20. Penny #2
He grunted acknowledgement, perusing the baked goods on display but managing not to focus on any of them. Rosie stood by, waiting with me for Kit’s response. When he gave nothing more, she turned to me instead. The confusion that pinched her face eased into a smile.
“How have you been, Penny?” She tucked a braid behind her ear. “Are you settling in well?”
“Well enough,” I replied. “Kit is a gracious host.”
I glanced over and found him turned aside so he could peer back across the square with a scowling sort of squint. I was about to ask him if something was wrong when Rosie chimed in again.
“What all have you seen? I’m about to close up shop for lunch and could take you around town, if you’d like.”
“Both of us?” I shifted closer to Kit.
My proximity drew his attention at last, but he waved me off. “No need,” he said to Rosie. “From what I’ve seen, things have changed very little since I was here last. ”
Frowning, I nodded along with Kit’s decision. “We should probably get home.”
I turned toward the path leading out of the square, but Kit caught my shoulder.
“No, Penny, you go on,” he urged. “I remembered I needed to check something in the Ossuary library. I’ll meet you at the house later.”
I quirked a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Quite. You can tell me about it tonight.”
Kit left without so much as a backward glance, walking purposefully toward the towering building in the center of town. I watched his form shrink until it was swallowed by the mill of people cluttering the square.
Rosie set about covering her booth with a sheet, humming to herself as she worked.
I remembered—or rather didn’t remember—Violette’s tour of the city, the one I’d spent glaring at her back while she fawned over Kit.
Despite his assurances that he did not enjoy her advances, I may have overstepped in my jealousy.
Still, I found it strange that a married woman would be so forward with another man.
The fact that she was my sister-in-law complicated things even further.
I wanted to feel bad for Merrick and wondered if he knew how she behaved in his absence, but given what I’d learned in recent days, and the things he’d said to me not an hour earlier, I reserved my sympathy.
“Shall we?” Rosie looped her arm through mine.
I often accompanied Sayla when we visited the market in Eastcliff.
Arm in arm or hand in hand, we laughed and talked as we passed the day.
I’d been with her when she met her suitor, Warren, and was amused to see her so taken with a man.
Judging by the frequency of Warren’s visits and the increasing quality of his gifts, he planned to propose soon.
Sayla would be thrilled, and I had no doubt she would accept, but the thought left me feeling hollow.
Warren was a silversmithing apprentice with no apparent interest in farming.
Sayla had kept me up many nights gushing about her beau’s plans to move to a bigger city, far from home, where he would give her a wonderful life.
There would be no more tending the chickens and keeping the garden, no more strolls through the fields or afternoon dips in the pond, no more cheery dinner conversations.
She would be gone, and I would be left with Mother, all but alone because my chances of finding a suitor of my own with dreams we could share, were slim.
Rosie pulled me this way and that, flitting between stalls and waving to vendors she knew. Every so often, she would pause and pat my hand to make sure I was paying attention.
“They founded this place twenty-four years ago,” she said. “It’s a safe haven. Perfectly made like it was scooped from the earth by Eeus’s hand. Our numbers grow every year. We thrive in community, after all.”
Kit had told me how things worked here on our way to Eastcliff. Most of the people in the settlement were laypeople. They ran businesses and worked jobs assigned as needs arose. They had the most freedom to come and go, though few ventured past the walls to do more than forage.
“Kit mentioned you get food and goods from members with lives on the outside. Are there people who live elsewhere and only visit here? Bringing supplies and communications?”
I cared more about the idea of sending a letter home. If I was trapped here, and for far longer than the few weeks I'd hoped, I owed my mother and sister some explanation.
Rosie nodded. “A few. And we have evangelists, as well, though they have to be discreet. It's a shame so many people don't understand our mission. It can be quite dangerous to be caught spreading our doctrine.”
She seemed sincere, like there was some innocuous or even admirable aspect to robbing graves in the name of a depraved god that wanted to bring suffering to the world.
Kit cautioned me that these people's faith ran deep, but I couldn't bring myself to assign the darkness of Eeus to Rosie's cheerful face.
We carried on through the town while my confused thoughts continued to race.
The way Rosie spoke of things, of the cult’s traditions and beliefs, was vastly different from Kit’s renditions.
His retellings were full of gloom and darkness, but it was clear Rosie loved this place and the people in it.
I’d met plenty of fine folks during my time in the market.
More good than bad, though I hesitated to share that with Kit.
He would surely deny it, or remind me that the kindest smiles often hid the sharpest teeth.
I wondered again about Merrick and how I hadn’t seen his vicious bite years ago. I’d certainly felt it. More today than ever before.
We passed the local tavern, then the blacksmith shop, which looked vacant and cold in the harsh light of day.
“Kit’s a blacksmith, you know,” I said.
My interruption caused Rosie to pause. She smiled over at me, and her plump cheeks puckered with dimples. “I didn’t.”
We stood in the shadow of the row of squat buildings, looking down the cobbled street until Rosie used her grip on my arm to tug me along to a wooden bench positioned against a shop front just down from the smithy.
Once we were sitting, I pulled free of her and folded my hands in my lap.
I wondered if she would mind if I sketched a bit.
The sunlight cutting across the square painted everything in stripes of warm and cold.
The gold tones would be impossible to render with my pencil alone, but the stark lines of shadows drew me in.
“How long have you known him?” Rosie asked, luring me from my thoughts.
“Who?” I asked, then remembered the conversation. “Kit?”
She nodded.
“A few weeks.”
Rosie rubbed her knee against mine. “I’m glad you have someone. My friend Tessa and I have been close for years. I’m so grateful she’s undergoing the Oaths alongside me.” She smiled, and her eyes seemed to dance. “You’ll have to meet her, and perhaps she can meet Kit.”
Her joy might have been contagious, but her words gave me pause.
I drew back, frowning. “Why should she meet Kit?”
Rosie giggled. “He’s unattached, I presume? And with such a handsome face, he’d be quite a catch.”
My mouth fell open, but no words came out. Clearly, I was not the only one enamored by a handsome stranger. But I had no claim to Kit, and he was unattached, so I held my tongue.
Rosie pulled a brown paper package from her apron pocket. She opened it to reveal a stack of pale, square cookies flecked with gray. She lifted the top one and handed to it me.
“What are these?” I asked.
“Lavender shortbread,” she replied. “They’re quite easy to make. I could teach you!”
I lifted the cookie to my nose and gave it a sniff. It smelled like a meadow. Nibbling the corner found it crisp and buttery and lightly floral, and I finished it in a few hungry bites .
Rosie laughed again. “You like it?”
I eagerly accepted the second cookie she offered. “Very much,” I told her.
Biting into it, I thought of home. I remembered the aroma of bread baking in the kitchen and the sweet perfume of the wildflowers that filled our pasture lands, and my momentary joy faded.
I'd missed my chance to go back there. Multiple chances, in fact. I had done exactly what Merrick said and left Mother and Sayla in their time of need. Now I was trapped, and they would be left to wonder when I might return. I’d told them I’d try to visit in a few weeks, but that was no longer a possibility.
“Thank you for showing me the town,” I told Rosie as I stood. “Do you mind if I take another of the shortbreads home for Kit?”
“Of course.” She fished one out and handed it to me. “Do you think you'd like to make some yourself sometime?”
I nodded because my voice was suddenly gone. That smothering feeling from the conversation with Merrick had returned, like fingers tightening around my throat.
“Maybe I could come fetch you when I close tomorrow and show you then,” she offered, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
“Sure,” I managed to croak.
With a wave, I left Rosie on the bench and hurried back to Kit's house. Hot tears burned my eyes as I stumbled up the walk and pushed through the front door.
Going straight to the kitchen, I set the cookie for Kit and my own half-eaten one on the counter beside the sink, then opened the cabinet where the whiskey bottle was stashed .
Emotions tangled in a hopeless knot, joined by a stream of thoughts I couldn't stop.
My brother had lied to me.
He tricked me into burying our father’s body so he could steal it.
He despised me.
He’d all but wished me dead.
What would happen if I did die?
Who would tell Mother and Sayla?
And would they miss me once they knew?
Would Kit?
I uncorked the whiskey and stared at it. The smell of it stung my nose, so I held my breath as I tipped the bottle to my lips.
I swallowed fast and hoped I wouldn't taste it. Hoped I wouldn't feel it. Or anything at all.