Chapter Eight
Maddie’s legacy lives on in small ways.
But Dyna was right. She was no fighter or adventurer. There was little she could do, so she took herself to her tower room and gathered her drawing things. While her sister and many of her cousins preferred to practice at the archery field, her source of comfort was in drawing.
Her grandmama was the one who’d taught her to draw, a slow, painstaking process that Claray had reveled in.
Grandmama had worked with her often, and the result of all that work showed.
Every drawing she made was, in her heart, for her grandmamma.
It was her way of thanking the woman who had made such a difference in her life.
The woman who had, singlehandedly, plucked her from the arms of the men who had tormented her and used her against her mama.
Even though Madeline Grant was gone, she would live on in Claray’s heart forever.
Now Grandsire was gone too, and Claray missed him terribly. One of her goals this Yule was to draw a picture of him. She’d worked at it over and over, hoping to get it right, but he refused to be captured in a mere picture.
She worked on it for some time, so focused she had no notion of how much time was passing, when a knock on the door interrupted her work. “Enter.”
Aunt Jennie came in, carrying a small package wrapped in twine. “I brought you a wee gift.”
“How is Mama? Did you fix her?” She set her materials down in their storage box to give her aunt her complete attention.
“She’ll be better in time. Gracie and Merelda did a fine job straightening the bone, so I only had to make a slight adjustment before I wrapped her leg up tightly.”
“Are you leaving right away?” She adored her auntie, so she hoped the answer would be no. They did not get enough time together.
“Nay, I’ll stay a few more days, mayhap a sennight, just to make sure the bone doesn’t move. You must help her whenever you can, especially for the next sennight. Once the bone begins to heal on its own, it’s less likely to move. Bones are quite magical, you see. They will fix themselves,
though it takes time. And once it finally heals, your mother will be afraid to use it at first. You’ll have to help her when that time comes. Go ahead and open your package.”
“Aunt Jennie, you did not need to bring me a gift.”
“I’ve had this wrapped for a while. Aedan had another batch shipped in, and I thought you could put it to good use.”
She untied the twine and pulled the wrapping back carefully.
There were two parts to the gift. One was a sheaf of paper, so rare it was as precious as any gem to Claray.
Aunt Jennie had given some to her before, for Uncle Aedan periodically had it shipped in from Europe so that Jennie might chronicle her healing adventures.
The second gift was in another box. She looked at it and then back at her aunt because she had no idea what could be inside.
“Open it. Go ahead,” her aunt prompted.
She took the cover off the box and peered inside. There were various chunks and a few different colored sticks. “Many thanks to you, Aunt Jennie, but what are they?”
“You know how much the ink stains if you’re not careful? This is chalk. Aedan had quite a bit of it shipped to us. Their natural form is in the earth and artists search for the right size and shapes to cut into sticks they can use in their artistry. Some are from Germany.
’Twill allow you to add color to your drawings.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know quite what to say. What an amazing gift. Thank you, Aunt Jennie.”