Swear By The Stars

Chapter Ten

A grumble emanated from deep within Sylvia’s throat when her friend’s voice woke her up from a comforting sleep in which she had dreamt that she and Jean had slept in the field, finding warmth against each other’s bodies, his shirt bearing the scent of the wildflowers around them that defied the winter winds. They only left the field when it began to snow in search of comfort from the fireplace and after her husband fell asleep, she left silently into the cold night to return to a bed that she shared with no one. 

Husband. She would have to get used to saying that. He is my husband. I have a husband! 

“Sylvia,” Patria whispered sharply, “Sylvia, wake up.” 

“No, I want to sleep.” Sylvia fretted, her heavy eyelids refusing to lift. She began to feel fingers digging through her hair and she began to swat the hand away. 

“Where were you last night? You have flowers in your hair.” 

Jehan-" she said, pausing to yawn, "we walked together in a meadow and wheat field. He braided flowers into my hair and we fell asleep under the stars. I do not remember when I returned. Oh, I am exhausted, Patria.” She new she would eventually tell her beloved friend of her marriage. 

 Not right then, though. Right then, all she wanted was to sleep. She shifted back onto her stomach and exhaled. Patria left her side and she sighed once more, thinking that her friend had finally left her be, but when a sudden trickle of cold water made it over her feet, her once burdensome eyelids shot open and she immediately straightened up to glare at her friend’s green eyes ablaze with mischief, her hands clasping a small jug of water that usually remained by the door.

“Patria!” Sylvia bellowed.  

“Come now, get up! Up, up up! Madame Beareux will be angry with you.” Patria jested, tapping at her friends’ soaked foot. 

Sylvia rolled her eyes and began using her blankets to dry her feet. “Fancy that.” When were the Beareux’s not angry about something? 

Patria seemed to sense her friend’s unusual behavior and immediately set about to finding the source of it. “Sylvia, what is the matter? Be honest with me.” 

Sylvia swallowed a deep breath and feeling somewhat defeated, she tugged at the collar of her dress to reveal the ring she bore on the chain around her neck. 

Patria’s eyes widened when she realized the vast significance such a tiny little piece of jewelry could bear. “You m-m-“ It was as if she refused to actually utter the word. 

Tears began to swarm across Sylvia’s vision as she confessed. “Yes, we were wed last night. Jehan knows a priest and he married us.” She began to recall the plans they were beginning to make before he fell asleep. “Jehan promised that when he made enough money that he would take me away from here and we would live in our own flat. He’s paying a friend to build us a cottage out in the field. He showed it to me last night.” A smile teased at Sylvia’s lips, despite the incessant flow of tears. “He vowed that he never loved anyone so much and I feel the same way, but I hate having to be here away from him.” 

Patria offered arms of consolation and Sylvia accepted them eagerly, her friend’s shoulder drying her cheeks as she buried her visage into her friend’s blouse. “I understand,” her friend mumbled, “but he will take you away one day.” 

This time when Patria reached to pull out the flowers and wheat tips decorating her hair, Sylvia gave no fight. “Just breathe so your face will not be red when we practice. I swear that everything will be fine.” Patria whispered. 

Sylvia thought of Switzerland and her head began to ache as she shook it slowly. “No, there is more, but I did not tell this to you earlier.” Within the depths of her pocket, she extracted the letter from her uncle and flattened it out to the best of her ability. “I received this about four days ago.” Sylvia choked through tears and surrendered it to her friend, seeing dampness form in her friend’s own eyes as the unwelcome truth dawned upon her.