The mention of something happening to Jamie immediately has Hilda worrying too. Even though Claire's quick to put a stop to the thought herself, that doesn't stop Hilda to reach reach across the table to lightly touch her wrist in support all the same. Perhaps it's needed, especially when Claire continues and the sad expression fills her face.
In the short time that she's seen her, Hilda only ever recalled seeing a look of fond love on Claire's face when it came to speaking about Jamie. She can only assume that the cause is because of the time that John had spent with Jamie instead of her. It sounds like an echo of her situation with Claude - except Jamie and Claire were actually married. She and Claude weren't anything.
The thought makes Hilda's heart clenches and she quickly brushes it aside to focus on Claire. There's a moment of hesitation at Claire's question, because she isn't certain she's asking for her opinion. After a moment though she hazards a guess that she is when there isn't another follow-up thought. "It's tough to say without knowing him that well," she starts, " But have you maybe thought to...ask him?"
Well aware about the irony of her suggesting that isn't lost on Hilda - but because of that she knows that it' something that was far easier said than done.
Claire holds onto Hilda's hand tightly for a moment, squeezing gently before letting go.
"I haven't, because I'm not sure I want to know the answer." Meeting the other woman's eyes, she knows it's absolutely ridiculous, but she's learned not to ask questions she doesn't want the answers to. Still, she wanted to talk this out with someone, and Hilda's one of the people she's closest with, dear to her, even. Who better?
"When Lord John arrived, he was badly beaten and said that Jamie did it after John confessed something to him. They're...quite close. I know for a fact that Jamie trusts him implicitly; there's an entire history there even I don't know all of. So, why would Jamie beat him?"
There are few reasons why that Claire can think of and she's afraid to examine it closely. "Hilda, I know I could ask, but please, you tell me from the information I've given you, what you would assume?"
"It's not ridiculous." That much is said with certainty and conviction. If given the choice, she still isn't certain that she'd want to learn about her death again, but she doesn't regret it. At least she doesn't think so. The part of her still outraged about the fight she'd had with Claude rears its head. Had she been given the choice to decide whether or not she wanted to know the truth about some of her future (or one of them), maybe they would never have fought in the first place. Could have, should have, would have's were all she had now though.
Despite not knowing John, that doesn't mean that hearing news of his state upon arrival is any less concerning or shocking. Particularly when it's Claire's husband who had been the cause of it. Hilda worries her bottom lip, suddenly concerned that she's too young to offer up an opinion on this. She takes the time to formulate the response before starting, albeit a little bit hesitantly.
"Well, knowing that Jamie loves you very much...it had to have had something to do with you, wouldn't it?" And then realizing what that might sound like she's quick to amend herself. "I'm not saying that you did anything intentionally to hurt Jamie, but with all the time traveling maybe you spent time with Lord John - probably in a completely innocent way - and Jamie didn't take it in that context? There's also the possibility that something just happened between them."
She finds herself running out of breath at the end there, trying so desperately not to offend but to at least give Claire an honest opinion because that's what she deserved. "I think the only way to really find out without speculating too much is by asking Lord John," she adds looking as concerned as before.
Something about finally hearing it out of the mouth of someone else makes Claire feel less like she's making something out of nothing. Letting out a soft breath, she nods because Hilda's right.
"I know. I know I need to ask." She wants to explain why she asked Hilda a nearly impossible question, and she reaches back out for her hand, squeezing it in gratitude. "I'm uncertain the answer will be anything I want to hear. If I thought Jamie was dead, I wouldn't—" Now, she's holding onto Hilda just to hold on. "I wouldn't want anyone else."
Letting go, she takes a restorative sip of tea, then tries to relax her shoulders.
"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, and you are right. But once I ask, I can't unknow it. I suppose that's what I'm afraid of; to know that whatever peace and quiet Jamie and I wanted for ourselves doesn't seem to exist is upsetting, to say the least. We've gone through and lost more together than I've even told you, and it seems we're staying the path."
It makes her sad, and it makes her feel heavy. And the thought of going through any piece of it without Jamie knots her stomach. But it's the future, and she can't do anything about it—a lesson learned in the most difficult way imaginable.
Hilda is quick to shake her head. She doesn't feel put on the spot in the least. In fact, she's well aware how personal of a question the one Claire had posed to her had been, and to some degree it meant that the woman trusted her - while somewhat baffling for Hilda, still meant the world to her.
"Just because I'm right doesn't mean I would be brave enough to do it," Hilda says in an attempt to lighten the mood with her own mild self deprecating half smile. She had, after all, only asked Petra because of the mulled wine and forced Claude's hand because her fear and worry had manifested itself into a beast she could no longer control. "But if you've both gone through so much, I can't see much tearing you two apart."
A thought suddenly crosses Hilda's mind and she's quick to perk up. The little gift bag that she had run in with sits at her feet and she quickly picks it up, sliding it across the table towards Claire with her free hand. "I know this won't make things better, but I did have a small gift for you." It shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Nestled in the delicately wrapped gift box is the necklace that Claire had described to her. Hilda fiddles a little nervously with her hands under the table as she opens it, but it doesn't show on her face.
Instead, it shows in her blabbering. "If there's anything you want me to change, let me know. I could get the chain length changed too if you want it shorter or longer. And I engraved the back too with your initials so that if anything happens to it, you know it's yours."
Hilda should give herself some credit - a fifty-year-old plus woman is having a marriage crisis and the advice was spot on. And again, she says something that Claire will remember: being right doesn't necessarily mean bravery has come along for the ride.
The necklace isn't a surprise, no, so she's already smiling in anticipation as she opens the package. As soon as she sees it, everything around her seems to come to a pause and one hand comes to her mouth, fingertips pressing to her lips as her vision blurs.
"Oh, Hilda."
Taking the necklace out of the gift box, she holds it in her palm and stares at it, as if there are a thousand little details to take in. It's because she's stunned and emotional, but she shakes her head at the offer to change anything. Looking at the back, she lightly traces the CF before taking a deep breath, letting it out shakily.
"This is identical to the necklace Bree gave me. Minus the initials on the back, I never would have been able to tell the difference. Thank you, Hilda, so much." Claire cant wait, and she puts it on immediately where it rests perfectly against her throat.
"How does it look? I only had the chance to wear the original once and never got a good look at myself."
The tears are a brief cause for concern. It's hard not to assume that she's somehow misunderstood the assignment given to her, particularly when this was a piece that held so much meaning to Claire.
She wonders if it was a mistake to have engraved Claire's initials on the back, and her mind is tempted to keep spiralling downwards - until she watches as Claire puts the necklace on. "It looks like it was made for you - which it was," Hilda starts, inserting some levity in there in an attempt to dispel her anxiety. Not that she was trying to imply that that was somehow a replacement for the original.
"The colour really suits you too. Bree knew what she was doing when she gave it to you." The smile on her face is genuine; Hilda rarely lied about something looking good on someone if it wasn't true. "I'm just glad that you think that looks as good as the one Bree gave you. I didn't want to get anything wrong considering how precious it was to you."
Hilda does spark a laugh, and Claire presses her hand over her chest, over the necklace.
"It's identical, save for the initials, which are think are a wonderful touch. I think if Bree were to ever see it, she'd never realize it wasn't the same necklace." This time, she won't lose the stone, and she reaches out to squeeze Hilda's hand.
"Thank you again, so very much. And now, I have something to show you, if you have a moment?"
Hilda spots the tears and is quick to reach her other hand into her purse for a handkerchief. "I'd make you any number of necklaces, Claire! You can always just ask me and it'll never be a problem." Extending it out towards the corner of Claire's eyes she dabs away whatever dampness might have been there. It gives her something to do, preoccupying herself so that she doesn't feel too overwhelmed by the showing of emotion lest she tear up too.
"Something for me?" She looks a little surprised, but gives Claire's hand a comforting squeeze back in return. Her demeanour perking up might only be a little bit put on in an attempt to bring some levity back to the situation. "Well you know me. I'll never turn down a good surprise."
"Thank you again, very much." Oh, how she loves Hilda. She smiles softly at the care in her touch, and is glad for what she hopes is a lighter moment.
"Well, not quite. More what you requested." Reaching down into the bag at her side, Claire produces a plant that highly resembles a conifer sort of tree, but is only 24 inches tall, and more reminiscent of something from Hilda's world.
"I know it's a bit...thin. But you mentioned Claude's birthday isn't until July, so there's still time to try something different." Thanks to her magical prodding, she's much further along than even a miniature tree should be. But she's still limited, and still learning.
The small tree had been everything Hilda had been hoping for when she had first posed the idea to Claire. It's adorable, a little bigger than what she had hoped for, but it was a tree so that was to be expected. Her brain immediately begins to spin with ideas on how to create the small terrarium she had in mind.
Suddenly her mind screeches to a halt as reality crashes in and the expression of pleasant surprise on Hilda's face is short lived but when she meets Claire's gaze, she forces the delighted smile back onto her face. It's not easy when she now knows the truth behind Claude's love for Almyrian pine. A bitterness coats her tongue, but that has nothing to do with the woman who had so painstakingly grown this for her. "No, it's perfect! I can probably fill out the terrarium with more foliage and scenery. Thank you so much, Claire."
Waiting with bated breath, the happiness that blooms first makes Claire smile, but there's a flicker of something, there and gone again. It disappears so quickly she can't be sure she saw it, and so she doesn't say anything, at least not at the moment.
"Are you sure? I know you said miniature, and obviously for a tree it is, but there's still time to make adjustments." She needed to say that at least, but she does smile warmly at Hilda.
"You're more than welcome, I was happy to do it. And as a bonus, it helped me flex my new magic, so thank you as well."
Her admission is pulled out of her bit by bit with a sheepish smile. "Well, I was hoping it would be a little bit smaller. But I'll make it work!" The terrariums she had seen were all small, but who's to say that she couldn't make a slightly larger version of it? With a little ingenuity she could make most things in her head come to life.
But that was before she had gotten into a fight with Claude. There were few people she would actually exert more effort than lifting a pinky for and Claude was one of them. Had been one of them. In an effort to dispel the bitter coating in her mouth, Hilda busies herself pouring the tea for the both of them and taking a tentative sip. But a seasoned tea drinker like herself knows it's far too soon and she's met with a burned tongue instead. She winces into the cup before looking up again, face arranged in some semblance of normal.
"Are you growing anything else in your garden with your powers? I'm sure it's such a huge help."
Claire doesn’t look disappointed in herself; after all, she’s never done this before. It was all trial and error and magic. Magic she’s still learning, herself. Instead, she takes note and tries to think of where she might have gone wrong on the sizing.
“As long as you’re sure. I think I could possibly get one to half this; it must be connected to the initial growing stage.” She’s going to ruminate on it anyway, unable to let a puzzle go when she’s almost got it.
Since meeting Hilda, they’ve had a lot of tea together. Never once has she seen the young woman burn her tongue. “Are you alright? Not to pry, it’s only that you seem…a bit flustered.”
Claire puts a pause on Hilda’s question, wanting to make sure first that nothing is wrong.
"Flustered?" She can't help but echo Claire's question back to her like a parrot. A part of her had hoped that she'd move on from the subject and she could make up a convenient half truth about what she'd done with the tree once Claude's birthday came to pass.
Despite herself a mildly strained laugh flutters from her lips. "No, no I'm just -," she starts before stopping herself short. Only moments ago she had come to terms with spinning up some kind of half-truth to give Claire about a tree that she isn't sure she has use for any longer. But lying to Claire might as well have been like lying to her own mother.
She sucks in a breath before letting it out, eyes darting away and keeping a firm gaze at the liquid in her cup. Inside her mind, she debates the pros and cons of admitting to Claire something that she shouldn't involve her in. After all, they had already inadvertently involved Sylvain. Her fingers curl tight around the porcelain, recalling the fight that she'd had with Claude all over again. Before she can lose the nerve, the words are forced out of her, but they're more of a mumble than anything else. "I might have gotten in a fight with Claude."
Claire waits patiently, taking a delicate sip of her tea. If Hilda wants to talk about it, she will. And if not, Claire won't push, just worry from afar. The last thing she wants to do is smother her—Hilda's a grown woman after all. But then the quiet truth comes out and her shoulders sink; she likes Claude immensely as well, so hearing that two of her favorite people are arguing deflates her a bit.
"Oh, Hilda, I'm sorry. I know that must feel awful." One hand reaches out to squeeze hers in support. "Please know I'm here if you'd like to talk about it, or we can completely ignore it and leave here to go drown ourselves in sweets."
Whatever the young woman needs; she's been so much of a support to Claire, a light. The least she can do is attempt to listen if needed.
The corners of Hilda's lips lift ever so slightly. A laugh flutters from her lips although it's a weak one, with hardly any mirth in it. "Well, you know me, I'm never going to say no to drowning myself in sweets,"
Maybe it would be worth talking about with Claire. A small, internal battle rages. It hadn't been that long since their spa date disaster with Sylvain and the sting of being scolded is still fresh. She knew that Claude had met Claire - the last thing she wanted to do was involve someone else and put them in an uncomfortable position.
But if there was anyone who might be able to be neutral third party...maybe it would be Claire. She returns her squeeze. "It does and it doesn't," she starts, "I just...I thought we told each other everything but he kept some really important things from me. And those are just the things I had inklings of." The furrow in her brow is less sad and more frustrated as she recalls their fight.
"I knew he kept things from me at home but I was fine with it then - but I'm not now." Her gaze meets Claire's as if trying to search for some form of validation for her hurt. "That's okay, isn't it? To have your feelings change?"
"Darling, of course it is," Claire says first. Because it is okay, though that doesn't always mean it makes things alright for the other person.
"Bear in mind that I don't know what he's told you, and it's entirely up to you whether or not you feel you can tell me that part of it. But...is it possible there were things left unsaid because of how it might hurt either of you?"
Usually, omitting things is to keep from inflicting unnecessary pain. Her mind briefly flickers to the fact that Jamie married the woman who tried to murder her, during Claire's 20 year absence. If he'd told her his own way instead of her finding out accidentally, would she have felt any better?
"Even if that's the case, you're still right. Feelings change as time passes, that's perfectly normal."
There's a part of Hilda that wants to tell Claire everything, pour out her heart about all of the hurt that she had been carrying for months that had ended up morphing into a completely different beast comprised of jealousy and anger. She had been so sorely missing the people that she would feel comfortable enough doing that around, missing those that she could show her vast array of emotions to even if they didn't necessarily align with what her delicate flower facade.
Hilda's comfort level with Claire already surpassed the point where she felt like she could let some of her glass walls down. But the fear that it would change Claire's perception of her still persisted. Regardless of what she wants though, the frustration winning out over the caution.
"I gave him a chance to say whatever it was he wanted to say but he just evaded it," she starts, annoyance creeping into her voice, "All I wanted was the truth but it's been seven months since I arrived here. He's had plenty of time to tell me those things and he didn't. There were things about the war - about our friends not making it - that he didn't tell me. And I think I deserve to know that, don't you?" Her gaze had dropped to her teacup and they turn to Claire again.
That was perhaps where some of her hurt lay. That despite everything that they had gone through, through all the moments they'd had, he still chose to withhold things from her. She swallows, some hurt creeping into her words this time. "If he didn't want to be my best friend anymore, he should have just said so."
Claire listens patiently, trying to stay objective. Asking someone outright and not getting a straight answer—especially when it involves you—is understandably difficult to get past. The fact that it's someone she deeply cares for adds another layer to things.
"Before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you one of my own," she says gently, reaching for Hilda's hand and holding on.
"As your best friend, is it possible that he had the best of intentions in mind and was trying to protect you? Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, is that what he might have been attempting to do?"
She thinks of the twenty years she didn't tell the truth to Brianna, and how awful that had gone when it all finally came out. It wasn't just that Frank forbade Claire from speaking about Jamie; she would have found a way if she'd truly wanted. But it wouldn't have done anyone any good, and then her daughter would have had unanswerable questions, so what was the point? Except that there was a wedge between them that grew and grew, until a canyon existed between them, filled with the secrets of Claire's past.
At Claire's touch and words, Hilda immediately stills. It's not so unlike moments she'd had with her own mother growing up when she had been having some kind of outburst or was upset. All it took most of the time was a soothing voice, and safe space to bring her back down to earth.
But even Claire's very rational question isn't enough to dispel the hurt and doubt that had been festering in Hilda's body for the last several months. For the first time since her fight with Claude, Hilda can't help but feel unsteady even as she grips Claire's hand in return. "He admitted as much," she starts, shifting slightly in her seat. There's a reluctance in her voice, as if she can't bear to bring herself to forgive him.
"Back home -," she starts haltingly as her other hand clenches into a fist in her lap, "he was just planning on leaving after the war. He wasn't going to say anything to anyone. Not to our friends, not to me."
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In the short time that she's seen her, Hilda only ever recalled seeing a look of fond love on Claire's face when it came to speaking about Jamie. She can only assume that the cause is because of the time that John had spent with Jamie instead of her. It sounds like an echo of her situation with Claude - except Jamie and Claire were actually married. She and Claude weren't anything.
The thought makes Hilda's heart clenches and she quickly brushes it aside to focus on Claire. There's a moment of hesitation at Claire's question, because she isn't certain she's asking for her opinion. After a moment though she hazards a guess that she is when there isn't another follow-up thought. "It's tough to say without knowing him that well," she starts, " But have you maybe thought to...ask him?"
Well aware about the irony of her suggesting that isn't lost on Hilda - but because of that she knows that it' something that was far easier said than done.
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"I haven't, because I'm not sure I want to know the answer." Meeting the other woman's eyes, she knows it's absolutely ridiculous, but she's learned not to ask questions she doesn't want the answers to. Still, she wanted to talk this out with someone, and Hilda's one of the people she's closest with, dear to her, even. Who better?
"When Lord John arrived, he was badly beaten and said that Jamie did it after John confessed something to him. They're...quite close. I know for a fact that Jamie trusts him implicitly; there's an entire history there even I don't know all of. So, why would Jamie beat him?"
There are few reasons why that Claire can think of and she's afraid to examine it closely. "Hilda, I know I could ask, but please, you tell me from the information I've given you, what you would assume?"
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Despite not knowing John, that doesn't mean that hearing news of his state upon arrival is any less concerning or shocking. Particularly when it's Claire's husband who had been the cause of it. Hilda worries her bottom lip, suddenly concerned that she's too young to offer up an opinion on this. She takes the time to formulate the response before starting, albeit a little bit hesitantly.
"Well, knowing that Jamie loves you very much...it had to have had something to do with you, wouldn't it?" And then realizing what that might sound like she's quick to amend herself. "I'm not saying that you did anything intentionally to hurt Jamie, but with all the time traveling maybe you spent time with Lord John - probably in a completely innocent way - and Jamie didn't take it in that context? There's also the possibility that something just happened between them."
She finds herself running out of breath at the end there, trying so desperately not to offend but to at least give Claire an honest opinion because that's what she deserved. "I think the only way to really find out without speculating too much is by asking Lord John," she adds looking as concerned as before.
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"I know. I know I need to ask." She wants to explain why she asked Hilda a nearly impossible question, and she reaches back out for her hand, squeezing it in gratitude. "I'm uncertain the answer will be anything I want to hear. If I thought Jamie was dead, I wouldn't—" Now, she's holding onto Hilda just to hold on. "I wouldn't want anyone else."
Letting go, she takes a restorative sip of tea, then tries to relax her shoulders.
"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, and you are right. But once I ask, I can't unknow it. I suppose that's what I'm afraid of; to know that whatever peace and quiet Jamie and I wanted for ourselves doesn't seem to exist is upsetting, to say the least. We've gone through and lost more together than I've even told you, and it seems we're staying the path."
It makes her sad, and it makes her feel heavy. And the thought of going through any piece of it without Jamie knots her stomach. But it's the future, and she can't do anything about it—a lesson learned in the most difficult way imaginable.
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"Just because I'm right doesn't mean I would be brave enough to do it," Hilda says in an attempt to lighten the mood with her own mild self deprecating half smile. She had, after all, only asked Petra because of the mulled wine and forced Claude's hand because her fear and worry had manifested itself into a beast she could no longer control. "But if you've both gone through so much, I can't see much tearing you two apart."
A thought suddenly crosses Hilda's mind and she's quick to perk up. The little gift bag that she had run in with sits at her feet and she quickly picks it up, sliding it across the table towards Claire with her free hand. "I know this won't make things better, but I did have a small gift for you." It shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Nestled in the delicately wrapped gift box is the necklace that Claire had described to her. Hilda fiddles a little nervously with her hands under the table as she opens it, but it doesn't show on her face.
Instead, it shows in her blabbering. "If there's anything you want me to change, let me know. I could get the chain length changed too if you want it shorter or longer. And I engraved the back too with your initials so that if anything happens to it, you know it's yours."
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The necklace isn't a surprise, no, so she's already smiling in anticipation as she opens the package. As soon as she sees it, everything around her seems to come to a pause and one hand comes to her mouth, fingertips pressing to her lips as her vision blurs.
"Oh, Hilda."
Taking the necklace out of the gift box, she holds it in her palm and stares at it, as if there are a thousand little details to take in. It's because she's stunned and emotional, but she shakes her head at the offer to change anything. Looking at the back, she lightly traces the CF before taking a deep breath, letting it out shakily.
"This is identical to the necklace Bree gave me. Minus the initials on the back, I never would have been able to tell the difference. Thank you, Hilda, so much." Claire cant wait, and she puts it on immediately where it rests perfectly against her throat.
"How does it look? I only had the chance to wear the original once and never got a good look at myself."
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She wonders if it was a mistake to have engraved Claire's initials on the back, and her mind is tempted to keep spiralling downwards - until she watches as Claire puts the necklace on. "It looks like it was made for you - which it was," Hilda starts, inserting some levity in there in an attempt to dispel her anxiety. Not that she was trying to imply that that was somehow a replacement for the original.
"The colour really suits you too. Bree knew what she was doing when she gave it to you." The smile on her face is genuine; Hilda rarely lied about something looking good on someone if it wasn't true. "I'm just glad that you think that looks as good as the one Bree gave you. I didn't want to get anything wrong considering how precious it was to you."
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"It's identical, save for the initials, which are think are a wonderful touch. I think if Bree were to ever see it, she'd never realize it wasn't the same necklace." This time, she won't lose the stone, and she reaches out to squeeze Hilda's hand.
"Thank you again, so very much. And now, I have something to show you, if you have a moment?"
She may also be wiping away any hint of tears.
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"Something for me?" She looks a little surprised, but gives Claire's hand a comforting squeeze back in return. Her demeanour perking up might only be a little bit put on in an attempt to bring some levity back to the situation. "Well you know me. I'll never turn down a good surprise."
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"Well, not quite. More what you requested." Reaching down into the bag at her side, Claire produces a plant that highly resembles a conifer sort of tree, but is only 24 inches tall, and more reminiscent of something from Hilda's world.
"I know it's a bit...thin. But you mentioned Claude's birthday isn't until July, so there's still time to try something different." Thanks to her magical prodding, she's much further along than even a miniature tree should be. But she's still limited, and still learning.
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Suddenly her mind screeches to a halt as reality crashes in and the expression of pleasant surprise on Hilda's face is short lived but when she meets Claire's gaze, she forces the delighted smile back onto her face. It's not easy when she now knows the truth behind Claude's love for Almyrian pine. A bitterness coats her tongue, but that has nothing to do with the woman who had so painstakingly grown this for her. "No, it's perfect! I can probably fill out the terrarium with more foliage and scenery. Thank you so much, Claire."
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"Are you sure? I know you said miniature, and obviously for a tree it is, but there's still time to make adjustments." She needed to say that at least, but she does smile warmly at Hilda.
"You're more than welcome, I was happy to do it. And as a bonus, it helped me flex my new magic, so thank you as well."
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But that was before she had gotten into a fight with Claude. There were few people she would actually exert more effort than lifting a pinky for and Claude was one of them. Had been one of them. In an effort to dispel the bitter coating in her mouth, Hilda busies herself pouring the tea for the both of them and taking a tentative sip. But a seasoned tea drinker like herself knows it's far too soon and she's met with a burned tongue instead. She winces into the cup before looking up again, face arranged in some semblance of normal.
"Are you growing anything else in your garden with your powers? I'm sure it's such a huge help."
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“As long as you’re sure. I think I could possibly get one to half this; it must be connected to the initial growing stage.” She’s going to ruminate on it anyway, unable to let a puzzle go when she’s almost got it.
Since meeting Hilda, they’ve had a lot of tea together. Never once has she seen the young woman burn her tongue. “Are you alright? Not to pry, it’s only that you seem…a bit flustered.”
Claire puts a pause on Hilda’s question, wanting to make sure first that nothing is wrong.
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Despite herself a mildly strained laugh flutters from her lips. "No, no I'm just -," she starts before stopping herself short. Only moments ago she had come to terms with spinning up some kind of half-truth to give Claire about a tree that she isn't sure she has use for any longer. But lying to Claire might as well have been like lying to her own mother.
She sucks in a breath before letting it out, eyes darting away and keeping a firm gaze at the liquid in her cup. Inside her mind, she debates the pros and cons of admitting to Claire something that she shouldn't involve her in. After all, they had already inadvertently involved Sylvain. Her fingers curl tight around the porcelain, recalling the fight that she'd had with Claude all over again. Before she can lose the nerve, the words are forced out of her, but they're more of a mumble than anything else. "I might have gotten in a fight with Claude."
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"Oh, Hilda, I'm sorry. I know that must feel awful." One hand reaches out to squeeze hers in support. "Please know I'm here if you'd like to talk about it, or we can completely ignore it and leave here to go drown ourselves in sweets."
Whatever the young woman needs; she's been so much of a support to Claire, a light. The least she can do is attempt to listen if needed.
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Maybe it would be worth talking about with Claire. A small, internal battle rages. It hadn't been that long since their spa date disaster with Sylvain and the sting of being scolded is still fresh. She knew that Claude had met Claire - the last thing she wanted to do was involve someone else and put them in an uncomfortable position.
But if there was anyone who might be able to be neutral third party...maybe it would be Claire. She returns her squeeze. "It does and it doesn't," she starts, "I just...I thought we told each other everything but he kept some really important things from me. And those are just the things I had inklings of." The furrow in her brow is less sad and more frustrated as she recalls their fight.
"I knew he kept things from me at home but I was fine with it then - but I'm not now." Her gaze meets Claire's as if trying to search for some form of validation for her hurt. "That's okay, isn't it? To have your feelings change?"
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"Bear in mind that I don't know what he's told you, and it's entirely up to you whether or not you feel you can tell me that part of it. But...is it possible there were things left unsaid because of how it might hurt either of you?"
Usually, omitting things is to keep from inflicting unnecessary pain. Her mind briefly flickers to the fact that Jamie married the woman who tried to murder her, during Claire's 20 year absence. If he'd told her his own way instead of her finding out accidentally, would she have felt any better?
"Even if that's the case, you're still right. Feelings change as time passes, that's perfectly normal."
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Hilda's comfort level with Claire already surpassed the point where she felt like she could let some of her glass walls down. But the fear that it would change Claire's perception of her still persisted. Regardless of what she wants though, the frustration winning out over the caution.
"I gave him a chance to say whatever it was he wanted to say but he just evaded it," she starts, annoyance creeping into her voice, "All I wanted was the truth but it's been seven months since I arrived here. He's had plenty of time to tell me those things and he didn't. There were things about the war - about our friends not making it - that he didn't tell me. And I think I deserve to know that, don't you?" Her gaze had dropped to her teacup and they turn to Claire again.
That was perhaps where some of her hurt lay. That despite everything that they had gone through, through all the moments they'd had, he still chose to withhold things from her. She swallows, some hurt creeping into her words this time. "If he didn't want to be my best friend anymore, he should have just said so."
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"Before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you one of my own," she says gently, reaching for Hilda's hand and holding on.
"As your best friend, is it possible that he had the best of intentions in mind and was trying to protect you? Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, is that what he might have been attempting to do?"
She thinks of the twenty years she didn't tell the truth to Brianna, and how awful that had gone when it all finally came out. It wasn't just that Frank forbade Claire from speaking about Jamie; she would have found a way if she'd truly wanted. But it wouldn't have done anyone any good, and then her daughter would have had unanswerable questions, so what was the point? Except that there was a wedge between them that grew and grew, until a canyon existed between them, filled with the secrets of Claire's past.
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But even Claire's very rational question isn't enough to dispel the hurt and doubt that had been festering in Hilda's body for the last several months. For the first time since her fight with Claude, Hilda can't help but feel unsteady even as she grips Claire's hand in return. "He admitted as much," she starts, shifting slightly in her seat. There's a reluctance in her voice, as if she can't bear to bring herself to forgive him.
"Back home -," she starts haltingly as her other hand clenches into a fist in her lap, "he was just planning on leaving after the war. He wasn't going to say anything to anyone. Not to our friends, not to me."