Chapter 37 Kit
Kit
Leaving Penny at home the next morning was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
We slept late, both dozy and pleasantly spent after our roll in the proverbial hay, and breakfast had been a drawn-out affair.
It mostly consisted of Penny sitting in my lap and doing his best to distract me from the mound of scrambled eggs on my plate.
It was only my admission of lingering soreness that put a stop to his attempt at a repeat performance right there on the kitchen table.
He left me to my food, then, and when I managed to drag myself away to pull on my boots and my cloak, I backed out the door so that his blissful smile was the last thing I saw before I headed for the forge.
A frigid wind strafed the bowl of the corrie, whipping up the snow and shrieking through the narrow alleys and quiet lanes.
It set my teeth to chattering before I even made it off the front step.
I was glad to have the excuse of Penny still needing time to recover from the hemlock to keep him in where it was warm.
I’d instructed him to spend the day resting, but I knew better.
He’d get bored of being still long before I got home.
There was no one shopping in the market when I arrived.
Many of the vendors’ stalls were shuttered and heaped with fresh snow, leaving the meat merchant, the candlemaker, Rosie’s mother, and me as the only people brave—or foolish—enough to have left home to work in such weather.
Briefly, an old man scurried from the tavern to the bakery stand, where Rosie’s mother was bundled so snugly in furs that I almost didn’t recognize her.
He purchased a pastry, then scuttled out of the square.
I’d have given anything to turn right back and head home myself.
Unfortunately, I had orders to finish.
It took some effort to get the coals lit and keep them from flaring up too much with the wind, but before long, the shop was warm enough for me to shed my cloak and pull on my apron and gloves.
I didn’t have the desire or the energy to work on anything strenuous, so I set to work crafting iron nails for the farrier. It was a job I could do practically with my eyes closed, and I didn’t have to feel guilty when my mind inevitably wandered.
So much had happened in such a short window of time.
I almost lost Penny, almost lost my own life, but somehow, we both pulled through.
We did lose Reimond, which hurt more than I expected it to.
Tessa was gone, too. That didn’t hurt at all, just left me feeling guilty for being almost relieved.
Levitt remained on my side even in the wake of what I expected him to see as an unforgivable betrayal.
And the night before, I gave every part of me to a man I loved more than I could ever put into words.
I was his completely, in heart and body.
My suitor. It felt like a dream, like a life I never thought I could have.
If I was more creative, I might have worried I imagined it, but the burn in my muscles was proof enough that it had been real.
I could still recall Penny’s touch, hot and insistent and everywhere, drawing sounds out of me that no else ever had.
My breath hitched at the vivid memories, and I wondered how early I could leave the forge without arousing suspicions.
I wanted to feel it all again, to be as close as two men could get, to have the intimacy I’d been craving for weeks…
A different kind of heat singed the hair of my right forearm as I brought a red-hot piece of iron out of the coals and, in my distraction, swung it too close. Out of reflex, I dropped the tongs and jumped back as the would-be nail hit the frozen dirt floor with a hiss.
A quick check of my arm reassured me that no real damage was done. Though, clearly, even making nails wasn’t safe if I let myself get carried away again. I’d managed to complete almost a dozen of them, but a cursory inspection proved that they would need additional work to be usable.
That job could wait for a different day.
I clearly needed something more complicated, something that would hold my attention even with everything rattling around in my mind.
I selected an old, cracked shovel head from the rack.
Patching and honing it would require more focus, and it would be a quick enough fix that I could at least feel like I’d accomplished something before I abandoned my post to return home.
As I heated and hammered and knit in new iron, my thoughts turned to other things.
To the confessions I’d laid at Penny’s feet the night before, and the burden it had taken off of me to finally give those dark things voice.
Where I had expected condemnation, I found only empathy.
Soft words and an embrace I could have lost myself in.
My hammer clanged on bare anvil and jarred me once more back to the present. The shovel head was no longer cracked, but I’d hammered all the curve out of it and rendered it no better than scrap with my wandering focus.
I blew out a long breath and set aside my hammer and tongs. Apparently, it was time to go home, even if it was barely lunch time. I was useless at best in this condition, and a danger to myself at worst. The last thing I needed to do was destroy anything else or waste more materials.
So, I raked out the coals, shed my apron and gloves, and wound my cloak back around my shoulders. I was impatient to get home and curl up with Penny in front of the fire for the rest of the day, basking in the closeness I could never get enough of.
I was partway through the square when someone called my name and drew me up short. I turned to see Rosie’s mother waving me over.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she said, her voice muffled by the wool scarf that nearly swallowed the lower half of her face. Her blue eyes sparkled over windburned cheeks. “Rosie wasn’t up to coming out today, but she did want me to let you know that the kittens are ready to come home.”
I pulled my hood lower over my face, though it did little to cut the wind that seemed to slice through every layer of clothing I was wearing.
“Thank you,” I said, eager to get moving again to warm my rapidly numbing legs. “I’ll stop by on my way.”
She waved me off, and I hurried down the lane toward the Saunders’ home.
This was yet another thing Penny changed for me.
After Clover, I’d vowed never to love another animal.
They were too easily broken, too easily snuffed out, and my care for them was a weakness.
Now, I was jittery with excitement to surprise Penny with these tiny, precious things that we could care for together.
Because he didn’t believe it was weak to love fragile things, but brave.
I bounded up onto the Saunders’ front step and rapped my knuckles against the door, leaving them stinging. A moment later, the door opened, and Rosie’s father motioned me inside.
“Quickly, quickly,” he said as I squeezed past him into the fire-lit living area. “Too cold to linger.” He pushed the door shut and swung around, offering his hand. “Gerald Saunders. I’m not sure we’ve properly met yet.”
I pushed my hood back off my head, then took his offered hand. He pumped my arm in an enthusiastic shake.
“Kit Koesters,” I said. “Good to officially meet you, sir.”
He waved off the title. “Call me Gerald, please. I feel like I have you at a bit of a disadvantage, given how much time Penny spends here and how often he talks about you.”
Blush burned my cheeks all the way up to my ears.
I hoped Gerald assumed it was a flush from the cold and not sheepish embarrassment.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Rosie had told me the same thing when I spoke with her before the third Oath, and Penny often mentioned her parents being around while they baked.
I just hoped he was discreet with them in his feelings for me.
“He’s certainly good at talking,” I said, earning a grin from the older man. “Not that I mind. The house would be quiet without him in it.”
Gerald hummed, and his face sobered as he glanced down the hall to what I assumed were the bedrooms. “I know what you mean.”
I followed his gaze.
“How is Rosie?”
“Recovering,” he said, and gestured for me to sit on the couch as he settled into an old armchair across from it. “She took Tessa’s death hard. Blamed herself. She hasn’t been up to visitors, or I’d have you send Penny around.” His lips pursed as if he were biting back what he really wanted to say.
“The third Oath is always the worst,” I said, though that was putting it mildly. It was barbaric, and cruel, and a pointless waste of life. But those were dangerous sentiments better kept to myself.
Gerald sucked a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Yes, well, you didn’t come here to talk about all this.” His smile was forced, but it relaxed when I offered one of my own.
“I don’t mind if you need to get it off your chest. Penny's good at talking, but I'm better suited to listening.”
He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I know you have better things to do than listen to me. Rosie said to expect you soon to take a couple of the kittens home, so I assume that’s why you’re here.”
The kittens had been conspicuously absent since my arrival. I’d expected them to be tearing around the place like they were at my last visit, but there wasn’t a single one in sight.
“Yes, sir.”
He shot me a weary look, and I chuckled.
“Sorry. Habit.”
“I’ll allow it this once.” He pushed to his feet. “Rosie’s had the lot of them holed up in her room. Said she wanted to spend as much time with them as she could before they went off to their new families.”
“She’s always welcome to come see ours,” I said. “Any time. Penny and I would be happy to have her by.”
His smile was sad as he turned away. “I’ll be sure she knows that.”