Chapter 32
Happy Days

Mrs. Etman expressed her welcome with a table full of food and lovely decorations. Not only Layla, but also Dr. Etman and Kyle, were taken aback by the warmth of such hospitality.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Etman.”

With the greeting she had rehearsed dozens of times that day, Layla presented the gift she had prepared: a jar of preserved peaches and a bouquet of roses.

“Thank you, dear.”

Mrs. Etman accepted it graciously. Layla’s relieved smile bloomed, and Kyle’s lips curved in response. Watching her son, however, Mrs. Etman’s eyes turned cold before quickly regaining their usual light.

Dr. Etman had said that once the exam results came out, the children should be married. Kyle’s acceptance was certain, and Layla’s as well. Their marriage was, for all intents and purposes, already decided.

My son… with a girl like her. In this way…

Beneath the table, Mrs. Etman clenched her hands together. It was outrageous, but she kept her objections hidden. She knew her husband and son too well. Loud opposition would only backfire.

“Eat plenty, Layla. I made sure to prepare the things you like.”

Her face softening, Mrs. Etman looked at her with warmth. Layla blinked in surprise, then smiled radiantly. That pretty smile kindled a strange anger within her.

That face. That smile. That’s how she bewitched my son.

The thought startled even herself. With a shiver, she grabbed her water glass. The cold sip down her throat felt far too vivid.

“Truly, thank you.”

Layla’s gratitude was sincere, her smile shy.

She really is a kind and good child. Mrs. Etman knew it too well. And that, in itself, became another reason she could never accept her as a daughter-in-law.

If only there were some flaw in her, it would have been easier. If she had something worth despising, worth resenting, then Mrs. Etman wouldn’t feel like such a wretched person for opposing her.

Now she despised everything about Layla Llewellyn. Her kindness, her intelligence, even her pitiful circumstances.

“Layla, there’s a Professor Lorenz at Latz University—an authority in ornithology,” Dr. Etman suddenly interjected, sensing his wife’s stiffening expression.

“When you enroll, make sure you take his classes. A scholar like him will be an invaluable mentor.”

“My goodness. You speak as though Layla has already been admitted.”

The words slipped from Mrs. Etman before she could stop herself. Her husband and son looked at her in confusion.

“There’s no chance she failed,” Dr. Etman said firmly.

“Exactly. Mother, there’s no way Layla won’t pass,” Kyle added.

How could their faces, their voices, even their affection toward the girl be so alike? Forcing down the bitterness rising in her throat, Mrs. Etman put on a pleasant smile.

“You’re right. Layla is a very clever child.”

She smiled, and across the table Layla smiled back shyly.

Bill Remmer had kept silent about her past. The only story the people of Arvis knew was that she had lost her parents overnight, drifted from one relative’s house to another, and eventually ended up here in Berck.

And it was precisely that which Linda Etman hated most. A family without a single relative willing to take her in. Cast aside again and again until she was pushed across the Border. Just imagining the lowliness of her roots made her skin crawl.

It wasn’t even as though she was asking for much.

If only Layla had come from an ordinary family, she wouldn’t have needed to resort to such pettiness. But a girl with no foundation could never become the mistress of a household. A girl who, on top of that, dared to dream of university? It grated all the more. It reeked of ambition beyond her station. Could Kyle possibly be happy married to someone like that?

No. She had to stop it.

Beneath the table, Mrs. Etman clasped her hands tightly. One way or another, she would put an end to this marriage.

News of Layla Llewellyn’s admission arrived via the very postman who, years ago, had delivered little Layla to Arvis.

Layla was out walking in the woods when the letter arrived. Bill Remmer stood frozen for a long time, holding the notice in his calloused hands.

“Mr. Remmer?”

The postman eyed him with concern when no reply came to his congratulations. Bill’s weathered face had flushed red.

“Are you alright, Mr. Remmer?”

“…No need to fuss.”

Bill scrubbed roughly at his eyes with a large hand.

“I was just thinking, that’s all.”

He barked louder than necessary, but his eyes were already wet. The postman, knowing the gruff gardener’s soft heart, wisely pretended not to notice.

“Well then, congratulations again. Layla, a student of the Empire’s finest university—why, it warms even my heart.”

Leaving his blessing, the postman departed.

Bill carried the acceptance letter to the porch. Sitting down, he read it again and again, running a finger over the paper. His face gradually cooled back to normal with deep breaths. That was when Layla returned.

“Uncle!”

She spotted him and waved, running toward him. The worn leather satchel on her shoulder bounced with each step.

“That bag again.”

He chuckled wryly under his breath. It was the old tool bag he had given her the summer she arrived. She had owned nicer ones since, yet for every walk in the woods, she chose that battered satchel.

“When are you going to throw that thing out?”

He grumbled as she sat beside him.

“Throw it out? It’s still perfectly fine.”

“That poor bag would curse you for overwork if it could speak.”

“I’ll use it just a little longer.”

Her fingers toyed with the frayed strap as she smiled faintly.

“I’d miss it if it were gone.”

Stubborn fool.

Suppressing a sigh, Bill handed her the letter.

“What’s this, Uncle?”

“Read it.”

Eyes widening, she took it. He expected a cheer, a cry of joy. Instead, as she read, her expression grew calmer and calmer.

“…Layla?”

Her quiet unsettled him. Finally she looked up, her face serene with a small smile.

At times like this, I wish she’d act her age.

Her composure embarrassed him, and he scratched at his neck awkwardly. Then, suddenly, her face broke into a radiant smile. Before he could react, she flung herself into his arms.

“Such fuss,” he muttered, though his hand on her back was gentle.

“Thank you.”

She lifted her head at last, voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you so much, Uncle.”

Her eyes, brimming with tears, shone as she smiled brightly.

“It’s all thanks to you.”

“What foolish talk.”

Bill drew a deep breath, counting numbers in his head, reminding himself of the tasks left before sundown. Still, the sting in his eyes would not fade. He was now certain of it: Layla must have brought her tear ducts with her from Rovita.

“You studied. You took the exam. You passed. I did nothing.”

“No. That’s not true, Uncle.”

Layla shook her head fiercely and caught his hand. Her two hands barely encircled one of his.

“If it weren’t for you, I…”

She looked ready to weep. That was what frightened him most. He never wanted to see Layla cry—not even tears of joy.

She should always be smiling. All the love and care he had lavished on flowers and trees over a lifetime, none of it came close to what he felt for this child. No bloom, no tree was dearer than she.

Somewhere along the way, it had become so. And Bill accepted it.

“Next weekend, we’ll go to the capital.”

He cleared his throat, steadying himself, then spoke in a forced cheerful tone.

“Just the two of us, to Latz?” Layla’s eyes widened.

“You’ve been admitted. We’ll pay your tuition, complete your enrollment. And you ought to see the city too. I’ve never taken you anywhere, so it’s about time.”

“Really?”

Her tear-bright eyes now sparkled with excitement.

“A trip? With you, Uncle? Really?”

“It’s not a trip. We’re going to pay tuition.”

“Still!”

Her joy pierced him with bittersweet regret. He should have listened when Madam Mona nagged that he didn’t know how to raise a girl. He should have taken her places, shown her beautiful sights, treated her to good food. Why only now, when the time had come to let her go?

“It’s a lot of money. And I can’t have you going off alone with Kyle again, so I’ll just have to…”

Embarrassed by his own rambling, he laughed aloud. Layla threw her arms around him once more.

“See, Layla? Didn’t I tell you?”

He patted her head, his smile softening.

“You’ll grow into a fine woman yet.”

Words so small could not capture what he felt, but he had nothing better. So he stroked her hair again and again.

To keep from disgracefully sniffling, Bill Remmer had to count much higher this time.