After writing clean copies of her letters, they set out. Oliver only got half of his planned dresses. The shop girl, while confused by how little Estella knew, helpfully explained that women usually had five day dresses and a few others for different occasions. Since Estella saw no need for special occasions, and indeed Oliver wasn’t likely to be put into such a situation anyway, he relented on the number of dresses.

Clothes shopping took most of the day but before they went back to the house, Oliver brought her to the city library. Scratching the back of his head, he explained that there wasn’t much for them to do at the house while they waited for the letters. She happily accepted this change in their plans.

Seeing the excitement light her face, the corners of his mouth tipped up. “We can go to museums too, and maybe lectures. Certainly shows, if you’d like too.”

Her cheeks warmed at his offerings. They were made out of kindness, maybe pity, for her unfortunate situation but he looked so eager that she accepted him.

The library was located on Michigan Street and built in the classical style with its large masonry walls. She had seen many such designs in Paris. Oliver took her around to the main entrance on Washington Street, where inside they were greeted with a vaulted lobby, marble walls, and mosaics.

She stood silently behind him while Oliver registered them at the front desk. They were closing soon, the librarian warned, but she could be quick—she did grow up in a library, afterall. While Oliver was signing and filling out forms, she sniffed out the card catalog and found two books that would be good rereads and she wanted a glance at their academic offerings.

Cards given and received, she shuffled away from Oliver and wound her way through the stacks. First, she picked up the books she already had in mind before hurrying over to the history section. The books here were unfamiliar to her and mostly concerned United States history and England—an uninspired collection. Nothing close to what she was hoping for.

She passed a small Science section filled with books about dinosaurs. Huffing, Estella returned to the front desk with five minutes left on the clock. Three minutes left when the library handed the books back.

Don’t ask don’t ask don’t ask they are closing soon don’t ask—”Do you have any books about time? Or time travel? Anything at all?” Damn her, she could have come back.

Two minutes left. The woman flipped her hand towards the stacks. “Check the catalog.”

“I did.” She ground out.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Then there is nothing.” Her eyes flicked over Estella’s head. “We’re closing now. You will have to come back tomorrow.”

Sighing, Estella accepted defeat and turned to Oliver who looked at her with a downward expression. Unable to bear it, she walked towards the door. Once on the sidewalk he simply said, “We’ll go to the university library tomorrow.”

They were silent the rest of the way back to the house at the end of the street. Mrs Klein had dinner waiting for them, which Oliver profused over while shooing her out the door as politely as he could, promising to clean up after dinner himself. She was horrified by the notion and looked to Estella for reassurance. The older woman must have seen the lack of help in her bemused expression and tried to protest her way back into the home but Oliver was able to get the upper hand again, calmly charming her right out the door.

Collapsing into the dining chair opposite from her, Oliver finally approached the subject: “So, time travel?”

She stabbed her ham. “I have to start somewhere, Oliver. If I could just get an idea of it, maybe I can make a picture.” Her frustration leaked into her speech, her French accent almost thickening the vowels beyond recognition.

“A picture?”

“Yes, a picture. A portrait. A photograph. An artistic rendition of a scene. If I can get the tools one, perhaps I can create something out of it, a message or even a way home.” A sob choked the rest of the words wanting to explode from within her. Maybe … maybe … maybe …

Impossible. It was impossible. Everything felt so impossible. She shoved her plate away. Even eating was impossible. She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide the appalling emotions coursing through her. She had to stay positive. Stay hopeful. Her family needed her to come home. Not because she’s special, or because the world will end, but simply because they were her family and it is awful to not have your family.

Low, slow footsteps. The scratching of the chair legs next to her on the hardwood floor. Oliver’s low voice next to her head, “You will.”

You will. Such a mundane statement had her chest blooming with warmth. Without thought, one of her hands reached for him, cupping his face then his neck then landing on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Maybe he truly believed in her, maybe he was merely offering words of encouragement and comfort. Regardless, she appreciated it.

While her hand touched him, he looked at her with wide, dazed eyes. When she pulled away, his voice softly spoke, “You’re welcome.” He sounded very far away. In a moment he recovered, his expression became unaffected and he returned to his seat across from her and picked up his newspaper.

Estella sat with the feelings Oliver’s plain belief invoked in her while she struggled through the rest of her food. They were familiar, those emotions of warmth and faith, of emotional security with the person sitting next to you. It was how she felt in the presence of her family. After so long away from then, she reveled in the feelings of home they inspired, only half listening as Oliver recounted newspaper stories to her from the safety of the other side of the page.

The rest of the evening was wonderfully calm. As promised, Oliver cleaned up after dinner while she indulged in a painfully neglected hobby: reading. He soon joined her and then before she knew it, the day was well and truly over and she was going to bed.

Not all days would be this pleasant, she knew, but Estella enjoyed the quiet moments with him while she could.