Hugo was in an apron chopping onions when Hildebrand entered the kitchen.

“What took you?” he asked.

“Oh Dear Altamea,” Hildebrand uttered. She needed her entire palm to stifle her laughter.

“And you must be Hildebrand,” an older woman said. It was an old face Hildebrand looked forward to seeing, and yet she was still surprised.

“Hello,” Hildebrand said with a curtsy. “I’m Hildebrand,” she confirmed, “I’m very pleased to meet you.” The Gisella Hildebrand could scarcely recall the face of was a wilder woman, full of energy that matched a younger Rinaldo’s might. The first time Hildebrand had seen Gisella was when she was cloaked in the long robes and coif of a holy woman. The second time was when Gisella came riding in on a racing steed back from a crusade, her long brown hair whipping in the air like a banner of the Church. Both times she had a fire in her eyes and a spirit for adventure that came back to haunt her. What Hildebrand saw in the eyes of the woman before her now was the quiet dwelling deep within a calm sea.

Gisella took both of Hildebrand’s hands and smiled. “I’m Gisella, and I’m very glad to meet you too,” she said.

Hildebrand was ashamed to wear the mask of the smiling Saintess again, but she had no choice. It was the only way to stiffen her trembling lip. To quell old memories and the emotions they elicited.

“I heard Hugo’s been working you to the bone,” Gisella said. “That boy doesn’t have a single delicate bone in his body.”

“I’m haven’t,” Hugo whined.

Hildebrand shook her head. “He hasn—” Hildebrand giggled, and she giggled again. “He is,” she admitted. “He’s a slave driver.”

“That’s not true,” Hugo said, pointing at Hildebrand. “Not true. At all! I’ve only been working her an appropriate amount.” He gestured with his hands the size of the work he had been making Hildebrand do. It was about the size of a gourd.

“Oh hush,” Gisella said, waving her hand at him. She rubbed Hildebrand’s shoulders, and then brushed her hair with the gentle hand of a patient mother. “You go and take a seat,” Gisella told Hildebrand. “Try the bread, it’s my secret recipe.”

Hildebrand nodded and thanked the woman, then discreetly stuck her tongue out at Hugo. She sat at the table, watching the two work. Hugo was a natural. Hildebrand knew he had something of a knack for roasting wild game over a fire, but he handled a kitchen knife just as well. He fit in effortlessly, just like a puzzle piece that had found its rightful place.

Maybe he found his missing pieces, Hildebrand considered.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice the creeping girl until she was in Hildebrand’s face. Hildebrand almost dropped the roll she had been caressing.

“Wah!”

The smiling girl jumped back like a cat, only to approach again when Hildebrand waved for her. It was Aurelia, the girl in the family portrait. But her hair was paler, more like copper than the dark and rich hair portrayed in the painting.

“Hi,” Hildebrand said, offering the roll like a treat. “I’m Hildebrand.”

The girl disregarded the offering and simply asked, “Are you a princess?”

Hildebrand smiled and shook her head. “No.” She wanted to laugh. It wasn’t the first time she had heard that, but it was possibly the first time anyone had meant it exactly as it sounded, with no ulterior motives. That made her want to laugh all the more, to laugh bitterly at the innocent compliment. But she kept her mouth shut tight.

“But you look like one,” Aurelia insisted. “Like in the stories.”

“You’re very sweet. But those are just stories,” Hildebrand said.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Then are you an angel?” the girl asked.

“I—” Hildebrand let out a little huff, as quietly as possible.

“That’s what she says,” Hugo said. “Believe it or not.” That cheeky remark earned him a slap on the shoulder from Gisella.

“Wow!” Aurelia gasped. “Really?”

Hildebrand’s smile faded. “No, sweetie. Not really.”

“But you look like one,” the young girl insisted. “You’re so pretty. I wish I was as pretty as you.” Aurelia clutched her copper hair innocently. There was no deeper meaning or deeper doubt dwelling in her voice. It was just the admiration and envy of a child.

Hildebrand remembered that feeling well. She was feeling it now, as she looked at Aurelia—the copper-haired girl who had the good fortune of being the Renzis’ daughter, who had a loving family, who had a certain chubbiness to her, who had a safe and warm home, and had neither the weight of life on her shoulders, nor the guilt of blood on her hands. But a deeper feeling undercut that shallow envy, the desire to give all those things to the young girl that stood before Hildebrand.

“You are pretty,” Hildebrand said to the girl who kept tilting her head back and forth. As Aurelia’s hazel eyes went green in the light, words slipped out of Hildebrand’s mouth. “You’re beautiful,” she said, brushing Aurelia’s hair back with her hand. “So don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Mmm.” Aurelia seemed a little unsatisfied with the answer. Her flat lips and glazing eyes looked at Hildebrand with expectations that Hildebrand didn’t know what to do with.

Hildebrand blinked a few times, and then a few more before sighing. Perhaps it wasn’t just the innocent envy of a child after all. It was the coy words of a trickster—wise beyond her years—fishing for consolation. Hildebrand pulled one of the silver coins she had kept and held it up to Aurelia. The shiny coin immediately caught the girl’s attention, even more so when Hildebrand made it disappear into thin air with a sleight of hand.

“What’s this?” Hildebrand said, pulling the coin out from behind Aurelia’s ear.

“Wow!”

And with a swish of her hand, Hildebrand held two coins between her fingers.

Hildebrand placed the coins in Aurelia’s expectant hands. The life Hildebrand had led was useful more often than she cared to admit. The little trick was something that came to her after she had picked many pockets and hid the contents from many snooping noses.

“Go put it in your piggy bank,” Hildebrand said, patting the girl’s head.

The way Aurelia escaped, with a greedy glee, made Hildebrand laugh.

“Adorable, isn’t she?” Gisella asked.

“Yes,” Hildebrand answered. But it wasn’t why she laughed. She laughed because the resemblance was uncanny. And then Hildebrand laughed again.

Just a little, Hildebrand thought. She was just a little cute.

“She’s a little troublemaker,” Gisella added.

The noise coming from the other side of the house and the distant, surprised cries of “Aurelia!” made that clear enough. When Hildebrand was done laughing, the young girl had returned with Hugo in tow. Or a young man who resembled Hugo closely.

“H-h—” the young man stammered. He shouted “Hello!” at the top of his lungs. “I’m Elio!” His face was red with blush and his breathing was heavy. Hildebrand wasn’t sure if it was because he was exhausted or for another reason. He sweated like someone who had just sprinted miles. On the other hand, his gaze scattered to every part of the room, except where Hildebrand sat.

“Hello,” Hildebrand said, taking the teen’s hand. “I’m Hildebrand.” She shook it. “Nice to finally meet you, Elio.”

His lips curled into a smile, then fell flat, and then smiled again before opening awkwardly like he had something to say, only to not say anything at all. He quietly shuffled his feet, inching away.

Before Hildebrand could say anything, he ran off to the kitchen and then around a corner.

“Bro!” he yelled in the distance. “Who’s that!”

“Huh?” Hugo said. “Who?”

“That angel!”

Hildebrand giggled, and then laughed. She laughed as Aurelia held her arms out to be held. She laughed until supper was served.

***

When the family and Hildebrand were all seated at the table the joyous sounds of the household came to a rest.

“You know,” Hugo said. “Hildebrand is a holy woman.”

“Oh yes, I believe you mentioned that,” Rinaldo said looking to Hildebrand. All eyes at the dinner table were on her.

“Oh. Yes,” she said.

“Maybe she can say grace,” Hugo said. He tried to resist the creeping smirk on his face.

“That—"

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Rinaldo said. It earned him a nudge from Gisella.

“Don’t pressure our young guest,” Gisella said in a hushed voice.

It came as a relief. But Aurelia’s expectant eyes rested heavily on Hildebrand. Unlike the sheepish Elio, who still averted his gaze, Aurelia locked in like a hawk with round, innocent eyes.

I wonder if I was like that, thought Hildebrand. Probably not.

Hildebrand clasped her hands together. “I’d be happy to,” she said. That was what she had said, but when heads were bowed the words didn’t come easily. It was hard to speak with someone she hadn’t spoken to in years.

“Goddess Altamea,” Hildebrand heaved. It was like greeting an old friend, one with whom she had long since parted ways. “For blessing us with food that fills us, for blessing us with homes to rest our weary bodies, for blessing us with family and friends, for blessing us with a bountiful world, we give thanks.” Hildebrand opened her hands to close the prayer, she opened her hands to let go of worldly possessions. “May we open our hands to do your works. May grace prevail.”

As the family gave thanks to Hildebrand for her prayer, a weary quiet took hold of her. A guilt that rested heavily on her.