Chapter 4
The Village
When the darkness creeps in with tendrils of warmth, it neither intrudes nor barges. It is a silent cat, waiting on the rooftop for the chance to poke and to prod.
“Hello, you.”
The beckoning voice is back, a small lapse since his last visit. This time, I’m no longer in darkness, rather I am sitting in a field full of flowers. So different from the stark surroundings of our village.
The smell of them fills my lungs and my head. They flow with the breeze pulling itself through the field of green and violet. The petals look like waves in the wind as it caresses their softness. The sun above has heated the ground, and I lay down to relax in its soft warmth.
“Hello,” I softly reply.
Eyes closed, I smile and take in the moment.
This is the peace I know. The peace that finds its way back to me even through the darkness.
It welcomes me. My fingers press and comb through the blooms, relishing in the gentle petals that move in between my knuckles.
The scent wafts around me, pulling my mind into a deeper bliss.
Laying here could make anyone wish to take no leave.
A shadow steps in the path of the sun, blocking its warm embrace.
“Elivienne.”
My eyes open wide at the sound of his voice, but the shadow is gone and I am sleeping atop a haystack near the riverbed. My cheek peels off the straw one fiber at a time, my sweaty skin clinging to its dusty fingers. How on earth did I fall asleep here?
Sawyer’s form emerges from the bushes in front of his porch in the distance. His speck of a body stands out in the monochromatic landscape. He walks into the pasture towards my house.
Using the hoe I brought with me to clear weeds, I jump down from the stack, the ground crunching beneath me.
“Sawyer!” I frame my hands around my face to call. He doesn’t hear me so I step out of the shade into the blazing sun. “Hey! Sawyer!”
He stops and looks over his shoulder directly at me and seems to look to the sky in thanks before heading my way.
Nonchalantly, I wipe my face and dress off as best as I can given the dust in this place.
My hair’s a mess but there is little I can do about that now, so I tuck the blonde locks behind my ears.
“I would say ‘Good afternoon’ but it looks like you’ve just awoken.” Sawyer laughs. I rush into his arms and breathe him in.
“Don’t make fun. A girl needs her rest.” I nuzzle my face into his tunic. “You said you were gone?” He had work that called him away again, but I am not complaining about this sudden appearance.
Releasing me, he grabs my hand and hoe, leading the way back to my house. Ma should be home from her personal errands by now. Though she’s not my true mother, she takes immaculate care of me. The least I can do is work the farm and house.
If only I could stay awake.
“I’m just about to go again, things changed. Plus, it should only be a couple of days. Duty calls.” He smiles at me and I look away instantly because he is damning. From his plush, pliant lips, his firm grasp on my hand, I could take him right now.
He squeezes my hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine –” I retuck my hair – “same as always.”
“Good, I’m glad.” He looks up and waves at Hal, who sits on the railing of his own porch. His father must be sleeping off yesterday’s ordeal. I know very little of my young neighbor’s life, but we get along well enough it hasn’t been a problem.
Sawyer pauses on the dirt path in front of my home and rests the hoe against the exterior.
“Things might change when I come back from this trip. I don’t want you to worry but I might be gone a lot more if it goes well.
The –” he scratches his head – “viability of my assignment needs to be assessed and with that, there are a lot of variables. I’m only telling you because you deserve to know. ”
My heart drops and I feel that worry split inside me. He works on some trade deals of sorts. What could possibly pull him from here?
More opportunity. The village barely exists on a map; I could never expect him to stay.
“I see.” I look down at my dirty soles. “I mean, I understand.”
His thumb lifts my chin up and I try to hide my true feelings on the subject. “Let me see if I can come back earlier so we can talk. I am sorry, Liv. But Gods, I am strung a little thin here.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I reply. “Don’t let me contribute to your stress. Work is important.” I take a step towards the house and he lets me. The creak of Ma’s chair lets me know she made it back safely.
Sawyer cracks his neck and promises, “Liv, I am trying to secure a future where you can experience a safer, less stressful life. Give me time to sort things through. I will come back for you. I will always come back for you.”
“Bye, Sawyer.” I wave and walk into the house. Something in me doesn’t have anything else to say at the moment.
Ma shifts in her chair downstairs and questions, “Liv? Everything okay?” I smile at her voice, nerves calming as I remove my shoes and pad into the kitchen. Our small table is covered in doilies handmade over the course of my time here. She’s got a pot of water boiling for tea.
I’m so thirsty.
She sits in her usual sitting chair made of tired wood and takes a big sweeping look at me as I walk into the space. She opens her arms to me and gestures to come. Her embrace is tender and pure. Today’s venture into the further neighboring village took longer, I take it.
“Now what happened out there? I worry his coming and going is doing more damage than good,” she whispers as I slide down in front of her chair.
She begins to comb through my messy hair with her hands.
Those tired, calloused hands that have taken care of me.
I should leave, find a career, make something of myself but the thought of leaving her here to deal with Trentin makes me shiver.
“I made some pots you can bring to the market tomorrow,” she explains as she weaves my hair. “They remind me of my home.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” I ask. She won’t speak of her history, and from what little she offers I know something awful occurred to bring her here. No family, no strings connected to another life.
“No, never. I couldn’t anyway.” Ma sighs and reaches over into one of her market baskets, revealing a bundle of flowers.
“White or purple?”
“Purple.”
She weaves a few of the flowers in the twists and hands me one. It’s a simple and delicate flower. I don’t know the name of it, but I haven’t seen this kind before. The purple is more than simple. It’s bold and regal.
Twisting the stem between my thumb and index, I raise it to smell its petals. I pull back slightly, intrigued by the various notes of its scent. Some forest, something else and some lavender.
I love it.
“Thank you,” I say as I stand up, looking over my shoulder at the one mirror we have in the house. It’s some sort of decorative item Ma must have picked up at the market years ago.
My braid snakes from my temple around to my opposite shoulder, adorned with these interesting blooms.
I start towards the door but pause at the makeshift bookcase in the sitting area.
We have five books, all in terrible condition but they still mean something to me.
I walk over to the novels and pick up my favorite, a story about a man and a woman who fall in love by hunting and foraging together.
Primitive, but it excites me still. I caress the worn spine and creak open the cover.
I run my fingers down the delicate title page and bite my lip thinking about the lovers embracing within these pages. I flip to chapter twenty and slide the purple flower in the crease, slowly closing the book up. Perhaps its scent will carry throughout the pages.
Rung by rung, I climb the ladder into my loft and sit on my crunchy mattress. A few moments pass as I sit in complete silence by myself. This room, my quaint sanctuary, has provided me with a home since I…
Since I…
Since, well, I can remember.
The kettle whistles, drawing me back to the present. Ma’s never-ending work ethic elicits movement from me, and I decide to go finish my work in the weeds before we settle in for the night.
Hopefully, we can make more money, more grata, tomorrow so that we can feed ourselves properly.