Chapter 17
POV: Sorsha
Callum sat down on the porch and sighed deeply.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Sitting next to him, I echoed his sigh. “My father beat my mother regularly. One night, after a beating, she stumbled and hit her head on the windowsill.” I paused, the memory of her face sharp as a bell.
Callum’s hand covered mine and squeezed lightly.
“I helped her up and checked her head. There was a spot of blood, but not much. I made her comfortable, and she went to sleep… and never woke up.”
“I’m so sorry. I heard at school that she’d passed away.”
“It was such a shock,” I went on. “Her body was ice-cold when I tried to wake her, and instinct told me she was gone.”
An arm came around me, pulling me close. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s a long time ago.” I drew a breath. “Was I right about your mother?”
Callum nodded slowly. “Yes. I was seven. She was angry with him because she hated that he took me along to the pit when he fought.”
“Your dad also fought?”
“Yes. Most Friday nights. I went along, told to watch and learn. Not to be a berserker brawler but to keep some brain power,” he said, eyes distant.
“So, what happened?”
“He backhanded her. She fell and hit her head on the edge of the stove.”
The similarity struck me at once. My father didn’t have a berserker in him, but he used a whip after punching her a few times, careful not to damage his fists. Ryan had learned from him. I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away.
“I’m sorry too. It seems we both lost our mothers young.” I squinted up at him. “I don’t remember ever seeing your mother.”
“We only moved here after her death.”
“Really? Oh.” I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest. “So that’s why you know your way around Mount Pinnacle.”
“Yes, and because I fought in the pit most weekends.”
We sat quietly for a while. I’d never been to school, but Ryan would have told me if Callum was given to rages. He would have shown more respect.
“You went to school with Ryan, right? But he didn’t know your name was Callum or that Sully was a shortened version of Sullivan. He never mentioned anything about raging.”
Callum chuckled. “You and your brother are younger than me. To be honest, I don’t mind being called Sully — but not by you.”
“Oh, so how old are you?” I asked curiously, wondering about my own age. I had once known, but the years dragged by, and without my mom, no one remembered my birthday.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“How old am I?”
His head snapped around. One hand fastened on the nape of my neck, tilting my face up.
“You don’t know how old you are?”
I watched his eyes shift, the whites running red. Red for rage.
“Please don’t be angry. I’ve just forgotten.”
He drew in a breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the whites were white again.
“Do you know when your birthday is?”
“Yes. Eighteenth of March.”
He shook his head slightly, a mix of anger and disbelief. “You’re twenty. You started working when you were no older than fifteen. Sometimes you went along with your mother when she walked by, but after she died, your father worked for a while, and soon you took over.”
Wow. I was so old.
But I did remember how my father hardly brought home food, and I planted vegetables in the small, rocky garden out back so we wouldn’t starve.
When he told me I needed to work, I thought I’d be better at it than him. But people only laughed when I offered to move heavy things. Not surprising, really.
My stomach rumbled, and Callum immediately got to his feet. “Let’s feed you,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Why don’t you have chickens?” I asked.
“You move on so quickly, change the subject as if nothing touches you.”
“I’m not here to change the world. I accept things and move on. It’s the only way to live,” I admitted.
He stared at me for a moment, admiration flickering across his face. “So, you want to buy chickens. You know roosters crow very early in the morning.”
“That’s okay. At least then we’d have eggs, because I don’t know what we’re going to eat now.”
I was sure the icebox was empty, and the bread was likely stale.
“Ah, I see. You think there’s nothing to eat?”
I nodded.
He grabbed the three smaller sacks in one hand. “There’s a bag of oats, and there are lentils and potatoes. We can make soup.”
“Okay.” I smiled, grabbing his hand and letting him pull me up.
He undid the sacks before tucking them beneath the counter.
I sidled up and watched everything he did. I could cook vegetables, which was easy, but Callum had all sorts of herbs and spices he added, making everything taste better.
He laid fire in the stove, put a pot on to boil, washed the potatoes, and slipped them into the boiling water. Sliding open the drawer where he kept the tea, he pulled out something wrapped in brown paper and handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
To my delight, I found dried meat and bit into it with relish. It amazed me that I could go without food for a whole day previously, but since being with Callum, my body wanted to be fed regularly.
Grabbing a piece for himself, Callum said, “I forgot the satchel outside.”
Just as I took another bite, there was a knock at the door, and I stiffened. Should I answer? What if it were my father? Surely he hadn’t already spent the money Callum had given him? Not in just a couple of days.
The knock came again, louder this time, and I hesitantly got up. But then I heard Callum; he must have walked through to the forge and seen whoever was knocking.
“Garth?”
“How are things, Sully? I hope you enjoyed your honeymoon.”
“Did you get my letter?”
“Yes, and that’s why I’m here. You canceled your orders for the next three months?”
“Correct.”
“Is there a problem?” Garth sounded a little desperate — clearly, he depended on Callum’s business.
“When my wife is treated with disdain and your daughter resorts to extortion, then yes, there’s a problem,” Callum said coldly.
“Abububa—” Garth spluttered. “I will reprimand Edith, and I promise this will never happen again.”
There was a moment of silence, and I pressed my ear to the door.
“Sorsha has put up with Edith her entire life. A reprimand doesn’t cut it. Good night,” Callum said with finality.
I quickly darted into the kitchen, but I wasn’t quick enough, and Callum must have seen me. He shut the front door and walked in with the satchel, looking very pleased with himself.
I glanced at him, and suddenly I couldn’t help but laugh. I wished I could see Edith’s face.
“She’s going to spit fire when Garth reprimands her,” I said between breaths.
“When you go to the market—”
“Tomorrow,” I cut him off with a grin.
“Tomorrow,” he nodded. “Make sure you pass by the store.”