8. Penny #2
Swallowing hard, I dipped my head in a nod. “That’s the plan.”
“Good.” Sayla fluffed her apron. “And Mother will never know.”
Guilt twinged anew. I didn’t like the idea of keeping things from my mother.
She was an honest woman, and raised me to be the same, but her fears about Eeus’s curse were deeply rooted.
If she knew Father’s body had been ferried away—if she knew what I was risking to retrieve it—she might worry herself into her own grave.
“What about Merrick?” I asked quietly. “Does he know?”
“He hasn’t been back,” she replied. “We received a letter last week saying his rotation has been extended.”
I tried not to show how relieved I was.
“But now you’ve returned…” Sayla finished working the bread dough and left it to rest. She dusted the flour from her hands on her apron as she turned toward me. “You’ll be staying a few days, I hope?”
I shook my head. “Just tonight. ”
Sayla’s face scrunched. “That’s all? Pity, I was hoping to get more than a passing glance at Mister Mosel . It’s quite novel to have a man like that parading around our home.”
Again with the teasing way of saying Kit’s name. I was glad Mother was keeping him busy and, hopefully, out of earshot.
Much of my time on the road with Kit had been spent crafting a series of believable lies.
They began with what I was to tell the Bone Men upon my arrival: I was Kit’s recruit and his reason for returning to the cult after abandoning their ranks thirteen years earlier.
I believed in Eeus and his place as the god of balance.
I had a family farm that could provide resources for the cult, though the thought of strangers running rampant over the fields, or carting away our meager harvest in wagons made me ill.
“Well, you’ll be home again soon.” Sayla pushed the rolling pin across the spreading lump of dough. “It can’t take too long, can it?”
“Kit says I’ll be back in time for spring planting.”
Sayla spun to face me. “Pen, that’s months away!”
“I know.”
“You expect me to keep this secret that long? What am I to tell Mother?”
She sounded exasperated, and I did what I could to soothe her.
“Kit really is a blacksmith,” I said. “Just tell her he’s… the traveling kind. I’ll be learning all kinds of things in all kinds of places.”
Mother emerged from the hallway, ushering Kit into the adjoining living room.
From the pink on his cheeks and the discomfort in his coffee-brown eyes, he was no more assured this detour was a good idea than he had been when I first proposed it.
I had a feeling he would restate his concerns when we got a moment alone, assuming my mother and sister didn’t do irreversible damage before then.
When Kit’s gaze landed on me, I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
It was at that moment my sister chose to pass closely by me and whisper, “He’s quite handsome, Pen. And you would make a beautiful bride.”
I sucked a breath so hard I choked, starting a coughing fit I barely shook before flinging off my apron and rushing over to Kit. “If you’re going to have a tour, there’s much more to see that isn’t in this tiny house,” I told him. “It would be impolite not to show you everything .”
I took hold of Kit’s elbow to steer him toward the back door, a touch he immediately shook off. My face was already burning, and that made it worse. I spun away from Mother and Sayla’s prying eyes, and the scathing look I sensed from Kit.
Mother started after us. “Oh, Pen, let me come with you. There are a few tools in the barn I’d like to have Mister Mosel take a look at?—”
“Later, Mother.” I struggled through another smile as Kit and I made rapid progress toward the nearest exit.
“Don’t be gone too long!” Sayla called after us. “Dinner’s in an hour!”
I waved without turning, then hurried out of the cottage.
Once outside with the door pulled shut, I expelled a breath. Kit stood a few feet ahead with his arms crossed and brow furrowed as he searched the gloomy gray sky.
The fields sprawled out before us, stripped bare at the end of the season—the first harvest we’d brought in without Father’s help. He’d observed from what shortly after became his deathbed, like he’d lingered just long enough to see the job done .
Merrick and I had managed, though working beside my older brother had been a challenge.
Since Merrick joined the militia, Father and I handled everything.
The farm was sizable, and the work kept us busy, especially after Father fell ill.
As grateful as I’d been for Merrick’s able hands, it had been a rude shock to be saddled with my overbearing brother without Father between us as a buffer.
With Father’s health failing, I’d been forced to make concessions and let a few things go.
Substandard, Merrick said. He made it his first and continued priority to remind me I would soon be the man of the house and needed to fill that role so Mother wouldn’t worry.
The burdens of the farm, the harvest, the livestock, and Mother and Sayla’s wellbeing became crushing.
I felt the weight as I gazed across the acres of land I was responsible for and tried not to think of the two women inside relying on me just as heavily.
The idea of Eeus’s curse sprung to mind. Bringing my father’s body back from the Bone Men wouldn’t make me any more fit to thrive here. Failure of one kind or another seemed a forgone conclusion.
Drawing a steadying breath, I looked at Kit standing by.
“Your sister seems to have some particular ideas about the nature of our relationship,” he said, his face turned toward the sky.
Cringing, I stepped up to stand beside him. “You mean in presuming we have one? I’m very aware we do not.” My huffed laugh managed to dispel some of my embarrassment. “Don’t worry, I clarified things for her. Though she’s not inclined to believe I’ll amount to any kind of blacksmith.”
Kit’s lips curved in a wry smile at my expense. “She’s not wrong about that, at least. ”
The low, hazy clouds spoke of impending rain. After spending one stormy night on Kit’s porch, I’d endured two more on the road, left soggy and shivering like a drowned rat. It didn’t bode well for traveling conditions on the next leg of our journey.
After several seconds, Kit cleared his throat. “So, I’ve met your mother and sister. When can I expect to meet the infamous Merrick?”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Pity.” Kit’s tone implied he didn’t think it was a pity at all.
“Merrick’s away more often than not,” I explained. “He ranks highly in the militia. He’s very?—”
“Driven?” Kit pinned me with an exasperated look.
The conversation sounded familiar. I’d talked a fair amount on the journey here. Especially while walking when I didn’t have my sketchbook to occupy my hands and mind. I couldn’t recall all the topics I’d covered, but I didn’t doubt that my brother had been among them.
“Said that before, have I?” I asked.
Kit nodded. “Once or twice.” He stepped out toward the farmlands, on the path that wound past the weathered old barn and the fenced pasture where our sheep and cattle grazed. “What was it you wanted to show me?” he asked. “Or show me first , since apparently I must see everything .”
I studied his face as a passing breeze ruffled his dark, wavy locks. Was he teasing? Between that and the fleeting smiles, this was the most pleasant mood I’d seen from him yet.
“I thought you might like a few moments alone, actually.” I caught up to him, and we walked in stride down the packed dirt road. “You won’t get that in the house, but the barn is a safe bet. ”
Kit tracked my gesture to the two-story building ahead. The wood had washed out to gray over the years, and the door stood open, allowing a glimpse of baled hay piled inside.
“Is that where you’re going?” Kit asked.
“I thought I’d walk out to where Father was buried.”
“I’ll join you.” Kit didn’t hesitate, but I did. In fact, I nearly tripped over my own feet.
“You don’t need to,” I told him. “There’s nothing to see but a hole in the ground.”
He nodded, and his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “Ah, but if I linger in the barn, your mother will come asking my opinion on the state of your plow blades.”
I thought back to the last time I stored the plow, and how Father commented on its failing condition.
“They are a bit dull,” I admitted, “and rusty.”
Kit glanced over at me. “Have they not been cleaned? Or oiled?”
My features pinched in a frown. “I may have forgotten… more than once.”
Kit’s grunt of acknowledgment lacked the scorn I’d grown to expect.
The truth was, I forgot a lot of things. That trait got me sent away from the fields and back to the house with Mother and Sayla. Picking up after me made extra work for Father and Merrick and cost the family more money than my help was worth.
I was no great asset here, especially not over the coming winter months when the ground was too hard for planting and the air too cold for growing. I could do more good— some good, at least—by going. Though, if I failed again, I may not have it in me to return at all.