Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Footsteps in the Snow
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“Want to head back?”
The two who had left the warehouse wandered aimlessly, unsure of their direction. From afar, the faint strains of music drifted over, hinting that the party was still going strong.
Beth couldn't bear the thought of returning to the hospital banquet hall. Standing beneath those bright chandeliers terrified her—her face would be laid bare, every expression visible. She wanted to borrow this darkness to hide just a little longer.
Snowflakes danced in the air, but without her coat, she felt no chill. Snow piled sloppily on the velvet toes of the shoes Dixie had given her, only to melt away again and again. As she stared down at her feet, Dever's jacket settled over her shoulders from above.
“I'm hot.”
He seemed earnest in waving off the jacket. He undid the top two buttons of his thin shirt—it looked like he really was warm. Beth quietly accepted the jacket draping over her shoulders.
Beth hadn't given him any answer about the proposal. And yet, he didn't press her for one. He simply matched her steps in silence. Her sluggish pace was barely half of his usual brisk stride, but he never uttered a single word of complaint.
Their feet naturally turned toward the nurses' quarters.
At the fork splitting toward the barracks and the lodging, she didn't nudge him toward the barracks this time.
A strange impulse bubbled up in Beth's chest as she trudged along, eyes fixed on her own toes. She took bold strides across the snow-blanketed path, and his steps quickened to match. When she slowed again, scurrying like a tiny bird, his footfalls eased right along with hers.
Ah, he's matching my pace.
On this frigid winter night, when even a breath fogged the air white... she couldn't fathom why tears kept pricking at her eyes.
Afraid they might spill over, Beth exhaled deeply. A puff of white vapor rose like a heat haze before vanishing.
“There's Oliver the butler. Kind sort. He'll like you, probably.”
Dever added calmly.
“He likes people like you.”
People like me? Beth's eyes crinkled faintly. Her long lashes, damp with falling snow, blinked in tandem.
“It's a compliment. You can take my word for it.”
Dever's lips quirked up as he watched her primly turn her head, as if to say she didn't buy it.
Oliver the butler had overseen the household since before Dever was born. He never crossed the line of servitude, yet his loyalty to the family ran deep—and his lips were sealed tight. He was one of the few who'd witnessed Dever's childhood.
A few years back, Oliver had started tending the long-neglected greenhouse garden with devoted care. Dever knew it was for the future Cliff wife who might one day fill its spaces, even if the old man never let on in his presence. Dever said nothing about it. Futile or not, he'd let it stand as the elderly man's hobby.
That greenhouse had come to mind because of Beth's hair ornament. The silver pin, like a flower branch blooming in the tundra, suited a woman's pale skin perfectly.
“Like the greenhouse garden?”
Dever asked as they reached the door to her lodging.
Beth mulled over an answer to a question she'd never pondered before.
Greenhouse garden.
Not long after arriving in Wayne, she'd visited Aines' countess estate at her insistence. Aines had practically dragged her there—“You have to come”—and they'd taken tea in her greenhouse.
It had been midwinter then, too. But that place brimmed with flowers in full bloom, as if the season meant nothing. Like stepping into a world without winter.
Beautiful, yes, but...
Beth shook her head.
To her, it had felt sad. At least for her. In that space feigning oblivion to winter, she'd felt like the forgotten season itself. Flowers might wilt, branches bare themselves, all things huddle away—but winter held meaning all the same.
Winter had worth enough in awaiting the spring to come.
“Then, the study? Top of your nursing class and all.”
Beth let out a small laugh. In that instant, the moment felt utterly surreal. This man she'd never have brushed against without the battlefield, speaking of proposals to her, waiting for her reply—the whole impossible scene.
Her heart might weigh heavy soon enough, but right now, she wanted to brush it off with a smile. Greedy as it was, she longed to indulge just this once.
[Why assume I'll say yes for sure?]
Dever's brow twitched faintly as he peered at the words scrawled on his palm. Full of mock indignation, he swept his lips in a delinquent pout.
Mischief sparkled in her wide eyes. But his heart was too urgent today to play along fully.
“You—”
Shh. Beth pressed a finger to his lips. Beyond his broad back—like a door—a raucous group swung open the hospital's back entrance from afar.
Dixie and the others.
Beth shoved Dever hastily into the lodging's outer corner. She pushed him farther toward the window, then peeked around the edge to gauge her friends' approach.
The young ladies' cheeks glowed pink, buzzed just right on booze and party vibes. A handful of soldiers trailed alongside—likely their escorts.
“Why hide—”
Dever eyed the small palm clamping his words. Beth sealed his mouth firm, shooting a quiet glare.
Nearby, reluctant farewell chatter drifted over. Dever humored her cue, crouching low in silence.
The faulty door's screechy hinges, the wooden stairs' perpetual groan, the men's boozy guffaws—all faded into the distance.
A yellow glow flickered on above Beth and Dever. Like a little moon beaming down on them.
Their eyes met. Embarrassment flooded Beth at last. He was an army commander—a duke of the empire. Had she spared his dignity too much thought?
The instant she lowered her hand, his lips chased it. Her face drained white at the slick, sticky peel from her palm.
Dever shrugged, utterly nonchalant.
“No face to save. You know the rumors.”
Suddenly, the window latch overhead creaked. Beth yanked him into the murky shadow with a jolt.
“A bit hot, aren't you?”
“Try eating some snow.”
“Dixie could pull that off.”
Giggling chatter floated through the air.
Beth sidled backward to the door, thrusting the jacket at him quick. Any longer, and they'd be busted for sure.
Now fat snowflakes poured down relentlessly. Dever watched them a beat, then scrubbed his face dry. His hand trembled, just a touch.
“Don't agonize too long.”
His final plea.
“I'll wait.”
With that, he turned away.
His footprints sank into the white expanse as he walked alone. Beth watched till he shrank to a speck, then vanished.
His broad back, retracing their path solo, looked so terribly lonely.
The moment Beth stepped into the room, scoldings flew: where had she been all this time? Everyone buzzed with post-party recaps from the smash hit event. Talk centered on partners' antics or flirty advances—pure stuff for girls their age.
Dixie, the surprise star, soaked up the curious stares. Madam Molly forever nagged her to “uphold a lady's grace,” but plenty of soldiers had clocked Dixie's spark.
“Beth, you missed a show. Total spectacle.”
The tale of two guys scrapping over Dixie was long the party's hottest gossip. She hammed it up: “Gotta have some charm, right?”
“Still, Dixie—who'd you wanna pair with?”
“Hmm...”
Rare hesitation shadowed Dixie's face. Then she beamed, dropping the hammer.
“Nobody!”
“Why not?”
“Eh, marriage? Nah, business calls louder. Dad'd keel over, but oh well. Don't sweat it—I'll oversee your courtships and weddings personally.”
Dixie winked sly at Beth, wedging her hip in to claim the spot beside her. Beth shook her head no and scooted off to Aines' side.
Leaning into Aines' shoulder revealed the ring on her finger.
“Marrying Gail come spring. You'll celebrate with me?”
Aines murmured into Beth's ear.
Beth nodded softly. Of course. Congratulations. My dear friend's wedding.
“Thanks, Beth. Be at the ceremony, promise?”
Hot tears pricked again; Beth eased her eyes shut. Her nods kept coming.
If you need a hideout, come to me.
I'll tuck you away where no one finds you.
It felt like she knew something. Impossible as it was. He was sharp enough that maybe—just maybe—she'd wished he'd guess without a word.
Time with him stirred selfish cravings nonstop.
The urge to play dumb and duck behind him forever.
The wish to mimic a Beth Jens with nothing to conceal.
Heavy snow began blanketing Beth's heart, layer upon layer.
A proposal night, and yet so sad. Strangely, utterly so.