Stefan’s Diaries: Origins Chapter 7

The abutting week passed in a blur. I ran from fittings at Mrs. Fellss dress shop to visits with Rosalyn in the Cartwrights stuffy parlor to the tavern with Damon. I tried to forget Katherine, leaving my shutters closed so I wouldnt be tempted to look across the lawn at the passenger vehicle ho manipulation, and forcing myself to smile and wheel at Damon and Katherine when they explored the gardens.Once I went up to the attic to look at the portrait of Mother. I wondered what advice shed devour for me. Love is patient, I remembered her saying in her lilting French accent during Bible study. The notion comforted me. mayhap love could come to me and Rosalyn.After that, I tried to love Rosalyn, or at least garner some kind of affection for her. I knew, behind her quietness and her dishwater blond h send, she was only when a sweet misfire whod make a doting wife and mother. Our most recent visits hadnt been awful. In fact, Rosalyn had been in remarkably good spirits. Shed gotten a new dog, a glib black beast named Sadie, which shed taken to carrying everywhere lest the new puppy raise the same fate as Penny had. At wiz point, when Rosalyn looked up at me with adoring eyes, asking if Id prefer lilacs or gardenias at the wedding, I almost felt fond of her. by chance that would be enough.Father had boney no time in planning another party to celebrate. This time, it was a checkbecue at the estate, and Father had invited everyone within a twenty-mile radius. I slam only a handful of the young men, pretty girls, and Confederate soldiers who mill ab reveal around the labyrinth, acting as if they owned the estate. When I was younger, I use to love the parties at Veritasthey were always a chance to run take in to the ice pond with our friends, to play hide-and-seek in the swamp, to ride horses to the Wickery Bridge, and then dare each other to dive into the icy depths of Willow Creek. outright I just wished it were over, so I could be alone in my room.St efan, care to share a whiskey with me? Robert called out to me from the makeshift bar set up on the portico. To judge from his lopsided grin, he was already drunk.He passed me a sw eating tumbler and tipped his own to mine. fairly soon, there will be young Salvatores all over the place. send packing you picture it? He swept his hands expansively over the effort as if to show me just how much room my imaginary family would have in which to grow.I swirled my whiskey miserably, unable to picture it for myself.Well, youve do your tonic one lucky man. And Rosalyn one lucky girl, Robert give tongue to. He lifted his ice rink to me one last time, then went to chat with the Lockwoods overseer.I sighed and sat galvanic pile on the porch swing, observing the merriment occurring all around me. I knew I should nip expert. I knew Father only wanted what was best for me. I knew that there was nothing wrong with Rosalyn.So why did this engagement sapidity like a death sentence?On the law n, people were eating and laughing and dancing, and a makeshift band made up of my childhood friends Ethan Giffin, Brian Walsh, and Matthew Hartnett was playing a version of The Bonnie Blue Flag. The sky was cloudless and the weather balmy, with just a slight nip in the air to remind us that it was, indeed, fall. In the distance, schoolchildren were swinging and shrieking on the gate. To be around so much merrimentall meant for meand not feel happy made my heart thud heavily in my chest. rest up, I walked inside toward Fathers study. I shut the door to the study and take a breath a sigh of relief. Only the faintest stream of sunlight peeked through the fundamental damask curtains. The room was cool and smelled of well-oiled flog and musty passwords. I took out a slim gaudiness of Shakespeares sonnets and turned to my favorite poem. Shakespeare calmed me, the words comfort my brain and reminding me that there soothing my brain and reminding me that there was love and beaut i n the world. Perhaps experiencing it through art would be enough to hold open air me.I settled into Fathers leather club chair in the boxful and absentmindedly skimmed the onionskin pages. Im not sure how long I sat there, letting the language wash over me, but the much I read, the calmer I felt.What are you reading?The voice startled me, and the ledger slid off my lap with a clatter.Katherine stood at the study entrance, tiring a simple, white silk dress that hugged every curve of her body. All the other women at the party were wearing layers of crinoline and muslin, their skin guarded under wide fabric. moreover Katherine didnt seem the least bit embarrassed by her subject white shoulders. Out of propriety, I glanced away.Why arent you at the party? I asked, bending to pick up my book.Katherine stepped toward me. Why arent you at the party? atomic number 18nt you the client of honor? She perched on the arm of my chair.Have you read Shakespeare? I asked, gesturing to the open book on my lap. It was a lame attempt to change the intercourse I had yet to meet a girl versed in his works. Just yester daylight, Rosalyn had admitted she hadnt even read a book in the departed three years, ever since she had graduated from the Girls Academy. Even at that, the last volume shed perused was merely a primer on how to be a duteous Confederate wife.Shakespeare, she repeated, her accent expanding the word to three syllables. It was an odd accent, not one that Id heard from other people from Atlanta. She swung her legs back and forth, and I could see that she wasnt wearing stockings. I tore my eyes away.Shall I compare thee to a summers day? she quoted.I looked up, astonished. Thou art more lovely and more temperate, I said, continuing the quote. My heart galloped in my chest, and my brain felt as impenetrable as molasses, creating an unusual sensation that made me feel I was dreaming.Katherine yanked the book off my lap, closing it with a resounding clap. No, sh e said firmly.But thats how the next line goes, I said, annoyed that she was changing the rules of a game I thought I understood.Thats how the next line goes for Mr. Shakespeare. But I was simply asking you a question. Shall I compare you to a summers day? Are you worthy of that comparison, Mr. Salvatore? Or do you need a book to set? Katherine asked, grinning as she held the volume just out of my reach.I clean-cut my throat, my mind racing. Damon would have said something witty in response, without even recollecting about it. But when I was with Katherine, I was like a schoolboy who tries to strickle a girl with a frog caught from the pond.Well, you could compare my brother to a summers day. Y ouve been spending a lot of time with him. My face reddened, and at once I wished I could take it back. I sounded so jealous and petty.Maybe a summers day with a few thunderstorms in the distance, Katherine said, arching her eyebrow. But you, Scholarly Stefan, you are different from Dar k Damon. Or Katherine looked away, a palpitate of a grin crossing her faceDashing Damon.I nominate be dashing, too, I said petulantly, before I even know what I was saying. I shook my head, frustrated. It was as though Katherine somehow compelled me to spill without commemorateing. She was so lively and vivacioustalking to her, I felt as though I was in a dream, where nothing I said would have any consequence but everything I said was important.Well, then, I must see that, Stefan, Katherine said. She placed her icy hand on my forearm. Ive gotten to know Damon, but I barely know you. Its quite a shame, dont you think?In the distance, the band struck up Im a Good aging Rebel. I knew I essential to get back outside, to smoke a cigar with Mr. Cartwright, to twirl Rosalyn in a first waltz, to toast my place as a man of Mystic Falls. But instead I remained on the leather club seat, wishing I could stay in the library, active in Katherines scent, forever.May I make an observation? Katherine asked, leaning toward me. An errant dark curl flopped down on her white forehead. I had to use all my strength to resist pushing it off her face. I dont think you like whats happening right now. The barbecue, the engagement My heart pounded. I searched Katherines dark-brown eyes. For the past week, Id been trying desperately to hide my feelings. But had she seen me pausing outside the carriage house? Had she seen me run Mezzanotte to the forest when she and Damon explored the garden, desperate to get away from their jape? Had she somehow managed to read my thoughts?Katherine smiled ruefully. Poor, sweet, steadfast Stefan. Havent you learned yet that rules are made to be broken? Y cant makeou anyone happyyour father, Rosalyn, the Cartwrightsif youre not happy yourself.I cleared my throat, aching with the realization that this woman who Id known for a matter of weeks understood me better than my own father and my future wife ever would.Katherine slid off the chair and g lanced at the volumes on Fathers shelves. She took down a thick, leather-bound book, The Mysteries of Mystic Falls. It was a volume Id never seen before. A smile illuminate her rose-colored lips, and she beckoned me to join her on my fathers couch. I knew I shouldnt, but as if in a trance, I stood and crossed the room. I sank into the cool, cracked leather cushion next to her and just let go.After all, who knew? Perhaps a few moments in her presence would be the balm I needed to break my melancholia.