Garden of May

It was the Linden train station. A few simple lines captured the bustling energy of early morning. Impressed, she lifted the sketch from under the paperweight, turning it over in her hands.

“When did you draw this?”

He turned from the fireplace, where he had been tending the flames, and answered casually, “Yesterday morning.”

“How are you so good at drawing landscapes?”

“I don’t know… An old habit, I suppose. A record in place of words.”

“It’s amazing. How did you develop such a habit?”

“Just did.”

He answered her questions, but his tone remained detached. She had more she wanted to ask, but realized she’d been the only one asking questions. She swallowed her remaining curiosity. Besides, she had a feeling he wasn’t particularly fond of this topic.

“It’s good to have something to lose yourself in. I can’t quite picture you drawing, though.”

“Want to see?”

“Of course, I do… Landscapes and portraits are nice, but have you ever drawn anything from your imagination?”

“I don’t think so.”

He set down the poker and came to the desk, opening a metal tin to sharpen a piece of charcoal. He inserted a fresh sheet of paper into a sketchbook as Vanessa watched, intrigued. He nodded towards the bed.

“Sit.”

“…Now?”

“Or lie down, if you prefer.”

Vanessa set the drawing down, looking flustered. She hadn’t expected him to ask her to pose right then and there. But she seemed intrigued, and without protest, she perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

River Ross propped his elbow on the armrest of the chair, as he might when sketching on the deck of a ship. He laid down the initial composition with a few quick strokes, then looked at Vanessa over the top of the paper.

“How do you want to be remembered?”

“Me?”

“Imagine this is a portrait that won’t be discovered for a hundred years.”

“That’s a tough one…”

“Use your imagination.”

Vanessa frowned in thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

“A double agent?”

“…Is that what you want to be?”

“Yes. Just once in my life.”

A look of stunned disbelief flickered across his face. Vanessa couldn’t contain her giggles. He was a military man, after all, a naval officer renowned for his loyalty to the crown. Her words must have sounded utterly bizarre to him.

She considered it further, then spread her fingers like claws.

“Or maybe something really scary? With sharp claws and teeth.”

“What kind of monster is that…?”

“Fine, a monster. My name is kind of like that anyway.”

River Ross’s gaze softened as he watched her relax. A smile played on her lips.

“Is that a name given to you by the previous Count?”

“No. My mother.”

Siren. He had thought it an unusual name for a noblewoman from the moment he first heard it. People didn’t usually name their children after monsters, unless it was meant as a curse. As if compelled to answer the unspoken question in his eyes, Vanessa spoke.

“She saw a woman by the sea when she was pregnant with me.”

“A woman?”

“The woman beckoned her closer, and the next thing she knew, she was waist-deep in the water. Fishermen pulled her out just as she was about to be swept away by the waves. They said she’d been lured by a siren.”

“….”

“And they warned her never to go near the sea when winter approached. They said that those who have seen a siren will continue to encounter it.”

“….”

“My mother found the story fascinating and remembered it. She loved stories like that.”

“Hold that.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips like a wisp of fog. His command, uttered as if to capture a fleeting moment, brought tension back to her body.

“Turn your head this way.”

Vanessa turned her head awkwardly to look at him. Her face froze again, and River Ross chuckled softly.

“Tilt your chin up a little.”

She lifted her chin slightly. She had leaned back against the bed, her posture relaxed. River Ross’s gaze, shifting between her and the sketchbook, was serious.

It was then that she realized she was facing him clad only in a loosely tied gown. The damp fabric clung to her, revealing the curves of her body beneath the thin cloth. She wore nothing underneath.