So, this is one of the things I have been working on. I didn't think I would write this part of the story. But the story started to tell itself, so I listened. It is a really rough draft. There are a lot of inconsistencies and unnecessary sections, because I'm still figuring out how the details fit into the larger story. Anyway, this section introduces a character that has been part of this story since near the beginning. Was I inspired by reading Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, full of dashing men in military garb? Helena would like Jane Austen. And she dreams of a man in a military uniform. What would happen if she really met one?
Helena folded Will’s letter and shoved it under her pillow. It was beginning to rip where it had been folded. Any day now she expected him to be in the city. She guessed Ariana and Max were around somewhere, but they wanted to stay hidden until they got their paperwork figured out. And if she recognized them, it could blow there cover. As she ran down the stairs to where her mother and father were waiting, she thought, “But Will would be different. Someday, he’ll walk up to my doorstep in his beautiful dress uniform and ask for me,” although doubt flickered around the edges of her dream.
Tonight was a military dance. Her father, as mayor, was invited, and she loved going with him. The men in their dress uniforms were so handsome, and although the women were allowed either their dress uniforms or ball gowns, she was often the belle of the dance.
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“Miss Helena, I don’t think we have ever had the pleasure of being introduced.” A Lieutenant led her to the dance floor. “I’m Lt. Aaron Burton. I believe you know my cousin, Marcus. And perhaps you have met my uncle also.”
Helena didn’t know how to answer, so she just smiled and looked away. A slow waltz began. Lt. Burton was a fine dancer and Helena enjoyed having a partner who actually knew what he was doing. She wondered if she had met the hermit, would she have made the connection that it was his uncle? Should she acknowledge that she thought she knew who he was talking about, or pretend that he meant Marcus’s father? Or maybe that was who he did mean? Maybe he was just mentioning people she might know? But then why did he not mention his aunt, Marcus’ mother too? She glanced up at his face to see if it would give away any of his intentions, but he was looking intently at her.
When he saw her glance he said, “You know, it would be helpful to know if my patrol should be looking for undocumented citizens to help with their transition.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Helena looked away again, but as she felt a blush rising, she evaded, “This doesn’t quite seem the place to discuss patrols.”
“Perhaps you are right.” The Lieutenant paused, “Perhaps you would be more comfortable with me telling you how beautiful you are?”
“It would be more expected.” Helena wanted run back to her father. Why hadn’t they managed to leave before this dance. She glanced again at his face.
“I’ve never liked the expected,” He frowned for a moment, then the gentle smile returned. “But if your father thought that is what I was telling you, I would be able to visit you as often as I liked, wouldn't I?”
Helena was frantic, “No, please, I’m not interested.” How could she get away? Why couldn’t the music end?
“I’m not interested in that way either. But I am also not interested in your father hearing your answers to all the questions I have to ask.” Helena paused and missed a step, causing them to stumble together. “I thought asking you in a dance would be easier on you than an inquisition room.” He steadied her, and continued the dance.
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