38. Penny #3
My sister regaled us with what must have been a dramatized version of the Bone Men invading the farm, claiming all its resources had been pledged to Eeus.
They put Warren to work alongside their own men, tending the fields they planned to strip bare at the end of the season.
She seemed to think it all rather funny in hindsight, mostly the part where the hand of a god swept through the place and cleansed it of evil.
Mother claimed the farm was blessed now. Said it was all thanks to Kit and me.
I hadn’t told her about Merrick.
“He’s dead, too, you know,” I mumbled as she and Sayla carried over platters of beans and bread along with the cheese.
Both their eyes darted up, asking for clarification I’d hoped to not have to give. Kit’s hand rubbed up and down my back, leaving a track of warmth in its wake.
“Merrick,” I said.
“Oh…” Mother had set the food down, so her hands were free to fly to her chest, clutching at her heart.
He stabbed me there. Would it ease her grief to know that?
He would have given us all for his misguided faith.
She shouldn’t mourn him.
I shouldn’t.
But I did.
Sayla looked similarly stricken as she glanced from Mother to me. Then her brow furrowed.
“He was a bad man, Penny.” The statement might have sounded resolute if not for the waver in her voice. “I think he’d been bad for a while.”
“A while,” I agreed. “But not always.”
Rosie pushed out her chair and stood, then went around to where Mother and Sayla were frozen in place.
“I can help with that,” she said softly, nodding toward the platters and plates.
Mother stepped away and turned toward the window on the back wall, then gazed silently toward the fields outside while Rosie and Sayla served the rest of us.
In the quiet that followed, Thoma cleared his throat. “I have to say, I rather like it here.”
“We like him here, too,” Warren added, then leaned over to clap Thoma on the shoulder.
Thoma grinned wide. “Warren offered me a job.”
My heart thumped at the thought. With Reimond gone, Ashpoint didn’t hold much for him anymore. All he’d wanted was a place to belong, and here with my family, I knew he’d find that.
“That’s wonderful,” Kit said, and I nodded agreement.
“Liam’s been staying in town,” Thoma continued. “He’s already eager to get back to Ashpoint and his family. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know there’s an Ashpoint to go back to, and that they’re safe.”
With plates set before us, Kit reached around me and grabbed a piece of cheese, then brought it up to offer me a bite.
I nibbled off a piece and chewed dutifully while the others started on their own meals.
“What about you two?” Thoma asked. “Will you be staying for a while?”
I wanted to ask where since the house was full to bursting with Mother, Sayla, Warren, and now Thoma taking up all the available room plus some, but Kit was quicker to speak.
“Perhaps for the night, but we have a cart full of things and I think we’re both ready to be settled.”
“Settled where?” Mother’s voice was soft but still enough to startle me. She turned from the window and regarded me warily.
I sat a little straighter from my perch across Kit’s thighs while mixed emotions battled for control of my face.
“Kit’s taking me home to Forstford,” I said.
Mother’s head rocked back in a nod. “Forstford is home now?”
The others watched me, too. Sayla and Warren and Rosie and Thoma, all looking. Kit’s palm pressed like a tether against the small of my back. Soothing. Settling.
“Kit is,” I replied. “And he has a house there.”
“I remember,” Mother said.
Quiet filled the space around me, and I searched the faces of the others in the room. It wasn’t quite the peace of Paneus, but it was calm. Maybe home could be more than one place, but it was only one person.
“We’ll come back,” I assured them, or maybe myself.
“You’d better,” Sayla warned.
“Often,” Kit added, and I gave him a squeeze.
“And for the wedding!” Sayla slid into the empty chair beside Warren and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.
He laughed as his face flushed pink.
“We’re planning for after fall harvest,” she carried on. “You have to be here for that, too. We’ll need the hands. And shoulders, Mister Mosel.” She bounced her brows at Kit, then laughed when I groaned.
“At least you have the horse back,” I said and gestured vaguely to the cart and mare parked outside.
Another bout of laughter answered my statement.
“And how do you plan to get that cart to Forstford without our horse?” Sayla asked. “Going to pull it yourselves?”
“I think it’s about time we got a horse of our own,” Kit replied. “Especially if we plan to visit with any frequency.”
He grabbed another piece of cheese and fed it to me as the conversation carried on.
Sayla detailed her wedding plans while the rest of us listened.
After taking a few bites of bread for himself, Kit resumed rubbing over my back and occasionally scrubbing his cheek against mine.
I sank further into him, fully slumped and dozing, able to rest and dream surrounded by family, holding tightly to the man I called home.