box behind them.

At the bakery, several minutes before the appointed time for refreshments, they bought one enormous lemon cake because Sera insisted two smaller ones would be less interesting.

They took it to a bench overlooking the river. Alex broke it, looked at the halves, and gave Sera the larger one with most of the icing.

"I saw that," Sera said.

"Saw what?"

"Your very subtle cake management."

"Would you prefer the smaller half?"

"Certainly not. I merely wish my excellent treatment acknowledged."

Alex's smile had become one of Sera's favorite things. It began in her eyes when she forgot to be dignified.

Sera took a bite, then held out the cake.

"Here. You haven't any icing."

Alex leaned in and ate from the offered edge.

It was a small, ordinary thing. Sera felt a ridiculous thrill at sharing something her mouth had touched.

"Good?" she asked.

"Very."

Alex was looking at her instead of the cake.

They missed the first warning drops of rain because Sera was telling a story about Rose and an escaped peacock. The sky opened as they reached a narrow lane.

Alex caught her hand, and they ran laughing beneath a shop's recessed doorway. Across the lane, their guards found shelter beneath an awning.

Sera's hat was crooked. A lock of wet hair clung to her cheek.

Alex lifted it away with the backs of two fingers.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Alex moved to unfasten her coat.

Sera stopped her.

"I didn't mean that cold."

The doorway was very narrow. Alex's smile faded into something softer as she looked down at her.

Sera waited.

Rain pattered from the gutter. Somewhere nearby, a shopkeeper wrestled with shutters.

"Alex."

"Yes?"

"I think you can tell what I'm waiting for."

Alex leaned down at last.

The kiss tasted faintly of lemon. Sera slipped her hand beneath the open edge of Alex's coat and rested it against her waist, feeling the warmth through her shirt.

Alex drew her closer, out of the wind. There was an extraordinary sweetness in being held so carefully by someone who had begun to look almost dazed by her.

When Sera pulled away, Alex followed a fraction before stopping herself.

Sera kissed her once more for that.

"You took your time," she murmured.

"I was trying to think of something charming to say."

"How did that go?"

"Poorly."

Sera leaned her cheek against Alex's shoulder and laughed.

They abandoned the remaining itinerary and returned to the carriage when the rain eased. Inside, Sera noticed Alex kept one hand protectively over something beneath her coat.

"What have you got?"

"Nothing alarming."

At the castle, Alex produced a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

The poetry collection.

Sera looked from it to the damp stain spreading across Alex's left shoulder. She had kept that side toward the rain in the doorway, sheltering Sera and the book at once.

"You bought it?"

"You looked happy reading it."

Sera held it against her chest.

Then she fetched a towel.

"Sit down."

"I'm not very wet."

"You are inconveniently tall. Sit."

Alex obeyed, perching on the edge of a chair in the little sitting room adjoining Sera's bedroom. Rose brought fresh tea, took in the towel and their expressions, and withdrew without comment.

Sera worked the towel through Alex's hair. The dark strands curled at the ends when damp.

Alex tipped her head forward, making the task easier.

The simple trust in that movement touched Sera unexpectedly.

"There," she said, smoothing a stubborn lock into place.

Alex looked up at her.

"Thank you."

Sera bent and kissed her forehead before she could become embarrassed about wanting to.

Alex caught her hand. For a moment she only held it against her cheek.

Sera's heart gave a slow, helpless turn.

Tomorrow, she thought. She wanted tomorrow already.

"When can I see you again?" she asked.