Chapter 29
Penny
Spring arrived at last and brought with it the greatest swell of joy I’d felt in months.
Packing our bag, leaving the cottage and kittens in Thoma’s care, and turning our backs on Ashpoint all came and went in a blur.
If I hadn’t been sitting on the cart’s driver bench as it rattled down the road, I would have been running, jumping, and hurrying home, home, home.
But I sat, and Kit guided the horse that plodded along entirely too slowly for my liking. The mare’s steps were so deliberate that I leaped down onto the dirt path once or twice and walked alongside to goad her on.
Kit chuckled at my antics, which only served as encouragement. But it was his smile that lured me back into the wagon, so I could sidle up to him and kiss the happiness off his lips.
He’d been in good spirits since our engagement, persisting despite Violette’s scandalous report and the concerning comments made by our neighbors at the resistance meeting. Truly, he was unflappable, and the nearer we drew to Eastcliff, I couldn’t help but feel equally at ease.
I was standing when the farmhouse came into view.
My eyes had been trained on the horizon for half an hour at least, sensing we were close.
Then, it was there with its sloping thatched roof and the chimney funneling a stream of smoke into the sky, and I was on my feet again, but in the grass.
I sprinted ahead while Kit laughed and called after me, claiming he and that old nag would beat me yet.
My heart thundered and my face burned from wind chap by the time I skidded to a stop at the front edge of our plot.
The air was a bit crisp still, and it stung my lungs, stirring up the tickle that had taken up permanent residence there.
Doubling over, I smothered a fit of coughs in the crook of my elbow and was just beginning to recover when the cart pulled up behind me.
Kit bounded off the bench to come alongside and rub his hand on my back until I straightened.
“You all right?” he asked.
I nodded, and Kit bobbed his head before placing a kiss on my temple.
Returning to the cart, Kit unloaded our bag, then took the horse to the hitching post. I waited while he secured the reins, then returned to me so we could finish our approach in stride.
Just before the front door, my hand shot out and clasped his. I glanced over, waiting for I wasn’t sure what until Kit gestured to the entry.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Despite this being my home, it seemed best to knock. With Mother and Sayla here alone, I didn’t want to startle them by barging in unannounced. So, I rapped my knuckles against the gnarled wood slab and waited, tapping my toes the entire time.
The door had barely cracked before my smile spread from ear to ear. I leaned to get a glimpse of who was answering, and let out a whoop when I saw my sister peeking past the frame.
“Penny?” she gasped, then flung the door wide. Her grin must have been as big as mine as she darted forward and crashed into me, taking us both to the ground and pulling my hand from Kit’s.
Teary laughter overcame me, and I didn’t even mind laying in the dirt while Sayla squeezed her arms around my ribs so tight they ached.
“Penny, you’d no right!” she sputtered, sounding angry and excited all at once. With a final, crushing hug, she sat up, still pinning me, then slapped my arm. “Where in the gods’ names have you been?”
A frown creased my brow as I looked up at her. Had she changed in the time away? It felt like an eternity had passed, but she seemed the same, and I breathed easier for that.
“You knew,” I began, but was stopped by her scowl. We’d made the plan together, after all. It was her idea to send me to Forstford. To meet Kit. To retrieve Father’s body…
For all I’d been looking forward to telling her, that failing was the one thing I would have liked to put aside. But she would ask, and I would have to explain. About that and so much else.
Swallowing, I tried again in a smaller voice, “I sent letters…”
She crossed her arms, burn scars mottled red on her pale skin. “It’s been months,” she retorted.
“I sent some not a month ago! And… I was with Kit,” I said, hoping it would be some consolation.
Sayla’s mouth twisted, fighting the return of a mischievous smile. “I see that.”
Finally, she stood, dusting the dirt off her skirt before she turned to where Kit remained beside the open doorway. “Welcome back, Mister Mosel,” she said.
Kit offered his hand to shake, but Sayla batted it away.
“Nonsense. If you’ve been looking after my brother for half a year and you’re already courting, I’d say that makes us better than friends.”
She embraced him, and the sight warmed me through. I got to my feet and was sweeping the dust off my backside when I heard my mother’s voice.
“Penwell! Praise the gods, you’ve returned.”
Kit and Sayla broke apart to clear her path out of the house. Before she reached me, I could already see that her eyes were shining with tears. We collided in a desperate hug, and her palms pressed into my back while her body shook with sobs.
Unlike my sister, my mother had changed.
She’d seemed grayer after my father’s death, and now she was even more so.
Haggard, almost, with a bit of a hunch in her shoulders that felt premature for her years.
I couldn’t shake the thought that it wasn’t time at all that weighed her down, but the emotional burdens of worry, fear, and loss.
I squeezed my arms around her and laid my head on top of hers, heedless of Kit and Sayla looking on. It was several seconds before Mother’s grip loosened, and she sniffled into my shirt before stepping backward.
“Look at you,” she said through a watery smile. “Taller, I’d swear it.” Her fingers tugged at the untucked hem of my shirt, then moved to feather the ends of my hair. “And this is in need of a trim.”
I craned my head out of her reach, then gave it a shake. “I’ve been growing it out,” I replied.
“Why?”
Hesitating, I glanced past her at Kit and felt what was bound to be the first of many bouts of blush creeping across my cheeks. “I think Kit likes it long,” I murmured.
Mother frowned in confusion as I caught her elbow and spun her toward Kit and Sayla. Seeing him here, with us, felt so right. It felt complete. All my love was in one place, and I felt so full I could have burst.
“Mother, you remember Kit?” I opened my hand toward him, then waved to beckon him closer.
He closed the gap and offered another shake, which my mother accepted with a bit of hesitation. Maybe she could sense my nerves, or perhaps the return of my jaw-aching grin caused her to question until I explained.
“You met him last as my blacksmithing instructor. Now, you can meet him as my intended.”
Mother gasped, then pressed her palms to her mouth, stifling her reply while Sayla spouted off.
“Intended?” Her gaze flicked to my cord-tied wrist as I held it out, then dropped it to take Kit’s hand and pull him to me.
Nodding made my hair swish across my jaw, and I realized how right my mother was about its length. It seemed I’d changed a bit, too, during our time apart.
Sayla gaped while glancing back and forth between Kit and me. After a quiet moment, she snickered. “Oh, Pen, you’ve done quite well for yourself.”
I laughed back and worked my fingers in between Kit’s. “Haven’t I?”
My mirth was short-lived, due in large part to the worried shadows creeping across my mother's face. The last time Kit had been here, she'd been enthralled with his skills and assistance to restore order to our failing farm. Now, she looked at him like he was an unwelcome invader.
“It’s a bit soon, isn’t it?” Her words were for me, an unsubtle plea to my better senses. “You’ve known each other… six months now? And we don’t…” She fixed Kit with a skeptical squint. “I don’t know you at all.”
I tipped to the side, interrupting her line of sight and flashing my most winsome grin.
“Oh, but you will!” I exclaimed. “He’s coming to live with us. Soon. He’ll be here all the time, and you’ll know him perfectly well, Mother.”
She looked no less concerned and no more convinced, so I relinquished my grip on Kit and clasped her hands instead, holding them between us while I continued to beam.
“You’ll love him,” I assured her, then added, “I love him.”
Pink tinted her cheeks as she tried to peer around me at where Kit hovered quietly.
She yielded at last with a sigh. “Yes. Well… Congratulations.”
I bent in to kiss her cheek and earned a smile far more genuine than her well wishes.
I kept close, holding her hands and smiling as though she would somehow absorb my joy when Kit piped up.
“I’ll admit you’re right,” he said, coming into our circle where I could no longer shield him.
His hand on the small of my back felt bold, perhaps even proud, and I warmed to his touch.
“It hasn’t been long,” he continued, “but this wasn’t a decision made on a whim. I care very deeply for your son, Missus Oliver.”
With the two of us towering over her, my mother may have shrank, but she held her own, standing with her chin tipped and her wary eyes locked on Kit's.
“You asked him, then?” She tilted her head toward me.
“I did.” Kit nodded, definitely proud.
Mother hummed a skeptical sound. “Come inside and we’ll catch up. Get acquainted.”
I released her and let her lead us into the farmhouse with Sayla bringing up the rear. Once the others settled at the dining table, I raided our cabinets for a kettle to brew coffee, and the real conversation began.
Apparently, my mother’s version of getting acquainted with Kit was interrogating him with such detail and intensity it put the Bone Men’s Tribunal to shame.
“How old are you, Mister Mosel?”
Kit sat straight backed in the chair, composed as if he'd been accused of yet another crime. “I’m thirty, ma’am. And just Kit is fine.”
Mother nodded, sitting with her hands clasped on the tabletop and in stark contrast to Sayla who sat kicked back with a bemused smirk twisting her lips.