Breakfast the next morning was abuzz with conversation, Martha and Eleanor chattering about wedding plans and invitations. She and Clarence had wanted to get married in London, at the Cathedral the Vanbrics attended.

Martha was determined to wear her mother's wedding dress; a plain, yellowed gown that ran from the chin to the toes in a terrifyingly dull way. Vigil's breakfast was uneaten as she stared at the yellow nightmare, attempting to keep her hands from tearing the tablecloth.

"Do you like the breakfast dears?" Eleanor said to Clarence and Martha.

The woman looked relieved to have two people in the house who were as sensible as she was. The couple were the picture of suitability, with their perfectly groomed hair and Edwardian clothes. Vigil seemed out of place in her short tresses and roomy dress.

Martha looked up from her ugly wedding gown and smiled at Vigil. "What kind of things do you like to do, Vigil?"

Vigil blinked, the question tearing her from her thoughts. "Um, what do I like to do?"

"Yes," She said patiently. "Like... what's your favorite prayer?"

Vigil stared at her. Prayer? Seriously? That's all she could come up with?

Before she could say anything, she was saved by the bell. Albert had come in, in his hat and coat.

"I was thinking we could have a little outing today. Go now and come back home after dinner. Show Martha around town." He said.

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Martha exclaimed.

"Let me grab my hat," Clarence agreed. "Vigil?"

Vigil looked up from her breakfast. This outing could give her an excuse to bother James. "Er, I'm fine, thank you. I'm not feeling my best, anyway."

"Oh dear," Martha cried, clasping her hands together. If Vigil didn't know any better, she would have thought the girl was mocking her. "I do hope you'll be alright."

Vigil shifted in her seat. "I'll be fine."

"Well, then," Clarence resolved. "We should go."

He passed Vigil on his way out, and whispered, "I know you're staying behind because of Martha. Try to keep an open mind."

Vigil didn't respond, only waited in the dining room until they had left the house. When she was certain they had gone, she yanked on a pair of shoes and jogged outside.

The grass was muddy from the storm last night, and her stockings were soaked through in no time. The air was chilly, as always, and she wished she had taken a coat.

Her damp shoes carried her farther and farther from the house, looking for a pair of mossy eyes. Her feet carried her to the orchards, where the cherry trees were in full bloom. White, angelic flowers floated through the air, catching in her hair.

She stopped walking when a sweet, deep voice came from somewhere. It was singing something so familiar, a song she knew she loved.

"I am dreaming, dear of you, day by day. Dreaming when the skies are blue, when they're gray. When the silvery moonlight gleams, still I wander on in dreams in a land of love, it seems, just with you."

Vigil spun around toward the sound, eyes meeting the source of the noise.

"Longing for you all the while, more and more; longing for the sunny smile I adore. Birds are singing far and near, roses blooming everywhere. You, alone, my heart can cheer; you, just you."

She chewed the inside of her lip as she watched James plant a sapling in the ground. He was patting the soil affectionately, carefully tending to the tiny plant. He seemed completely unaware of her presence, merely humming to himself.

Vigil stood and watched him as strands of hair fell into his eyes. He wiped the sweat from his neck and stood up.

"Miss Vanbric," He said when she met his eyes.

Vigil strolled up to him. "You have a beautiful voice."

James smirked, like he didn't believe her. He plucked a flower from the air and examined it. "Do know what else is beautiful right now?"

Her face heated. "What?"

"This orchard," He said, craning his neck to look at the sun filtering through the branches.

"Oh," Vigil scratched behind her ear. "It is."

The gardener laughed as her cheeks reddened even more. "This orchard wouldn't near as beautiful without a ebony-haired angel to complement it."

She opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly a boom of thunder sounded overhead. A sheet of rain suddenly poured down on them.

"This way," James yelled. "We need to find cover."

He took Vigil's hand, and she shouted, "The house is too far away."

"There's a barn over here," He called back as they sloshed through the puddles.

A weather-beaten barn came into view, and they ran inside. James pushed the door closed, grunting with the effort. The barn was almost silent, with only an echo of thunder from outside. There were a few rows of pens, but all were empty.

"I've never seen this before," Vigil said, looking up at the high ceilings.

James rung out his shirt. "I come here sometimes, especially when it rains."

"It doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon," She said, peering out a tiny hole. The rain was coming in bucketfuls.

She stepped away from the hole, and almost toppled over. An aged gramophone sat on a table behind her.

"What's this doing here?" She said, examining the device.

James shrugged. "It's always been here. Only has one record, so I've sort of memorized it."

Vigil read the title on the record. "That's what you were singing. 'Let Me Call You Sweetheart'."

James started the song, and Vigil smiled slightly. He took her hand, and led her to the center of the barn. His other hand found her waist, relaxed and tender. He started singing along with the song, his voice deep and rich. Vigil wrapped her arm around his neck, his breath hot on her neck.

James hands led her back and forth, faster and faster. Soon, they were spinning around the barn wildly, in a dance of no beat or rhythm. The song had ended now, but they kept on dancing, swaying and whirling.

The gardener kept on singing, every verse out of order and mixed. He would add his own words and choruses, but Vigil didn't care.

She was simply happy to be with him, with this odd Belgian who seemed so closed, yet so relatable.

He stopped singing at a verse, and pulled back to look at her. He was so much taller than her, her eyes reaching his collar bone. The rain had stopped, and the barn was now completely silent.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she expected him to say something profound or poetic. He only said, "Is it true you have never seen a movie before?"