Chapter 5
The days passed. The taxes were paid. Papa’s strength returned. But Serena felt no peace. She baked, weeded, hunted—yet all the work only deepened the ache inside her.
But Serena felt a longing deep within she could not explain. As though something was missing. As though her soul was empty.
Her father was back to working a few hours a day in the garden wearing his oversized straw hat with the wide brim to keep the winter sun off his head and out of his eyes.
Her sister was back to whining about sweeping the floors, doing the washing, and mending the clothes.
While Serena worked long hours to make sure they remained unnoticed by the crown.
The villagers were abuzz about her father’s miraculous recovery. When she was in town, Serena heard the whispers. Felt the curious sideways glances. One nosey woman hinted it was unnatural. Some credited the local doctor. Others claimed it was good luck, or perhaps a blessing.
The same luck or blessing that came with the gold Serena managed to get for the Hornraven’s taxes and their own.
She knew, of course, the truth of it, but could say nothing about it. She could not tell them she made a bargain with the stranger at the Well of Wishes. A bargain that cost her… Well, she couldn’t recall what it cost her. Something of herself? A memory, perhaps?
One bright morning, as Serena was kneading bread, a knock sounded on their door. Maris was busy sweeping their tiny living room while Papa was out back chopping firewood.
“Get that, Maris, will you?” She puffed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes as the knock sounded again.
Maris huffed. She dropped the broom and stomped to the front door. Though why she was annoyed about that was beyond her.
“Oh, hello, Dr. Graves,” Maris greeted.
Serena froze, her heart clawing its way to her throat. Gods, the doctor must have heard about the miraculous recovery of their father and was coming to see how it was done. She pulled her hands out of the dough and reached for a kitchen towel, quickly wiping them.
“Hello, Maris. I came to see about your father.”
Serena bustled toward the front door as the doctor pulled off his hat.
“He’s doing fine, doctor,” she said before her sister could chime in. “He’s much recovered.” She forced a smile that hurt her cheeks.
The doctor’s eyes flickered to her, glinting with curiosity. “Yes, I’ve heard. Strange rumors in town, too, about that.”
She nudged her sister out of the way, who huffed. “Oh?” she asked, trying to sound as innocent and curious as possible. “What sort of rumors?”
He cleared his throat, his face contorting in discomfort. “That, ah, it was a miracle.”
Papa shuffled up to the door carrying an armload of firewood. The doctor heard him walk up and turned to greet him.
“Windriver,” the doctor said with a nod. “You’re looking well. Quite well, actually.”
“John Graves! Haven’t seen you about in ages.”
A wide grin split her father’s face as he headed past the doctor and into the house. He went to the hearth to drop the firewood. Maris had retreated to somewhere behind her. Hopefully out of earshot. Papa brushed the dirt from his hands and turned to face the doctor.
“What brings you out here?” he asked.
An innocent question enough but Serena stiffened.
“You, actually,” he said, looking him over. He stepped inside the house, still clutching the brim of his hat between his tense fingers. “The last time I saw you, you were at death’s door.”
Papa laughed a deep hearty laugh. “Well, I suppose that’s true. But your medicine did the trick.”
“My…ah…medicine?” he asked.
“The elixir,” Maris supplied helpfully, chirping from somewhere behind her.
Serena cringed. Confusion creased the doctor’s face when he turned his gaze from Papa to her. As though she might have the answer. She continued to smile.
“What elixir?” the doctor asked.
“Why, the one you sent with Serena,” Papa said. “Worked like a charm.”
He looked so happy, so proud as he glanced at her but his gaze settled on Maris. Serena bit her lip to keep from saying anything.
“I don’t recall giving Serena an elixir,” the doctor said, eyeing her from his position near the door.
“Dr. Graves, I heard Mr. Brightwood took a fall the other day and twisted his ankle,” Serena said, trying desperately to change the subject. “How is he doing?”
Graves was a bit taken aback. “I intended to look in on him after seeing about your father.”
Serena muscled her way between Papa and the doctor, twisting the kitchen towel tight in her hands. She nudged him toward the open door. “Well, as you can see, he’s quite healthy. Not only is he strong enough to chop firewood, but he’s also been helping in the garden.”
“The weeding,” Papa said in agreement.
“And…you’re all right, then?” The doctor looked back at her father.
“Quite so, though I admit the back is a bit stiff from all the work.” He chuckled, as though he was glad to have the work instead of lying in bed all day.
Serena plastered in a bright smile and waved him toward the door. “There you have it, doctor! Thank you for coming by to check on him. We appreciate it.”
He stepped out, his face a map of confusion. Serena braced a hand on the door, ready to push it closed.
“Please tell Mr. Brightwood we hope he’s better,” she said, her voice a little too high, a little too cheerful.
Dr. Graves nodded. “Good day to you then.”
The doctor lingered a heartbeat too long, his gaze flicking from Serena’s too-bright smile to Papa’s ruddy cheeks.
“Strange,” he muttered, mostly to himself before he tugged on his hat and walked away.
Serena blew out a breath of relief and closed the door. When she turned around, both Papa and Maris stared at her. Papa with a look of disdain. Maris with shock.
“That was rude,” Maris said. “You hustled him out of here like he was a common thief.”
Serena huffed out a forced laugh. “I did not.”
Gripping the kitchen towel, she headed back to the kitchen.
“You did. I’ll not have you treating the village folk like that, Serena,” Papa said, his tone edged with disdain. “They mean well enough.” Then to Maris, “Don’t they, little dove?”
Her back stiffened as she glared down at the mound of half-kneaded dough. Neither of them had any idea what she went through to get that elixir. Climbing the mountain in the cold. Returning with it and losing…
…what? What did she bargain away?
She couldn’t recall.
All she knew was Papa was disappointed with her and continued to favor Maris. Neither of them appreciated her.
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
Without turning, she placed aside the towel and started back to work to finish the bread.
“See that it doesn’t happen again.”
He opened the door and stepped back out into the chill of the morning. She sensed her sister lingering behind her.
“You didn’t get that elixir from the doctor, did you?” Maris asked, a note of accusation tinging her voice.
“I have work to do and so do you,” was her only answer.
“But—”
“Back to work,” she said, flashing a cold look over her shoulder. “The floors aren’t going to sweep themselves.”
Maris frowned, clearly hurt by her words which she instantly regretted. But she didn’t want to answer any more questions about the elixir or Papa’s illness.
Serena drove her fists into the pliant dough, the sticky air of yeast clinging to her skin. Was it a mistake to climb the mountain? To take the elixir? To trade away…
What?
The thought unraveled like a spool of thread, slipping through her fingers, leaving her hollow.
She straightened, jaw tight. No. It had been the right choice. Her family’s survival demanded it. Let the whispers come. Let the doctor pry. She would endure it all.
Even if she had to go back to the Well.