We Help Each Other
Outside, the ache of loneliness seeps deeper than ever before. There’s something colder about it. More permanent. Before now, Euphemia had hope that one day she might regain her mother’s approval. Feel loved by her again. Appreciated.
Now that hope is lost.
Euphemia swallows the ache like it’s a splintered bone, and she starts walking. Where? She hasn’t the faintest idea. Wherever her feet will carry her, she supposes.
Thorfell her mind whispers.
But that’s absurd, a foolish thought Euphemia quickly shakes away. She doesn’t even know a thing about Thorfell Crag, nor how to find it. Not to mention, if there is one person she hopes never to cross paths with again, it would be Kelda. Such an unsettling woman…
Although, Euphemia also doesn’t love the idea of leaving her here. Alone with her unknowing family. She has no choice though. Euphemia can only hope that Kelda’s intentions take her somewhere other than Euphemia’s family, and that after tonight, she’ll leave their tavern and never return—
It is at that serendipitous moment that the unsettling woman with all-too-knowing eyes steps out from the shadows and into Euphemia’s direct line of path.
“Devil take you!” Euphemia clutches her chest, leaping back.
Her breaths are erratic things she tries and fails to regain control of.
“What are you doing out here? I swear, you were just—” Euphemia glances back toward the Saint’s Hearth, notes the dim glow of firelight still fluttering behind the windows and their close proximity.
Lowering her voice into a harsh whisper, she asks again, “What are you doing out here?”
“Getting some fresh air.” Kelda’s shoulders bob beneath the fur pelt draped over her shoulders. “And you? Where are you off to at such an hour, little cloud?”
Euphemia’s jaw clenches. “Don’t call me that. And it’s none of your concern.”
Recognizing the truth in her own words, Euphemia marches past the woman.
She doesn’t have to entertain this conversation, and she most certainly doesn’t have to do so right outside her mother’s tavern.
But as Euphemia becomes a flurry of swishing skirts and stomping feet, Kelda leaps after her, matching her strides.
“Ah, but I am making it my concern, little cloud,” she says with saccharine satisfaction.
Despite being much shorter than Euphemia, she manages to maintain the gait without a single huff.
Kelda reaches across to Euphemia’s pocket and gives it a tap.
The heavy lump of coins jingle, bringing a sly gleam to Kelda’s knowing gaze.
“Who knew one night of pouring ale could be so profitable.”
Euphemia’s steps falter.
The insinuation hangs heavily between them and Euphemia realizes with plummeting dread that Kelda knows.
There is no way for her to know though. No one saw Euphemia steal her sister’s dowry except Ismene.
Unless Kelda had been spying on them. But that seems unlikely as well.
The chest is tucked safely in the back where no guests are allowed, and Kelda was clearly already outside. She couldn’t have seen.
The longer Euphemia remains silent, the sharper Kelda’s grin becomes. Sharp enough that her fake tooth glistens in the moonlight.
A game is afoot here. One that Euphemia is tired of being part of without knowing the rules.
Abruptly, she spins on the woman, stopping in the moonlit street. “What do you want from me?”
Kelda stops, but that wicked, mocking grin remains. “Me? Want something from you?”
“Don’t—” Euphemia silences her with a finger.
“I may come from a simple life, but I am no fool. You have been following my family all day—perhaps longer. And now you’re cornering me in the dead of night.
There is a reason, I am sure of it. And if you are as respectable as I think you might be, you will tell me that reason, Kelda Varinsson, instead of continuing to toy with me like a cat and mouse. ”
By the time Euphemia finishes, her chest is heaving, already raw from…everything.
But something about speaking her mind feels good too. Reparative. Especially as she watches the delight in Kelda’s eyes flicker.
The facade finally falls and it is just two women standing in a dark road in the middle of night, each with their own secrets held tightly to their chests. But at least now there are no more pretenses.
Kelda’s head tilts as she slowly drags her gaze up and down Euphemia. Those unnervingly knowing eyes snag once on Euphemia’s pocket. They note her heaving chest. The wetness in her red eyes.
In an eerie, almost singsong voice, Kelda finally breaks the silence by saying, “You are running from something, little cloud.”
Euphemia’s chest rises and falls with sinking dread. She has been caught. Her secret and shame found out. And by a stranger traveling through town, of all people. Someone who only exchanged a few short words with her before adequately deducing that she is a dark cloud. A curse.
If this stranger was able to perceive her truth within only a few chance encounters, it won’t be long before others find out as well.
Euphemia cannot be here when that happens.
“I-I have to go.” She pushes past the woman, clambering toward isolation, toward a redemption she knows she doesn’t deserve but one her family does.
Euphemia only makes it a few short steps before stopping. The dirt road ahead disappears into pitch blackness and she can’t control her breathing. Can’t imagine facing the emptiness of a life without her family. Her home. Her brewing.
A cold hand rests upon her shoulder.
Euphemia tries shrugging it off, but she’s lost all of her bravado. “Leave me be. Please.”
The hand does not release her. Glancing back, Euphemia finds Kelda watching over her with something like motherly warmth in her gaze. She can’t help but feel herself leaning toward it, hungry for even an ounce of affection. Something to make her feel loved.
“Where is it you are running to?” Kelda asks softly. No judgment. No pretenses. No hidden accents. Just openly seeking honesty.
Euphemia is so disoriented, she actually answers, “Anywhere but here.”
Only once she’s taken a few calming breaths does she realize she’s said too much. And to the wrong person. But the damage is already done.
So what if Kelda knows she’s leaving. The whole town will know of her disappearance by morning anyway.
But she can’t help but watch Kelda with eyes as wide as the moon, wondering what this cunning woman might do with this information.
What she’ll do with anything she learns about Euphemia and her family…
A long moment passes.
Crickets chirp.
The wind rustles the leaves in the trees.
And the gentle sounds of night finally lull Euphemia into a momentary calm.
Euphemia takes a step aside and truly looks at this strange woman. “Who are you? Truly.”
Kelda’s shoulders roll back. Her crooked spine straightens, proving all of Euphemia’s suspicions correct. “I am a friend, I hope. Someone who needed to watch you to make sure you were someone worth revealing myself to. Someone who might be able to help you the same way you can help me.”
“You cannot help me. No one can.”
Holding up a finger, Kelda tuts. “So quick to assume the worst, little cloud.” She pauses long enough for Euphemia to roll her eyes. “I would not discredit me so quickly. Are you not in need of shelter? A new life?”
“How did you…” Euphemia’s knees feel weak and she squeezes her hands into fists to keep her balance. “Speak plainly. Please. I cannot take any more of your riddles.”
By way of apology, Kelda throws both hands up. “Of course. I will be blunt then. I know of the rumors surrounding your family. Your father, the deserter. Your youngest sister, broken. Your mother, a woman running her husband’s business. Scandalous, the way the people talk about it.”
Euphemia’s fists tighten. “Do not talk about my—”
Kelda cuts her off, utterly unbothered by her show of emotion. “And then there is you, little cloud. The tempered one. The people whisper many unkind things about you.”
Tears sting Euphemia’s eyes. She tells herself she doesn’t care.
They’re all gossips and fibbers anyhow. The conversations she overhears after church sermons or in the middle of a long night at the tavern would make God smite the whole town.
Petty thieveries, slanderous gossip, and inconsequential squabbles.
Who cares what the people say about her. She doesn’t need their approval.
Only, it’s not her own reputation that worries her.
Before those fears can settle, Kelda clasps her hands behind her back and starts to pace.
“But I care little for the town blather. Everyone passes their own judgments. Myself included. And you were right. I have been watching you. For quite some time now, in fact. Passed my own judgments, I have. And from what I’ve seen, you are a hard worker.
You’re someone who puts her family first, even when they do not always do the same in return.
Someone unafraid to stand up for herself and others. ”
Kelda pauses, perhaps to give Euphemia time to respond or ask questions.
She does not.
She cannot feel her legs.
Her tongue is as swollen as a slug in her mouth.
Kelda stops pacing. Those sparks of eyes jolting Euphemia as if to try to charge her back to life. “But I also see your darkness, little cloud. I do not know what it is you did, but I know you harbor guilt for something.”
Shame burns Euphemia’s eyes. An ocean of grief presses against them, and after months of barely holding herself together, she can contain it no longer. The levee breaks, warbling her voice until she is drowning in emotion.
“What am I guilty for then? What crime have I committed?”