(no subject)
Had Briony any idea at all of what she would find in the bookshelf that evening, she would have stayed safely away.
Hiding in her room was out of the question. Although the island calendar kept time in questionable relation to its inhabitants, it marked today as her birthday and Briony had been in residence on the island long enough that she felt it must be true. As of today, she was nineteen and she would not be kept indoors and in hiding no matter what might greet her in the world. She had not publicized the day's importance; those who had asked in conversation would have been given an answer, and Leon would surely remember, but she had no grand plans for the day. No parties, no dinners, certainly no drinking. (Oh, how her head had ached after Shrove Tuesday!) A day fully enjoyed and spent in good company, when it could be afforded, was present enough for Briony. It was the same present she gave herself everyday, but she'd never ask for any other. Especially not now when Robbie and Cee's happiness seemed so secured.
She had approached the bookshelf only with the intention of finding some light reading for herself. An evening spent curled up with a good book would be a good end to any day. But as she flipped through the pages of a novel that had caught her eye -- the title had escaped her memory now -- she had found something lodged between the pages. A pleasant mood, a lack of awareness and a dullness of senses were her only excuse for what she did then. Removing the sheet of paper from its crevice between the now uninteresting leaves, Briony replaced the book without her interest wavering and unfolded the letter.
She should have known better. How she could have known that it would be that letter -- Robbie's note to Cee that her childish eyes had read before delivering it to her sister with dirty, sap-stained hands -- how she could have known its true identity was beyond her, but she felt that she should have. It began so innocuously, even asking for forgiveness, that upon first glance with knowing eyes, Briony could not fathom how such words could every be interpreted cruelly. But the final lines she could never forget. Reading them now, only the faintest sense of discomfort and shame colored her cheeks, but the guilt assaulted her like a wave beating upon a shore. She dropped the note as if burned and backed away, quickly, falling into a seated position on the sofa rather than stopping.
She stared, wide eyed, breathing unsteady as her mind reeled, frightened by a piece of paper and what it meant here and now.
Hiding in her room was out of the question. Although the island calendar kept time in questionable relation to its inhabitants, it marked today as her birthday and Briony had been in residence on the island long enough that she felt it must be true. As of today, she was nineteen and she would not be kept indoors and in hiding no matter what might greet her in the world. She had not publicized the day's importance; those who had asked in conversation would have been given an answer, and Leon would surely remember, but she had no grand plans for the day. No parties, no dinners, certainly no drinking. (Oh, how her head had ached after Shrove Tuesday!) A day fully enjoyed and spent in good company, when it could be afforded, was present enough for Briony. It was the same present she gave herself everyday, but she'd never ask for any other. Especially not now when Robbie and Cee's happiness seemed so secured.
She had approached the bookshelf only with the intention of finding some light reading for herself. An evening spent curled up with a good book would be a good end to any day. But as she flipped through the pages of a novel that had caught her eye -- the title had escaped her memory now -- she had found something lodged between the pages. A pleasant mood, a lack of awareness and a dullness of senses were her only excuse for what she did then. Removing the sheet of paper from its crevice between the now uninteresting leaves, Briony replaced the book without her interest wavering and unfolded the letter.
She should have known better. How she could have known that it would be that letter -- Robbie's note to Cee that her childish eyes had read before delivering it to her sister with dirty, sap-stained hands -- how she could have known its true identity was beyond her, but she felt that she should have. It began so innocuously, even asking for forgiveness, that upon first glance with knowing eyes, Briony could not fathom how such words could every be interpreted cruelly. But the final lines she could never forget. Reading them now, only the faintest sense of discomfort and shame colored her cheeks, but the guilt assaulted her like a wave beating upon a shore. She dropped the note as if burned and backed away, quickly, falling into a seated position on the sofa rather than stopping.
She stared, wide eyed, breathing unsteady as her mind reeled, frightened by a piece of paper and what it meant here and now.