2. Zeth #2
There was a post ring at the walk, so I tied my reins and helped Millie do the same before pulling our belongings from the horses.
It wasn’t much, two blanket rolls and a carpet bag for us both.
I set those in front of Millie so I could remove the saddle and tack from my borrowed horse.
“We’ll find the livery stable later. For now, let’s take our belongings inside and assess the situation. ”
“Assess the sit—”
“Get your ass inside before it rains, eh? And let’s look at this dump,” I rephrased. “Better?”
“Much. There’s my brother.” Millie chuckled with sparkling approval as she tucked a blanket under each of her arms. Before I could help, she also squatted to pick up one bag in each hand, and then stood to her feet well balanced. “Alright, lead the way.”
A proper lady wouldn’t carry the bags, yet Millie seemed happy to help, and it saved me a trip, so I shrugged. That left me with only the saddle, so I hefted it onto my shoulder and stretched my stiff knees to lead us to the alley where a side door waited.
Thick ivy had taken over the laundry’s alley wall since we left, but I still found the family entrance easy enough.
It was just as dark and damp here as I recalled.
It even smelled like lye soap. Or maybe my imagination was playing tricks on me as I shifted the saddle to reach for the key in my jacket and jiggled it into the keyhole.
The door unlocked softly. When I tried to open it, though, the wood refused to move. I tried again and felt Millie watching me like I didn’t know how doors worked. After a third push with no success, I explained, “I think it warped from the dampness.”
“Well, that’s great,” Millie mumbled. She wedged herself in front of me to stand sideways against the door with all we owned in the world still tucked under her arms. She appeared quite determined as she glanced up to say, “On three.”
I gripped the cool handle and turned it. Ready, I called out, “One, two, three.”
Millie slammed her shoulder into the door while I pushed. The wood rattled. Her weight in addition to our belongings, and my clumsy effort, made the old door move with a scrape and squeal. Suddenly, the support was gone, and we both stumbled into the dim building.
The door banged against the wall, causing dust to puff around us. A blanket rolled into the cloudy room.
“Graceful,” I chuckled, straightening myself before dropping the saddle and trailing straps on the floor. I removed my cap and waved it to clear the air around us before hanging it on a peg by the door. Millie did the same with her stuff.
With her bonnet removed, Millie’s brown curls popped free, all this way and that like a dandelion.
Her current hairstyle was the longest I’d seen on her since she was a teen, with her curls falling to her cheeks.
I didn’t doubt she would cut the lovely ringlets soon, so I stole my chance to ruffle them now.
She slapped me away with a warning glare that made it clear she was no longer a child. I conceded with a doubtful look, then we both squinted into the low light.
The washroom was large and empty. The laundry lines were gone, and the brass basin sat dry. Everything looked…
“Smaller than I remember,” Millie finished for me. She walked forward and leaned over the stone well, proving how tall she stood now.
“Makes sense. You were only eleven when we moved.”
“And you, sixteen, but still a pipsqueak.”
“Gee, thanks,” I grumbled as I joined her in the old washroom. The back windows were filthy, and I was certain the walls were inching closer. I’d never possess the expenses to make this place like new again. “The quicker we—”
Just then, thunder rolled, and I turned back for the door to find it even darker outside. “I need to get the other saddle before it gets soaked.” Heading out, I warned, “Don’t fall in the well, ’cause I won’t save you.”
“As if I need saving.”
Her laughter followed me down the alley as I returned to the horses and undid the buckles on Millie’s saddle.
Seconds later, a drop of rain hit my cheek.
Then another. The fat drops sped up, and I cursed until the leather slipped free from the horse’s back.
Racing inside, I barely got a boot in before the storm hit with pelting rain.
A swift twist of my knee swung the door closed against the wind, and I had to lean back against the wood with a grunt of effort to shut it tight.
That door needed fixing, quick. Thankfully, repair projects didn’t scare me, even if I didn’t know a damn thing about fixing a door.
I set the tack next to our bags with a sigh and removed my gloves to brush off the rain from my jacket while wandering around the long counter to inspect the empty storefront.
It was dark, dusty, and dingy, with cobwebs in the corners.
The whole place needed a good cleaning. We were the first to enter since Uncle died four years ago.
When I returned to the washroom, Millie was gone. Maybe she fell into the well after all. Surely I would have heard. I walked over to the walled basin and glanced into the watery pit, calling into it, “Mils?”
“Up here,” she returned. From upstairs, and not in the well. Relief washed through me, followed by concern, because her reply struck me as overly sentimental.
A staircase ran along the side wall from the door, so I took it two steps at a time. Thunder rumbled through the wall, and I shivered at the top where Millie crouched in the open doorway. I instantly worried about her until I saw where she was staring, at the door jamb of our old living space.
The familiar notches and pencil marks she found had me aching in denial.
I didn’t want to see the proof we’d resided here.
I wasn’t the boy I used to be. I had left this all behind.
That didn’t stop Millie from standing slowly and touching a few marks as she rose, including one for our dad when he was a teen.
So many times I stood here staring at those signs that proved he once grew up in the laundry too.
He also left it behind, when I was only fucking five. Good riddance.
Millie stopped at a mark around the height of my chest in a neatly penciled script that spelled her name. She glanced at me with her eyebrows gathered in confusion.
“Do you remember?” I asked. “That was the day we moved.”
“I do… I just can’t believe I was so tall at eleven.” Her face softened while she moved her hand to trace her name at a lower spot. “You wrote these. You always took care of me, didn’t you?”
“I did.” And I always would, because she was like a daughter to me.
Mum stayed when Dad left, and she loved us.
She was illiterate and busy working with her in-laws at their laundry, making what little they could.
That left the job of overseeing Millie to me at an early age, though I never minded.
We ate little, slept in the same bed, and helped around the laundry.
Most days were spent at the local schoolhouse.
And although the rich kids weren’t nice to us, I made friends with Amby, the banker’s heir, and life became better for everyone.
Amby really was the best part of school.
Well, him and numbers, but numbers made sense to me.
Numbers behave and follow rules. Memories do not behave.
I understood that as I found Amby’s taller mark on the door frame above Millie’s.
I still remembered him standing there, biting his lip to keep from laughing at me for needing to tiptoe to mark his height.
Millie touched the cursive name and whispered, “Visit him.”
“No, he’s married, I’m sure,” I reminded her for the tenth time since we decided to return to Everdeen.
Amby didn’t want me. He refused my marriage proposal without debate so he could find a wife and have children.
I was just a boyhood romance, a fond dalliance.
He didn’t shed a single tear over me. It was hard enough leaving him the first time, so I certainly didn’t want to stir up those old feelings by visiting him now.
I cleared my throat and inspected my dusty riding boots. “Enough of that. Let’s finish the assessment.”
She eyed me with disappointment. “Are you still set on selling?”
“Yes.” I didn’t know how else to emphasize the necessity of funds to her sentimental brain, so I repeated myself, “Yes.”
“But look at this mark. This one here,” Millie pleaded from the door frame.
Sighing, I glanced back to see what other memories she felt compelled to drag up. She was pointing at my name with a twitch to her lips that spelled trouble. “We’re five years apart. So why was your mark when we left not much higher than mine? You were really short for a teen.”
“So what? I’m tall now. Over six feet tall, thank you very much. No need to dwell on the past.”
Millie snorted. “Shall we mark your great height now? Celebrate the grand achievement.”
“Enough,” I groaned heavily, trying to play along, but my heart wasn’t in it.
I left her to march around the small room and inspected the four-poster bed where we would need to sleep wedged together, as we always did.
The dipping mattress smelled of old hay, but a few tugs to one of the bedposts proved the wood frame was steady.
Well crafted. The floral scroll work was indicative of the Leon Commonwealth, just south of the forests beyond Everdeen.
If I remember right, the antique bed came with Memaw when she married.
Was she Leoneas? If so, it explained our darker hair and light olive skin.
How odd that we never knew Memaw’s origins.
It made me feel guilty, evaluating her bed to sell once we were done here.
It would fetch a good amount of cals. We could add it to the sale of the laundry for my dowry to Anna.