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afairmaiden · 1 month ago

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The Others (Part 4)

For the Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge). A continuation of The Others, immediately following part 3.

Thursday morning I walked into the kitchen and saw Sarah holding a knife.

I had woken up early—or so I thought—feeling surprisingly well-rested given how long it had taken me to fall asleep. For a long time, I had simply sat on the edge of the bed and tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened, and failing that, remembered the food Ellen had brought earlier. There were fried potatoes again, and a slice of apple pie. I ate in darkness, remembering the candles in the drawer, but not daring to light them, and feeling that, in any case, darkness was the safer option. My headache had returned, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

I dropped the necklace in my backpack, then found my pajama pants and a first aid pouch with some pain reliever. Then I lay awake for what seemed like hours, trying to decide on the best course of action.

Stick to the objective, I imagined Gina saying. But what was the objective? Would I be able to escape, let alone make my way back to civilization? Would it even be worth trying to get the kids out as well? Strange as they were, they seemed nice enough, and it felt wrong to simply leave them in such a place, though I couldn’t see any help for it.

Suddenly it occurred to me that this might all be a test. We’d always known there would be one, before we became full Lightbringers, and now—there was a moment of brilliant clarity. Of course I was being watched; they were always watching. And of course I wouldn’t be able to rely on my powers. Could I prove myself worthy without them? Could I stay calm in the face of chaos and confusion? Could I open the eyes of the blind with only my words? I was grasping at straws now, but it was enough. The idea sent a thrill through me, followed by a wave of relief. At last I felt myself start to relax and soon drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to the sun streaming in through the window. The house was quiet, and for a moment it all seemed so normal that I wondered if I hadn’t dreamed up the events of the previous night. Then I tried to move and instantly felt sore all over, almost like I had a bad sunburn on top of my already aching muscles, and found that the headache I thought was gone had come back with a vengeance.

I took some more pain reliever and tried to meditate with little success, then settled for lying still and taking deep, calming breaths. Finally, the pain subsided enough that I could get up and start looking through the clothes Ellen had brought. There were two long skirts, in reddish-brown and gray, three button-up shirts, in faded yellow, pink, and white, a large apron, long socks, caps in various colors and styles, and a number of smaller items I assumed to be undergarments. I chose the white shirt with the brown skirt, then brushed my hair as well as I could and tied it back, embarrassed as I felt how greasy it was, before making my way to the kitchen, where the first thing I saw was a child with a knife.

There was a moment of panic, but I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to start a fire.”

She didn’t look up. She was crouched in front of what I realized was an old-fashioned wood stove, the door open, a small pile of crumpled paper and broken twigs inside. In her other hand I saw what looked like a metal rod. She held it close to the pile and quickly ran the knife down its edge a few times, sending out showers of sparks. A few moments later, I saw a small flame.

I quickly looked around to see if the others were safe. David and Elizabeth were sitting at the table reading. The cat was perched on a shelf above them, glaring down at me. James was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Out getting more wood. Aunt Ellen isn’t home. She had to leave early this morning to go to the Coopers’ and probably won’t be home ’til late. We’ve already done our morning chores and had breakfast.”

She kept her eyes on the fire as she added more sticks. David and Elizabeth smiled and said good morning as I sat down at the table, but immediately went back to their books. I couldn’t help noticing that they seemed less open than the day before, as though they were now as nervous of me as I was of them. I felt a twinge of satisfaction at the thought that we were playing on level ground for a change, then realized this was wrong. I told myself that I didn’t want to scare children, and I certainly wasn’t afraid of them. I was here to help them, and their aunt had given me the perfect opportunity. Although the more I thought about that, the more I felt anger rising up within me, and for once I wasn’t afraid of it. Of course I would never hurt them, but she couldn’t have known that. It was irresponsible, neglectful even, to leave them in my care.

Before I could get too worked up, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on light thoughts—tolerance, empathy, compassion—and as I repeated to myself that I was going to help them, I felt my mood start to lift, as fear and anger were replaced with a sense of calm, collected benevolence and magnanimity that the Lightbringers were known for.

The feeling lasted only a few seconds before James came in and dropped an armload of wood by the stove.

“I guess that should be enough for now,” he said, then looked at me. “Good morning.” And then, “Oh! What happened to your eyes?”

I suddenly felt self-conscious as they all looked at me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Why, are they red?”

They nodded.

“Did you have trouble sleeping?” asked Elizabeth.

“A little,” I answered, hoping they wouldn’t press further.

Fortunately, they seemed to accept this, only suggesting that I drink more water and try to rest later. I considered asking how they had slept and whether anything unusual had happened the night before, but decided not to press my luck. Now it occurred to me that they had clearly been up for some time.

“What time is it?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized it was a stupid question since they probably wouldn’t have a clock, so it came as a surprise when Sarah looked out the window and promptly answered, “About ten-thirty. We were just about to make lunch.”

“We were going to make chili,” added David, casting a somewhat dejected glance at a pot on the counter, “but we forgot how long the beans have to cook for, so that’ll have to wait until dinner.”

I looked at the pot, and then to the stove. It seemed dangerous, as well as wasteful to use so much firewood for one meal.

“Maybe we could just eat them plain,” I suggested, but Elizabeth shook her head.

“Uncooked beans are poison,” she informed me very seriously. “They have to soak overnight and then come to a full boil for at least half an hour before they’re safe.”

I tried to contain my shock as I mentally added food poisoning to the long and growing list of dangers outside the city.

“Oh. Well, you know,” I said, “we never had to worry about that in the city. There you can just order whatever you want from a machine and have it come out fully cooked in a minute, just like magic.”

The children looked politely interested, but not particularly impressed.

“We know,” said Elizabeth.

“You do? How?”

“The others told us.”

I couldn’t help staring as I tried to understand what she had just said. I waited, but she did not elaborate.

“Well, we’ll just have to figure something else out,” said Sarah, setting the pot on the stove. “We still have some bread, and jam, and we might have enough eggs for French toast.”

As they began discussing this, I heard the sound of something approaching outside, and the next minute, the conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Before anyone could move toward it, I stood up.

“I’ll get it,” I told them, ready to act as the responsible adult, even as my heart started racing at the thought of meeting more people.

I opened the door to find a tall, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, dressed all in black and holding a large wooden crate. Behind him stood a horse-drawn cart that looked like something out of a history book. He was, of course, shining with the same light as the others, a fact that was no less irritating today than the day before, but which I was now determined to ignore. Still, this came as less of a surprise than the fact that he looked strangely familiar. He seemed surprised to see me as well, and held my gaze a little too long.

“Ah, excuse me,” he said finally, “but is Miss Hall at home?”

“She left early for the Coopers’,” said James, suddenly appearing behind me.

“Already? It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” the man asked, then, without waiting for an answer, glanced back at me and added, “You all managing alright on your own?”

“We’re okay,” James said. “We were just talking about having some lunch.”

“Well, maybe this will help. Eggs, milk, and butter,” he said, setting the crate in the doorway, “as well as some of your aunt’s books I’ve been meaning to return. Tell her thank you for me.” He hesitated a moment longer, then gave a quick smile and a nod and said, “Well, guess I’ll see you all Sunday.”

“What’s happening Sunday?” I asked James once the door was closed.

“Church,” he answered. Then after a moment, “You are going, aren’t you? Everyone’s going to be there.”

I froze. It was a trap and I knew it, but in that moment, my desire not to offend them overrode every other instinct. I was just about to say of course, I’d love to come, when he seemed to remember something.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to.”

With that, he turned and hurried to put the books away, leaving me standing in the hall in growing confusion. By the time I returned to the kitchen, I found Sarah already cutting bread, while David and Elizabeth took dishes and utensils out of the cabinets and drawers. James set out a few ingredients and put the rest away before going back outside. He returned a few minutes later with a small brown paper package which he set on the counter, then started setting the table.

I felt like I should do something, but since I didn’t know anything about cooking, I contented myself with supervising as they worked.

At last, the meal, such as it was, was ready, French toast with butter and three kinds of jam. The children gathered around the table, and as I had observed the previous day, didn’t immediately sit down, but remained standing a minute as they repeated the words of an evidently familiar prayer. It was strange, and might have been almost amusing to hear them address their god as though he were actually present and listening, if there wasn’t the smallest fear in the back of my mind that it might actually be true. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought as they spoke, their light seemed to glow a little more brightly. Fortunately, the moment passed quickly.

“What’s your aunt doing at the Coopers’?” I asked once we had all sat down.

“She’s a midwife,” said Sarah.

“A what?”

“She helps deliver babies.”

“Oh.”

I said nothing, but felt my heart race as I considered the implications. Of course they would have babies. Where else would the children come from? What was more, apparently they were born with enough regularity to justify employing someone just to deliver them. I remembered Ellen’s words from the previous day; they had lived here for two hundred years and somehow not only survived, but actually grown in population. They probably had no concept of birth control, let alone genetic testing or prenatal screening, and I shuddered to think how much needless suffering and death there must be as a result. Of course there was death in the city too, but with rare exceptions, it was by design, something that was carefully managed, planned, chosen. The idea of leaving life and death up to mere chance seemed almost as incomprehensible as leaving them up to God, and for all their apparent light, the idea of anyone choosing this sort of life seemed to be another undeniable proof of deep mental and moral darkness.

I gasped as I realized another thing.

“We should be quarantined.”

The children looked at me in confusion.

“She shouldn’t have gone,” I explained. “It isn’t safe. You don’t know—I could be carrying something—frankly, it’s reckless and irresponsible—” I realized, too late, that it was probably inappropriate to be telling them all this—it wasn’t their fault, after all—but they needed to understand the dangers. They seemed shockingly unbothered.

“We knew you weren’t sick,” Sarah said with a shrug.

“But you didn’t. Not really. See, there are these tiny organisms that are too small to see—”

“We know what germs are,” James said flatly.

I realized I’d better quit while I was ahead, and bring it up with Ellen later. I recalled that she’d also mentioned the children’s mother had died. I wondered what had happened to her, and if there might be a discreet way to raise the subject sometime. At the moment, however, I decided on another question.

“What other jobs are there around here?”

They immediately began listing off every occupation they could think of. I learned to my surprise that while most everyone had some sort of garden, most of their food, as well as their clothing, came from animals—cows, sheep, goats, pigs, rabbits, turkeys, chickens, ducks, geese, and quails—and raising animals was apparently considered a full-time job. There were a few normal jobs—doctor, nurse, mechanic—but most were related to the manufacture of some sort of product—carpenter, blacksmith, potter, stonemason, glassblower, leatherworker, and at least three different jobs related to the manufacture of clothing. There was also the butcher, the brewer, the beekeeper, the bookbinder, and people who made paper and ink and soap. Their father and uncle, I learned, were away—they couldn’t say exactly where—getting salt and fish. The list seemed to go on and on, but finally, they came to an end.

“I feel like we’re forgetting someone, though,” James said thoughtfully, finishing off his toast.

They all thought for a moment.

“Is there a leader?” I asked.

There was another moment of silence before Elizabeth shouted out, “Oh! We forgot about the pastor!”

“That’s it!” said James. “I think that’s everyone.”

“He’s not exactly in charge,” David explained, “not the same way as a governor or a president. He can’t make up laws or anything like that. But he is responsible for the church here.”

I wondered exactly what that entailed, but before I could ask any more questions, Sarah announced that the beans were ready. Now that everyone had finished eating, David and Elizabeth cleared the table while James went to the counter and began dicing up the other ingredients, an onion and bacon from the package he had brought in earlier. In a few minutes, he fried them up and added them to the pot, along with a small jar of tomato sauce, a jar of corn, and some peppers.

Before long, the dishes were done and the children began discussing what they would do next.

“I’m making more lights,” David said.

James nodded. “Good idea. I want to see if I can’t split and stack the rest of the wood Jordan dropped off last week.”

“I don’t know,” said Sarah, looking at her sister, “but I was thinking we could surprise Aunt Ellen by doing the laundry.”

I listened in silence, feeling somewhat uneasy as it occurred to me that I didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next or how to make myself useful. I was absently running my fingers through my hair when Sarah suddenly looked at me.

“Oh! Do you want to wash your hair?” she asked. “You could have a bath too, if you like, but we’d need to get more water.”

If I had known how much effort it would take, I might have said no, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get clean after nearly a week of not bathing. And so Sarah went to light a fire in the wash house, while I followed the others out to the well, where they grabbed buckets and started hauling water. As we ran back and forth over and over again, I quickly grew tired and increasingly irritated as their seemingly boundless energy and undaunted cheerfulness began to grate on me. Again I wondered what sort of life this was, and how they ever managed to do anything when such simple tasks took so long. It was more than half an hour before everything was ready.

There was a large wooden tub, and above it, a simple shower, and Sarah gave me a bar of soap, shampoo, and towels. The arrangement was undoubtedly primitive, but nice all the same. The room was quiet and fairly dark, the only light streaming in through some high, narrow windows. I didn’t realize just how tense and sore my muscles were until I sank into the warm water, and then I just sat there for I don’t know how long, until the water started to cool. Then I bathed quickly and washed my hair once, then twice before rinsing off. The shampoo felt strange, and didn’t lather up like normal shampoo, but it seemed to do the job.

When I stepped outside, it was clear that some time had passed as the shadows were starting to grow longer, and though the woods now appeared bright and almost welcoming, they were beginning to feel a little too close for comfort. I guessed it was around two, and wondered how long it would be until Ellen came home. Before I could think much more about it, I saw James coming from the side of the house, looking tired and dirty, but grinning widely.

“Wood’s done!” he announced, stopping by the makeshift sink to wash his hands and face.

I followed him inside, where we found David at the table, pouring a thick liquid into a long, narrow container filled with rushes, Sarah putting wet clothes through some sort of wringer, and Elizabeth mopping the floor.

“Well, I guess we have managed pretty well on our own today,” James said as they finished up what they were doing. “What do you suppose we should do next?”

“We could always get a head start on tomorrow’s lessons,” Sarah suggested, then laughed as the others all made faces. “Alright then, how about a game?”

The others agreed. James and Elizabeth immediately left the room while Sarah and David finished putting their things away.

“Where are they going?” I asked.

“The living room,” said Sarah. “It faces west, so there’s more light in the afternoon.”

I couldn’t see that the kitchen looked any darker now than it had a few hours earlier, but I said nothing as I followed them to the living room, where the others were seated on a rug in front of an open fireplace, looking though the contents of a basket. To my right I saw a large window overlooking the road and a field, in front of which sat a couch and two large chairs around a small table.

“What sort of games do you play?” I asked, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“We have checkers, chess, dominoes, cards,” said James, pointing to different boxes. “There’s also Bible Bee and finish-the-hymn and answer-the-question-as. Or we could read a story.”

“What did you do for fun in the city?” asked Elizabeth, looking up at me.

My mind momentarily went blank as I racked my brain for activities that would appeal to children, figuring the honest answer of scroll the socials and sleep probably wouldn’t cut it. The most exciting thing I could think of was the displays, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to explain that to them yet. Fortunately, I quickly snapped out of it and jumped into tour guide mode.

“There’s lots of fun stuff to do in the city,” I said. “There are shops and restaurants and museums where you can learn about anything you want, and every building has its own gym and a pool where you can go swimming, and just outside the city there’s a nature preserve with a park people can visit to see all the plants and animals.”

“Were there any libraries?” asked Sarah.

“Well, we don’t really have many print books,” I explained. “They take up a lot of space, and they can get lost or damaged. But we have digital libraries you can access using a phone or computer, and you can borrow any book you like, as well as movies and music.”

“Any book?” David asked skeptically.

I hesitated a moment as the conversation from the previous day came back to me, but then I remembered—

“As a matter of fact, we do have Bibles.”—Kept strictly as historical artifacts, but no need to tell them that.—“We even have churches.”

Not that I knew anything about them, but they did exist.

The children looked unconvinced.

“We’ve heard,” said Sarah. “Mr. Walther said they all chose to change with the times, and hardly anyone goes there now, and the ones that do don’t read.”

I was spared from having to answer when out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something moving outside and turned to see a hooded figure coming down the road. David followed my gaze and looked out the window.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “It’s Nan!”

“Who?”

“Our great-grandmother.”

Before I could say anything else, they all ran out into the hall. I rose to follow them but stood frozen where I was, listening as I heard the door open and all of them talking at once, then shuffled forward and looked out to find them gathered around a woman in a long, dark green cloak carrying a covered basket.

She was old, there was no doubt about that. Her gray hair peeked out from a ruffled cap, and she made no effort to hide her wrinkles, but despite her great age, she stood tall and straight and seemed to be in full possession of her faculties, and her light was clear and strong. It struck me, from her manner and the way the children addressed her, that she must be a very important person.

“What’s the matter?” James asked her. “Has something happened?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” she answered, “but I was hoping to speak with your aunt.”

Now David noticed my approach and gave me with a bright smile before turning back to the woman and taking her hand.

“Nan, this is our friend from the city, Miss Bree.” Then turning to me, he said, “This is our great-grandmother, Mrs. Eleanor Hall.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said awkwardly.

“Welcome,” she said. She looked me over with an inscrutable expression which quickly turned to concern. “What are you doing up? Come, sit down, sit down.”

She ushered us into the living room and had us all sit down again before asking, “Have you eaten yet?”

“We made French toast for lunch,” said Sarah, “and there’s chili on the stove for dinner. Would you like some tea?”

“I would, thank you. Tea will go nicely with this apple bread from your Aunt Rachel,” she said as she uncovered her basket.

As Sarah left the room, she turned to me. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice my nervousness.

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but seemed satisfied for the moment.

“Good,” she said with a brisk nod. “You seem to be settling in well.”

I didn’t know what to say, but fortunately she didn’t seem to expect a reply.

“We got our chores and lessons done,” David told her, “and we were just talking about playing a game.”

“Excellent,” she said. “And what have you decided on?”

They began going over their options again. I tried to listen but found myself unable to concentrate any longer, as though a sort of wall had fallen around me, leaving everything outside in a muffled haze. It occurred to me that whatever force was blocking me from connecting was now interfering with basic cognitive functions as well, and I felt almost certain it had something to do with this new visitor.

The haze lifted slightly after a few minutes, when Sarah returned with the tea and the bread was sliced and distributed, and soon they decided on a game that involved building a tower of long wooden blocks, then removing them one by one and placing them on top without causing the whole thing to collapse. It was almost absurdly simple, and I doubted such a game could have held the interest of any child in the city, but it was clearly one of their favorites. In between turns, I found myself continuing to drift in and out of focus, as the conversation generally focused on happenings in the town, and I wondered that they seemed to enjoy each other’s company so much. It was strange—everything was strange, I really did need to find another word to describe things—especially considering I hardly felt comfortable interacting with people my own age half the time. I wondered if this was just how families were here.

Now that things had settled down slightly, I found myself growing bored and wishing I had my phone. I’d barely thought of it in months. The tech had seemed almost laughably obsolete. But now I would have given anything…

Still, it was something of a relief to be able to just sit and watch without having to join in too much. They played for a couple hours, until the sun hovered over the horizon. From time to time, they would glance out the window toward the road. Still, Ellen did not return.

They had just taken a break so Mrs. Hall could start a fire in the hearth and light the lamps, and Sarah could check on the chili and make some fresh tea, when at last we heard the sound of horses. This time James was the first to look out the window.

“It’s Pastor Hansen and Dr. MacDonald,” he said. “What could they want?”

“Oh! You don’t think something’s happened, do you?” Elizabeth asked, looking worriedly from her brother to Mrs. Hall.

“Don’t fret, dear,” said the old woman, patting her hair, “I know what it’s about.”

She stood and went out into the hall, and a minute later we heard her open the door and greet the visitors with, “You can come in, but she isn’t here.”

There were a few more words exchanged that I couldn’t quite catch, and then, “Well, there’s no sense in running out at once. Will you stay a few minutes for some tea?”

The next moment, she returned with two men. The children quickly rose to greet them, and I followed their example a half-second later. I was once more introduced as their friend from the city, though I was almost certain that the introductions were entirely for my sake, as they undoubtedly already knew who I was.

“Well now,” Mrs. Hall said to the children, “it’s almost time for supper. Why don’t you all go on and set the table, and we’ll be along shortly.”

They nodded and ran off, and Mrs. Hall invited the three of us to sit down and talk a while.

“So,” began the doctor, once the tea was poured, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” I repeated, trying to smile as I kept my eyes fixed on the cup in my hands, grateful for the fact that we weren’t sitting directly across from each other as the combined light of him, the pastor, and Mrs. Hall was now nearly blinding, as they sat facing the window, fully illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. I felt a migraine coming on.

It must have shown, because he refused to drop the subject. He asked a few more questions about how I’d been sleeping and what I had eaten before coming to the question I’d been dreading for the past two days.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I–I remember—I don’t know,” I stammered. Fortunately, I was holding it together, but just barely, and mentally kicking myself for not having an answer prepared, and wondering exactly how much they already knew.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, then a moment of silence before the pastor spoke.

“We understand this is difficult for you to talk about,” he said in a low voice, “and you don’t have to tell us if you’d rather not. But you should know that you’re not alone here.”

Before he could say another word, I jumped as I heard a sound outside, and the next moment we heard the door open and Ellen call, “I’m home.”

I thought there was something unusual in her tone. The others seemed to notice too, as the doctor and pastor looked at each other and Mrs. Hall was up faster than I would have thought possible for someone of her age.

“What is it? Is Anna—?”

There was something like a gasp, followed by a long pause, and then—

“Anna is fine. She had a healthy baby girl a little after one. But I’m afraid we’ve had quite an eventful afternoon.”

Ellen came in looking more upset than I would have thought possible for one of them, though upon seeing us all gathered, she seemed to collect herself a little. It was somewhat alarming to see her so unsettled, and now the rest of them as well, but almost comforting in a way, to have proof that they were only human. Even so, their lights continued to shine as brightly as ever, not dimmed in the slightest by this new disturbance. I most definitely had a migraine now, and took the opportunity to quietly excuse myself from the room.

“Well now, what’s happened?” I heard the pastor ask.

“Julia Thompson.”

“It seems that Mrs. Thompson has been rather busy lately,” Mrs. Hall said dryly. “What exactly did she do now?”

I didn’t hear any more as I practically stumbled into the hall, now half-deaf and almost completely blind, and feeling like I would be sick. I just barely made it back to my room before collapsing onto the floor and curling up in a ball, willing my hands to stop shaking and my breathing to return to normal.

I don’t know how long I stayed there. I might have even passed out. Then suddenly, it was over. The attack seemed to pass just as quickly as it had come on. The nausea subsided, my hearing and vision returned, and I found myself standing, once more, just outside the living room, where everyone, including the children, now gathered.

“I have a question,” I heard Elizabeth say.

“Yes, what is it?” Ellen asked.

“Has Aunt Julia gone mad?” she asked seriously.

I risked a peek into the room and saw that for a moment, Ellen almost looked as if she might laugh. There was a long pause before she finally asked, “What makes you think that?”

“Well—I mean—I don’t know—”

She looked helplessly to her sister, who sighed and spoke up.

“It’s because yesterday at the quilting party, she was saying things that sounded just crazy. I mean, we all know what she’s like,” she glanced to her siblings, who all nodded in solemn agreement, “but whenever we were near her, she started going on and on about a stolen ring, and jewels, and how you and Father…”

The adults all exchanged glances. Ellen seemed to grow a bit pale, while Mrs. Hall turned quite red.

“There aren’t really any jewels, are there?” Elizabeth asked.

“As a matter of fact, there are,” Ellen said, her voice somewhat strained. “Some family heirlooms that had been in your aunt’s family since before the town was even established, some of which, by all rights, should have gone to your cousin when she comes of age. But you remember your uncle had that accident a few years back that left him unable to work all summer, and since your aunt was too proud to accept charity, as she called it, she insisted on selling them for food. Needless to say, your uncle was not pleased when he found out, but he felt better once your father told him we had them and would keep them for your cousin. As for the ring—”

Her voice faltered, and she looked to Mrs. Hall.

“Don’t even think of giving it to her,” she exclaimed vehemently. “She has no right—”

“I know, I know, but…oh, I am tired.”

Now the pastor spoke, his voice low and even. “Mrs. Hall is right. The ring is yours by right and by law, there’s no question of that. And even if there was, she would be the last person with a claim to it. But now,” he looked to the girls, “public slander is a very serious charge. Do you know if anyone else heard Mrs. Thompsons’ accusations?”

“I’m sure everyone did,” Sarah said. “She was hardly trying to keep her voice down. And Maggie Shaw said to her face that it was an awful shame to speak such nonsense, and she didn’t believe a word of it. You can ask Mrs. Hansen about it, or Cecily, or Joanna. They all heard her.”

The pastor nodded. “I’ll do that.” Then, to Ellen, “I have to apologize. I see I’ve been quite negligent in my duties. I might have guessed something like this would happen—”

“You’re hardly the only one,” the doctor interjected.

“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Hall. “No doubt we’ve all let far too much go for far too long, and it’s high time something was done about it.”

With that, it seemed a decision had been made, and in short time, the pastor, the doctor, and Mrs. Hall had taken their leave and gone out into the night. Ellen once again told the children to run along to the kitchen and that she would be along in a minute. For some time she simply stood in the hall, her eyes closed, an unreadable expression on her face. When she finally looked up, she seemed to have regained some of her old energy.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm alright," I lied.

"Good," she said briskly. "We've had a long summer, but they say the first frost will be here any day now. There are a few times in the year when we need all hands on deck, and this is one of them."

I found out what she meant the next morning, when I was awoken before sunrise by a loud knocking at my door. Ellen entered without waiting for a response and threw a jacket and gloves onto my bed.

"Get dressed quickly and put these on. We're heading out to the west field."

The field was about a fifteen minute walk away, and I learned we would be spending the morning picking fruit.

"It's late enough in the season that a good deal of it has been brought in already, but we can't afford to let anything go to waste," Ellen explained.

A handful of others were already there. A few acknowledged our arrival, but fortunately no one seemed to want to talk much. The one exception seemed to be when the pastor and his family arrived a few minutes after us, and he greeted everyone with a shout of, "This is the day that the Lord has made!"

And everyone responded in unison, "Let us rejoice and be glad in it!"

"The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof!"

"The world, and they that dwell therein!"

I grabbed a basket and a ladder and moved to the very edge of the field, where hardly anyone else was yet.

A couple hours later, I had filled what seemed like dozens of baskets full of apples, pears, peaches, and nectarines, as well as some odd bumpy red berries I couldn't identify, and still the empty baskets kept coming. By now the field was filled with workers, and every single one, as far as I could tell, had the same unearthly glow about them. I stayed on the very outskirts of the field and kept my back to them as much as I could, and when I had finally gathered all the fruit there was, I slipped behind a large tree and simply waited until it was time to leave.

As the trees grew bare, the others also slowed down a bit, taking longer breaks and talking more. One group in particular was walking about and stopped directly in front of my hiding spot.

"Has anyone seen Mrs. Thompson?" I heard one woman ask.

"I don't expect we'll be seeing much of her anymore," said another.

"Did you hear there's going to be a trial?" exclaimed a third.

"Yes, though I can't see much point in that. We all know what happened."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it!"

"All the same, these things must be done properly. Matthew 18 and all that."

"I don't expect she will change, though."

"Can't say I do either. But we can hope."

"And pray."

Listening to them talk, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, whoever she was, and thinking they were taking things a bit far, over what likely as not had been only a few careless words.

The signal to leave finally came a little before noon. The rest of the day and most of the next were spent in cleaning, sorting, peeling, dicing, cooking, baking, drying, and canning. No more was said of Mrs. Thompson, but a good deal was said about Mr. Campbell's prognostications for the coming winter, the state of the Longs' herds compared to the Johnsons', and whether we'd need to buy more blankets. Finally, on Saturday evening, the temperature dropped, and we looked out to see frost covering the window panes. Winter had arrived.

***

Sunday morning, I woke to an empty house. It was strange. The night before, I had excused myself from their nightly gathering as usual, but as I lay alone in the darkness, I toyed with the idea of joining them for church after all. My mind kept going back to James’ invitation, followed by his sudden change of mind. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed and the more my curiosity grew, until I was nearly ready to go out and tell them that I would be there, whether they wanted me or not. All the same, it was something a relief to find that the decision had been take out of my hands, and I now resolved to make the most of my time alone.

It didn’t take long to realize, however, that this would not be the nice, relaxing break I’d been hoping for. After a week of busyness and chatter, the silence felt unnerving. I continued to feel as though I was being watched, found myself jumping at the slightest noise, and nearly screamed when I opened the door and felt the cat slip in past my feet.

I found breakfast—an omelet, pickles, and something like hash browns—waiting on the table, ate quickly and washed up as well as I could, and was just looking at the books in the living room when I was startled by a knock at the door. I froze and instinctively ducked behind the couch as the thought of meeting any more people, especially alone, set my heart racing. There followed a long enough silence that I began to hope I might have just been imagining things again, when suddenly there came another knock. I took a couple of deep breaths and finally forced myself to peek outside the window, and in an instant, any apprehension I had felt evaporated, leaving only the most profound confusion.

There was a woman, early thirties, blonde, average height, utterly normal except for how completely out of place she looked here. In the first place, she was wearing pants. That alone seemed so striking that it took a moment to register that I could look at her without wincing.

She caught my eye and waved nervously. I waved back, then hurried to let her in.

“So, you must be our latest guest,” she said warmly, offering me her hand. “Julia Thompson.”

“Bree. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

And it was. Though I might have hoped she was someone from the city come to track me down, the knowledge that the were normal people around here after all was a relief beyond words. And the fact that she was now at the center of the town's gossip made perfect sense.

“Well,” she began, “I suppose you’ve heard all about the little incident a few days ago.”

“I…did hear something about a ring.”

She grimaced. “It was all just a terrible misunderstanding, but I do feel bad about it. I was just coming over to see Ellen and apologize for the whole thing, but”—she peered past me with a look of mild disappointment—“I guess she’s not at home?”

I shook my head. “But, as long as you’re here, would you like to come inside?”

I realized as I said it that it might not have been proper to invite guests into someone else’s home, but I was aching for some company. Maybe she was too, because she smiled brightly and followed me into the kitchen.

It was fortunate there was still a small fire in the stove, and the kettle was still hot. I found some cups and the tea without trouble and laid a few things out on the table. For a moment we simply sat in silence.

“So, how are you finding the place?” she said at last.

“It’s…certainly been interesting,” I offered diplomatically.

She laughed. “That’s one way to put it. Nothing like the city, I’m sure.”

“No.”

She laughed again. “Imagine coming from the city and waking up at the Halls’. I heard they don’t even have water these days. I think I would just die of shock.”

I stared.

“You mean…it’s not all…”—I waved a hand around vaguely—“like this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, like I said, it’s absolutely nothing to the city, but we are somewhat civilized. I told my husband before we got married, I refused to live in a house where I had to draw water, and he made sure we had a working pump and decent plumbing. But some people just prefer to live in the past.”

“I guess so.”

I couldn’t help staring at her clothes. Upon closer inspection, they might have been handmade, but they looked a good deal more normal than what I was wearing.

“It’s not a religious thing, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, eyeing my long gray skirt, “though some people might like to say it is. The truth is, back when the town was founded, they only had one seamstress, and I guess it must have gotten to be too much for her, because one day she pitched a fit and declared that if people wanted pants, they could make them themselves. She finally relented a bit for the men, but the ladies just had to make do until a new seamstress came along. These days, well—”

She took a sip of tea.

“Well, you know how small towns are.”

I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.

“People will look for any excuse to gossip, and eventually you decide, well, if I’m never going to fit in, I might as well give them something to talk about.”

The visit lasted about half an hour longer before she finally looked out and announced that she would have to run along and catch Ellen some other time.

I saw Ellen and the children coming down the road ten minutes later, and with them was a younger woman dressed all in black. I cleared away what remained of the tea and decided I would tell them about my visitor another time.

I heard the door open, and the next minute, Ellen popped her head into the kitchen and whispered, "Bree? Someone here to see you."

I followed her into the hall and came face to face with the woman in black. I felt her staring at me. I kept my eyes fixed on her dress until my eyes could adjust a little to the light. There was a long moment before she spoke.

“Bree? Sam told me it was you, but I couldn’t believe it.”

Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. As I met her eyes, it was all I could do not to scream. It was Jess.

[part 6]

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: admonish #story: incomplete #and late as usual #i'll try to post part 6* tomorrow #*not a typo - there's going to be about a 2 week time jump #will probably go back and write part 5 eventually but at this rate it could be another couple years

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