55. Fifty-Five - An Unhappy Mother
Fifty-Five - An Unhappy Mother
Ana
Picking through the crimson moss Penny brought me, I watch Mister Scoggins gulp down his potion and a whole pitcher of water as well.
“What result are you hoping for?” I ask, even though he’s never told me before and I doubt he ever will.
“That is for me and the peppers to know, dear.”
“If you tell me, I might be able to find out what it is, so you can stop playing these guessing games.”
He smiles at me and dabs at his mouth with his kerchief. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I watch him leave, shaking my head. He eats them with something else... and I have a feeling that is the real thing he doesn’t want me to know. Because I might make potions aplenty, but there are certain ingredients that I won’t go near.
Like broomrot or matchthistle…
I touch the night fairy in my pocket, beside Dorrian’s hand, and clench my teeth, hating that person I’ll never meet.
The moss cleans easily enough, and my door doesn’t jangle again until I’ve started to soak the clumps in a bowl of cold valerian tea.
Soaked and dried and turned into a powder, it will help put anyone to sleep... and the dreams it induces are supposed to be prophetic. My grandmother told me it just clears away the dross and lets people remember clues and patterns.
“Hello,” I call out to the person who’s just come in, stripping off my stained gloves and tossing them into the fireplace. I’ll burn them later tonight.
“Oh,”I smile at my mother. “I thought you were a customer. How has your day been?”
“Awful.” She says with a harrumph and pushes out a pout at me. “You left before we could have breakfast this morning.”
Technically, I never came home. But I don’t tell her that.
“I’ve had a lot of work to do and it’s easier to get it done before people start coming in to buy their potions.”
She scowls at me and I almost expect her to say that’s no excuse.
“Why do I have to hear that you’re going to be building out the attics from someone else?”
I should have told her before someone else could. I should have crafted a lie to keep her happy... or at the very least quiet.
“Sorry, I wasn’t fully settled on the idea until I spoke to Peter. I only decided to go through with it in earnest a little while ago.”
“When did you stop consulting me on things?” She looks hurt, truly, and a pang of guilt sparks in my chest. “I consult you on everything.”
That is a lie, but I don’t contradict her.
“What are you turning it into, anyway?”
“Just a space for some furniture and to relax.”
“Drina said it was going to be a bedroom.”
“Drina?” How would the butcher’s wife know about my plans already? “What is she doing talking about my plans?”
“So it’s true?” She makes a horrible croaking sound. “You’re leaving me?”
“Nothing has even been started, mother.”
“If you need more space, you can have Mina’s room.”
My whole body goes still, but she doesn’t notice, she barrels on. “I’ve been speaking to others in the village, there are a few who will take her, despite her disadvantages. Carlotta might, she asked too many questions when I suggested Mina could work their fields for them.
“Mina doesn’t know the first thing about farming.”
“Yes, well, she’s been idle long enough, and she can learn.”
There’s a numbness that tingles on my fingertips and starts to creep up my hands.
“She doesn’t want to be a farmer.”
“Fine then, the weavers will take her, or the acolytes.”
“She doesn’t want to be either of those things.”
“Well, she has to find something to do. Children grow up. They leave home. It’s the way things are done.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve decided to build myself a room here.”
Her face goes blank, her eyes widen and she seems to retrace her words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then by all means, tell me what you meant.”
She stammers and then lets out a long sigh. “I haven’t been able to talk to you since that elf arrived.”
“Mother.” I scold her, because this has nothing to do with Penny or Viggo. “Mina is a child. She’s your child. How can you talk about her like that?”
“I didn’t want her.”
She says it so calmly, and those prickles take over my chest.
“I didn’t want any of them. Just you, but he had to come back and—” she clamps her mouth shut and then she takes a deep breath. “I am trying to protect you from that.”
“From what?”
“From children you don’t want. From a life with a man who will win every argument unless you take him to bed.”
There’s a hatred in those words, I didn’t expect.
My skin feels like it’s going to vibrate off my body. “Leave.”
My mother takes a step back, tensed up like she thinks I’m going to hit her. “What?”
“I don’t know what you expected me to say to all of that, but I don’t want to hear any more of it.”
She never tried to hide that she married my father for his money. I’ve never blamed her for that. But memories of how she was with him... her smiles, the sweetness... He gave her everything. My sisters tried so hard for so long...
And she’s still standing in front of me.
My legs feel weak as I walk around the corner and go to the door, holding it wide for her.
She goes, stiltedly, looking vaguely ashamed. “We’ll talk about this later.”
I don’t know if we will. Later, she may deny she ever said it at all.
Closing the door behind her, I lock it and place my hand on my stomach, trying to breathe.
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it.
I don’t want to be here.
Flipping the sign on the window I lock the door and I drop to my knees behind the counter. There are only a few doors in my shop that don’t have windows.
I use Dorrian’s hand to open the cupboard and the room on the other side proves that size doesn’t matter.
It feels silly to crawl through, having to pull my skirts through the too small opening. And when I close it again, sitting on the carpet in Viggo’s bedroom, some of that tingling tension goes away.
I can breathe easier when I slip my dress free and release my corset.
Crawling into bed with him, I snuggle close.
He doesn’t ask me why I’m here, he just holds me and I hold him tighter.