Redemption of Eva

Archives for August 2025

The Unraveling

by

    Now I saw in my dream that years passed.  Seeker took to the foreman’s post and excelled.  Beautiful found odd jobs about the village, yet her loneliness never lifted.  Bright learned to walk; his speech came slow—then all at once, shaping sentences far beyond his years.

    The little house soon felt cramped, so Seeker bought a plot above the ravine, and they raised a new cottage—one room set aside for Bright, and even a small study for himself.

***

    Seeker tapped his pipe against his boot and ash whisked off on the breeze.  He studied the sky—thin clouds coming in fast.  They’d have to chase the weather, but he figured they could finish by dusk.  Men drifted in by twos and threes—two sowing teams, one to harrow behind, and a knot of boys to refill seed bags and clap the crows from the furrows.  Whenever a hand was short, he stepped in—slung a seed bag, took a harrow line, set the pace.  Foreman or not, he worked shoulder to shoulder, and the men answered to that.

    When he looked up, Charm stood at the edge of a furrow—riding skirt hitched clear of the dirt, and an ivory linen blouse soft at the neck with a small keyhole tied by two ribbons and tucked into a narrow leather belt.  Her sleeves were rolled to her forearms.  A single braid lay over one shoulder.  A straw hat shaded her eyes, the ribbon knotted under her chin.

    “They say you work with your men,” she said.  “I came to see it—and to help.”  Her eyes held his.  On her tongue, work slid toward play.

    Seeker frowned.  “Charm, it’s hard work.”  He checked the sky.  “We have to move fast.”

    She smiled, unbothered.  “Try me.”

    One man didn’t show.  Seeker shouldered a seed bag and took the slot.  When a second never came, he glanced at Charm and exhaled.  “Alright.”  She met it with a quiet, satisfied smirk.

    The first team was already moving.  They’d take the next field.  Seeker slung a seed bag across his chest.  A boy trotted after with the spare sacks.  Leapfrog the fields—that was the plan.  Had been anyway.  But he doubted they’d keep up.

    He showed her the sweep.  She copied it and only shrugged.  He passed her the canvas seed bag, and she slung it crosswise as if it weighed nothing.

    She walked the furrow, seed bag tapping her hip.  Hand in, scatter.  The grain fanned clean and even, her arms falling into a steady rhythm.  When the wind shifted, she angled a step into it and kept the fan true—as if she’d done this all her life.

    Seeker followed with the ox, the brushwood harrow rasping the soil and folding it back over the seed.  Behind them the boy snapped his clappers, sharp cracks keeping the crows at bay.

    Row by row she went, pace steady.  He and the ox kept to her line.  When the seed bag ran light, the boy slipped her a fresh one and she never broke stride.  She was as good as any of his men—better, maybe.  No complaining about a chafing strap, no shifting to rest a sore foot, not even a pause to catch her breath.

    They finished the last furrow and walked back to the crew.  A light shower swept the fields, and the men grinned.  Charm stood poised among them—cheeks flushed, but not a bead of sweat—the clove still in the air despite a full day in the fields.

    “Great job, everyone,” Seeker said.  “Take tomorrow off.”

    The men tipped their hats, broke into cheers.  Charm met his eyes, gave a small, satisfied nod.

***

    “Daddy, do you know what, Daddy?” Bright blurted as Seeker stepped in.

   “What, Bright?”

    “Daddy, did you know that chimpanzees eat fruit?  Have you ever seen a chimpanzee?”

    From the other room, Beautiful called, “Boots outside!  Don’t drag mud through the house.”  She stepped into the doorway. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

    He stopped short, staring at her.  Her hair was cut—just to her shoulders.

    “You hate it.”  Her face fell.  

    Seeker sighed.  “I don’t hate it, Beautiful.”

    “Yeah, but you don’t like it, either.”

    “I like it.  I really do.”

    “You’re a horrible liar, Seeker,” she said with a pout.

    He shrugged.  “I can’t lie, Beautiful.  I miss your long curls.”

    Lightning flashed in her eyes.  “You have no idea how hard that was to manage.  Stop trying to control me.”

    He reached for her.  She scoffed, pulled away, and left the room.

***

    Harvest time came, and Seeker’s crew gathered—men testing scythe edges, women twisting straw into bands.

    Charm arrived again—cream shirt rolled to the elbows, earth-brown trousers, and a narrow belt with a knife at her hip.  The men stared and the women glared.

    When the dew lifted, the first mower laid a trial swath.  The line fell into rhythm—mowers swept the lanes, rakers pulled the stems into neat windrows, and binders followed tying the sheaves tight.

    Whetstones sang—tink, tink.  Charm clapped time for the mowers and whistled the binders on.  “Twelve to a chapel!”

    At midday they stopped to hammer the blades and whet them afresh.  They sat in the carts’ shade with bread and cheese and watered ale, and one of the men struck up a song.

    By midafternoon, chaff was everywhere, and the heat was heavy.  Charm sang out, “Straightest row wins an orange!  First to three chapels takes a ribbon!”

–

    Toward dusk, the final shock was set, and his crew shouldered their tools for home.  Seeker wandered to the top of the ravine stairs and drew his pipe from his satchel.

    He packed the bowl, struck flint, and drew.  Smoke drifted into the dusk.  Charm came and sat beside him without a word.  They let the quiet stretch while he smoked.  At last, she spoke.

    “What is it you want from life, Seeker?”

    He snorted.  “What kind of question is that?  Same as any man.  A family.  I have that.”

    She eyed him, amusement flickering.  “You’re not a very convincing liar, Seeker.”

    “And how would you know what I want?”

    “You want love.  And Beautiful doesn’t love you, Seeker.”

   Seeker’s jaw went slack.

   “Oh, Seeker,” she said.  “You poor blind fool.  Everyone sees it—except you.  It’s been five years.  And she’s never been happy.”

    He searched her eyes for mockery, any edge of contempt.  There was none—only a soft pity that made him ache.

    “But Bright…” he began.

    “Yes—Bright,” she said.  “Think of him.  Is it good for a gentle boy to watch his mother sad day after day?  He’s old enough to understand.”

    “I love her.”

    “I know you do—everyone does.  But think about Beautiful.  She’ll be happier in Bright-Harbor.”

    They sat a while.  He tapped out the ash and packed the bowl again.

    “This Saturday marks seven years you’ve served my father.”

    He gave a small nod.

    “He’s throwing a celebration—for you.”  Then softer.  “For us.”

    The words landed heavy.  Seeker couldn’t breathe.

     “Let her go, Seeker.”

    “I can’t.”

    “I know.” Her voice stayed soft.  “It’ll be hard.  She’ll cry.  But she’ll be happier.”

    Seeker stared past the sky—at nothing. 

   “And we will be too,” she murmured.  “You belong here.  With me.”

Life in Delight

by

    Charm introduced Seeker to the new hands—men to load and unload the carts and work the tread-wheel.  He’d train them to plant and reap, and to cut wood in winter.  But his burden didn’t lighten.  If anything, it grew—longer hours keeping everything running smoothly, most nights he reached home long after sunset.

    Sometimes, once Bright was asleep, Beautiful wept—quietly so the baby wouldn’t hear.  Other nights she disappeared into her books—adventure and romance.  Seeker had his own—thick, serious ones—and he read late into the night until Beautiful padded out, bleary, to beg him to come to bed.  He’d nod… then keep reading.

    Bright was growing fast.  Already he could sit up and bat at the little toys they’d bought him.  Seeker’s heart ached to be gone so much—to miss it while it was happening.

    Charm came by once a week with his wages—same as Comfort had.  When Beautiful asked, “How much did they raise you?” he blinked.  He hadn’t even given that any consideration when talking with Jabal.  They had, indeed, increased, but they still never seemed to have anything left over.

    Now and then Charm came by with instructions from Jabal.  He was grateful it wasn’t often.  After she’d gone, a clove-orange trace hung in the air, and he’d catch himself thinking of her green eyes.  There was a spark about her—the very brightness he missed in Beautiful.  No.  He shut the thought down.  He had a wife.  A son.  He wouldn’t entertain it.

***

    Beautiful lay on the ugly couch watching Seeker play with Bright.  She was bored—and tired anyway.

    She watched Seeker sit on the floor with Bright.  He touched a fingertip to Bright’s lower lip.  “Stick out your tongue.”  Bright stuck his little tongue out.  “Eeeek!” Seeker squeaked, tapping it—and Bright burst into delighted giggles.

    She had the sweetest baby—he never cried without a reason.  She’d thought Bright would ease the loneliness, but somehow it only deepened.  The people here were cruel—not just to her, but to Bright as well.  She’d hitch him onto her hip and make the rounds of the village, and still there were no true friends for either of them.  At the Cottage, they would have cooed over him.  In Bright-Harbor, everyone smiled.

    She’d tried to bring it up, once or twice, but Seeker had no patience for her tears.  She’d married him because he understood her.  Now he just looked tired—and angry.

    Seeker took Bright’s foot.  “This little piggy…” He wiggled the big toe.  Bright went perfectly still, holding his breath.  At the last toe—“wee, wee, wee… all the way home”—he burst into laughter.

    But he was timid and sensitive like her and frightened easily.  When Seeker stretched and yawned, Bright’s lower lip trembled and he began to cry.

    Beautiful scooped Bright up, pressed him to her chest, and patted his back.  “There now, Bright,” she said.  “Don’t be afraid.  Daddy’s just yawning—like the bear in your book.”  Bright calmed the moment his ear found her heartbeat, his fist uncurling against her collarbone.

    Bright wiggled in Beautiful’s arms.  Seeker took him, kissed his head, then set him down.  “Daddy has to work now.  Play with Mama.  I’ll be back soon.”

    He kissed Beautiful’s forehead, shrugged into his coat, shouldered his axe—then looked back once, and smiled at the two of them.

    When the door shut, the little house felt suddenly too big.  The fire ticked, and the wind fussed at the shutters.

***

    “I’m home,” Seeker called, shouldering the door shut.  He set the axe by the jamb, kicked off his boots, picked his way through toys and books strewn across the floor, and sagged onto the couch, spent.

    Bright perched on Beautiful’s lap while she read aloud—“Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?”  She really was a wonderful mother.  Some days it felt like she’d already read him a thousand books.

    As she turned the last page, Bright’s head dipped.  Seeker rose, picked him up, and carried him into the bedroom.  He laid him in the crib and nestled his small blue stuffed donkey under his arm.

    “Oh, Seeker,” Beautiful said as he stepped back into the room.  “This place is dreadful.”  A tear slipped down her cheek.

    He let out a long breath.  “What now, Beautiful?”

   She rolled her eyes, sing-songing, “We should bring the little ones together one afternoon.”

    “What happened?”

    “They’re just empty words.  I took Bright to Dedicated’s house today, and she said she was busy.”

    “Maybe she was?”

   “She stood in the doorway and left me on the step.  ‘Sorry, Beautiful, I’m busy today.’  I felt humiliated—her blocking the door, me outside.”

    Seeker took her hand.  “That’s terrible.”

    “That’s not even the worst part.”

    “Oh?”

    “She might as well have said, ‘I’m too busy for you.’”

    “Why’s that?”

    Beautiful sighed.  “Inconsiderate was there.  I could hear their babies playing together.  It’s just—me and Bright aren’t good enough.  

    He started to answer, but she went on.  “And she stood there pretending I couldn’t hear.  ‘I’m just too busy.’”

   He had no words.  He pulled her into his arms and let her cry.

    “It’ll get better, baby,” he said.  He wished he believed it.

Clove and Orange

by

    Beautiful lay motionless in bed.  To Seeker, it was as if the life had drained out of her—her skin pale, the spark in her eyes gone.  

    When Bright cried at night, she tried to feed him, but he turned away.  So, Seeker pressed a little milk into a bowl and fed it to Bright with a tiny spoon.  By the time the child finished, and sleep finally tugged at him, Bright stirred again, hungry.  Seeker couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than an hour at once.

    Seeker’s mother came for a week, helping where she could, but soon had to return to the City of Destruction.  Not long after, Thoughtful stopped on his way to Vanity, pausing just long enough to meet his new nephew.

   “Beautiful, baby,” Seeker urged softly.  “Try to get up, walk a little—but slow.”  He bent over Bright, stroking his head, “Take care of Mama for me, little one.  I have to go back to work—for both of you.”

***

    Seeker yawned, rubbing his eyes as he crossed the bridge to the mill.  He’d never known exhaustion like this—two weeks without real sleep.  He dreaded what would be waiting for him, all the work that must have piled up.

    When he reached the mill, she was waiting at the door—a young woman he hadn’t seen before.  Sun-browned, raven hair falling in loose waves down her back.  A dress that hugged her waist, her shoulders bare.  The air around her held clove and orange, pomander-sweet.  Seeker blinked.  Her emerald eyes met his without a flicker.

    “Good morning, Seeker,” she said, voice soft as dawn.  “Come with me.”

    Seeker blinked.  She was already moving, hips swaying with an effortless grace.  “I’m Comfort’s sister,” she called back.  “Jabal would like to speak to you.”

    By the time they reached Jabal’s office, she didn’t bother to knock.  She pushed the door open and swept in, Seeker trailing her.  “Seeker’s here, like you asked, Dad.”  She curtsied low and smiled sweetly—but didn’t leave.  Instead, she glided to the couch, sat, hands folded neatly in her lap, and watched them with glittering eyes.

    “Ah, yes.  Seeker.”  His gaze weighed him.  He crossed the room, settled beside his daughter and gestured to the empty armchair.  “Sit.”

    “Cigar?” he said, flipping open a silver case.

    Seeker lifted a hand, “No, thank you.”

    Jabal snipped the cap with a little cutter, struck a match, toasted the end, took two small draws, and let a thin ribbon of smoke curl upward.

    “Tell me, Seeker—how many years have you served me?”  It wasn’t really a question.  “Comfort says you’re my best worker.  And what did I promise?  In Desire, those who work hard—”

    “Delight,” his daughter corrected, smooth as silk.

   “—are handsomely rewarded,” Jabal continued unfazed.

    “Yes,” said Seeker, “I have everything I’ve dreamed of.”

    “Your talents are wasted here.  You have initiative.  Drive.  I don’t need that on the tread-wheel.”

    Seeker only nodded, unsure what to say.

    “From this day, you’re foreman.  Charm will assist you.”

    Charm gave Seeker a gracious smile, “I’m here for you—for anything you need.”

    “Tomorrow, then,” Jabal said.

    Foreman?   No more tread-wheel?  Seeker straightened in his chair, then stood.  He could hardly believe it—he couldn’t wait to tell Beautiful.

    At the threshold, the fragrance of clove still hung in the air.

The Birth of Bright

by

    The next morning, Beautiful doubled over suddenly, heaving. Seeker knelt beside her, one hand steadying her back, the other pressed gently against her belly.

    “Oh, Seeker,” she wept, her voice breaking. “My stomach hurts so much. How will I ever survive the next six months?”

–

    The months slipped by, her belly swelling as the days dragged. To Seeker, she never looked more endearing—adorably waddling through their little home, one hand pressed to the small of her back. But for Beautiful, the sickness never eased. Food turned her stomach, and nausea clung to her every hour. Comfort visited often with sweet citrus drinks that soothed for a little while, though never for long.

–

    Spring gave way to early summer. One night, as Seeker read by candlelight, a sharp gasp split the quiet.

    “Seeker!” Beautiful’s voice trembled.

    He rushed to the bedroom. She stood beside the bed, her bare feet in a spreading puddle of water.

    “Go get Comfort,” she whispered, breath uneven. “The baby’s coming tonight.”

    Seeker guided her onto the bed, pressed a quick kiss to her damp forehead, and whispered, “Hold on, Beautiful.  I’ll be right back.”

    He yanked on his boots and hurried through the sleeping village to Comfort’s door.  He pounded hard. “Comfort—Beautiful needs you.”

    After several tense minutes, Comfort stepped out with a small bag in hand.  Delight had no midwife, but she had delivered half the children born there.

    “Go back to Beautiful,” she said briskly.  “I’ll fetch my helper.”

    When Comfort arrived, she looked Beautiful over and told Seeker, “It’s not time yet.  Stay with her for now—until the pains grow strong and close.”

    Seeker knelt at her side; her hand clutched in his.  Hours crawled past.  Tears streamed down Beautiful’s face, but not once did she speak an unkind word.

    The first light of dawn seeped through the shutters when her labor truly began.  She muttered incoherently, then cried out in pain.  Comfort entered, firm but gentle.

    “Go wait outside, Seeker. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

    Seeker paced the floor, back and forth, back and forth.  The hours dragged, each one heavier than the last.  The sun sank, night fell, and still Beautiful labored behind the closed door.  Then came silence.  A terrible silence.  His chest clenched tight.  Had he lost them both?  He bit back tears and whispered a prayer: “Please keep my Beautiful safe.”

    Then—breaking the stillness—a cry.  Soft.  Steady.  A baby’s cry.

    The young helper appeared in the doorway.  “Your wife is fine,” she said quickly, before hurrying off for hot water and towels.

    At last, Comfort stepped into the doorway, a bundle of linen in her arms.  Seeker’s breath caught—the baby’s face was calm, one eye half-closed, and he was the very image of Beautiful.

    A flood of emotion surged through Seeker—stronger than anything he had ever known. Love. As strong as what he felt for Beautiful, yet different. Pure. Unconditional. Today was the best day of his life.

    Comfort laid the child gently in his arms. Seeker cradled him close, nestling his head in the crook of his elbow, then carried him into the bedroom.

    Beautiful lay pale and exhausted on the bed, eyes closed.  She didn’t stir.

    Seeker bent over his son and sang softly:

Bright—

A ray of sunlight in a wildwood chapel,

Fair as your mother,

Beloved of your father,

Let your light always shine—

Tender-hearted, pure

    His voice broke on the final word. He turned to Beautiful, the bundle warm in his arms.

    “Beautiful,” he whispered, “here’s our son. Bright.”

    “I don’t want him,” Beautiful murmured, her voice flat with weariness.

    Seeker didn’t argue.  He simply placed Bright in her arms.

    Her eyes fluttered open. “Bright,” she whispered, her gaze soft. She kissed his cheek. “Mama loves you, Bright.”  Then she drew him close, cradling him against her chest.

Beautiful — Chapter 4

by

  Two and a half years—they’d done it.  But Beautiful knew there was still so much left.  Running away together might be good enough for Seeker.  But marriage involved more than just a man and a woman.

    Seeker was busy with the house.  Her dad spent nights on the water, her mom in the fields and marketplace.  That left Beautiful to manage the wedding preparations alone.  All of Bright-Harbor was coming—those who could walk would walk, and the rest would ride in carts.  She had gone into the city to arrange it all.  The drivers promised an early start at daybreak and arrival before noon, in time for the vows.  Afterward there would be food, and the carts would carry everyone home.

    She walked to the Cottage alone—Seeker had offered to come for her, to walk back together, but she refused.  Still, the thought of sleeping on the road by herself quickened her steps.  Her legs ached, yet she pressed on.  Not when her Deliverer was far away in Delight, unable to come if she cried out.

   “I’ll make sure no one goes hungry, Beautiful,” said Miss Cheerful, handing her a list.  “Here’s what I’ll need.”

    Kind and his family had returned to the Delectable Mountains, and Stern had come back.  He gladly agreed to perform the ceremony.  “I’ll even prepare a special sermon just for the two of you.”

    She slept in her old bed in the Cottage and set out at dawn.  She pushed straight through to Bright-Harbor without stopping to eat.  Whenever her legs threatened to give out, she paused for a moment.  She was dizzy by the time she reached home.

    The next morning, she ached all over, but there was still so much to do.  On the outskirts of Vain-Delights she found a small shop that handled weddings.  They would arrive a day early to set up the benches in the pasture.  There would be an arch woven with flowers, more bouquets set around, and candles.  They even had an artist who would paint the ceremony.  She handed over Miss Cheerful’s list, and they promised to bring those as well.

   Altogether—the carts, the food, the decorations—it cost just over two gold.  She’d still have enough left for furniture in their new home.

    Next came Seeker’s parents.  They would travel with her the day before and stay at the Cottage.  “You two shouldn’t let anyone know you’re…” her voice trailed off.  One room for the both of them.  Seeker’s dad didn’t seem to mind, but his mom flatly refused.  Why was she so stubborn?  But Beautiful wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

***

    Seeker stopped short when he reached the pasture.  Men hurried past with benches, setting them in neat rows.  In the middle of it all stood Beautiful, pointing, directing.  “Those flowers go over there.”

    She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then hurried on without stopping.  “Yes, that table—right there, in the front.  And the candles go on it.”  She strode over and shifted them herself.  The big one in the center, tall ones on either side.

    Seeker’s parents waited by the flowered arch behind the row of benches.  He went to them—shaking his dad’s hand, then pulling his mom into a hug.

    “You wouldn’t believe—” His mom broke off as Beautiful walked up.

    Beautiful’s eyes looked tired, though she tried to cover it with a smile.  “Seeker, honey,” she said sweetly, but the strain edged her voice.  “Once everything’s set up, let’s have supper with your mom and dad, then take them to the waterfalls.”

    “Beautiful,” he said, “Relax.  You’re doing too much.”

    “No.  Great-Saint said we have to show them around.”

   “I don’t care what Great-Saint said,” Seeker snapped.  “This is your day.  Our day.”

    Beautiful’s face took on that stubborn look he knew so well.  He knew he wouldn’t win this argument.

    “We could just go back to our room,” his dad said, the words a little too eager.

    Seeker’s mom glowered—first at his dad, then at Beautiful.  Something sharp and unspoken passed between the two women.

    The sun was down, the sky already dark by the time they returned.  It was late—very late—but Miss Cheerful had left a candle burning for them.  Seeker and Beautiful bade his parents goodnight, then slipped away together to her room.

    “I’m hungry,” she murmured. 

    A gentle knock came at the door.  As if she’d known, Miss Cheerful entered with a bowl of soup and two spoons.

    Seeker and Beautiful sat cross-legged on the bed, eating in silence.  Then they curled into each other’s arms and drifted into dreamless sleep.

***

    After breakfast, Beautiful laid out Seeker’s clothes on the bed.  She gave him a look.  “You didn’t think you were going to wear the same clothes you’ve been milling in, did you?”

    Miss Cheerful bustled in.  “Shoo, shoo!  Off to the pasture with you.  Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”  She started to say “Fill some water—” but stopped short, giving his clothes an approving nod.  “Never mind.  Just bring your parents along.”

    Beautiful lifted the brass mirror from the side table.  Her face was puffy, with dark circles beneath her eyes.  Every part of her ached.  All she wanted was to crawl back into bed and sleep.

    Miss Cheerful took her hand and led her to the washroom.  She filled the tub herself, drawing water from the barrels and kettle, then spooned in some of the rosemary-scented mixture from a crock.  When Beautiful eased into the warmth, Miss Cheerful dipped a linen cloth into the suds and rubbed her back.  “Now, now,” she murmured, “you’ll be the most beautiful bride ever, Beautiful.”

    After Beautiful dried herself, Miss Cheerful brushed out her hair, the strokes slow and steady, then gathered it up and pinned the veil in place.  She helped button the back of the dress, fingers quick and sure.  “Now rest, dear,” she said gently.  “Don’t wear yourself out.”

    When the carts arrived just before noon, the villagers poured into the Cottage.  They went straight for the food Miss Cheerful had prepared.

    “That’s for after the wedding!” she cried, but no one listened.  “At least save some for the bride and groom,” she pleaded.

    When the food was gone, the villagers clambered back into the carts bound for the pasture.  Beautiful set out on foot, walking beside her mom and dad.

***

    The sun shone warm, and clouds drifted slow, casting soft shadows across the pasture.  A lamb bleated, and a sparrow’s song seemed to say, The winter is past, and spring has come.  The lilies by the table filled the air with fragrance.

    Stern stood at the front with his Book in his hand.  Steadfast and Gracious had come, their children gathered close.  Great-Saint was there with his wife, and Beautiful’s other brother, Practical, with his.  Beautiful’s sisters—Considerate, Lively, and Tender-Hearted—stood with their husbands, filling the rows with familiar faces.

    Seeker wished Kind and Liora could be there—and Thoughtful, too.  His mom and dad sat in the front row on one side.  Across the aisle, a shepherd escorted Beautiful’s mom to her seat in the other.

    A hush fell over the crowd as Beautiful stepped through the arch on her father’s arm.  Sunlight caught the white of her dress, tracing the lace, her shoulders, the line of her neck.  The world spun, and time slowed as she came toward him.  Her father met Seeker’s eyes, gave a single nod, and set her hand in his—then went to sit beside her mom.

    Beautiful smiled at him, but her eyes were dull.  She lifted a hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn.  They stood before Stern as he spoke, but Seeker didn’t hear a word—his thoughts were only on her.  As Stern spoke at length, the people shifted on the benches, a low rustle of whispers rising.

    When Stern finally finished, they turned to each other, hands joined.  Seeker trembled as he spoke, but Beautiful’s vows came steady and sure.

    Seeker and Beautiful each took a tall candle from the table.  Together they lit the larger one in the center—then with a single breath, blew out their own.

    “Now,” Stern declared with a smile, “you may kiss the bride.”

    Seeker lifted her chin and kissed her lips gently.  The crowd cheered, and together they walked down the aisle, hand-in-hand.

***

    At last, the crowd was gone, and together they made their way back to the Cottage.  They’d shaken hands and smiled until every cart rolled away with the villagers bound for Bright-Harbor.  Beautiful clung to his hand as they walked, but she said little.

    Miss Cheerful offered to prepare them a meal, but Beautiful only shook her head and declined softly.

    They went up to her room—their room—and closed the door behind them.  “Seeker, can you undo the buttons for me?” she asked, turning her back to him.  His fingers fumbled at the fabric, hands trembling.  The dress slipped onto the floor, and she drew her night-rail over her undergarments.

    She turned to face him, a single tear slipping down her cheek.  “I’m sorry, Seeker,” she whispered, then collapsed onto the bed.  He pressed his hand to her forehead—she was burning with fever.

    Seeker knelt at Beautiful’s bedside, pressing a damp cloth to her brow.  For three days she had lain there, groaning, trembling.  Without a doubt—she’d driven herself past the limit with all the wedding preparations.  When her eyes fluttered open, she gave him the faintest smile.

   “My Odysseus,” she whispered, trying to push herself upright.

    Seeker set a hand gently on her shoulder.  “Take it easy, Beautiful.”

    “I need to…” she whispered, but the words trailed off.

    “You don’t ‘need to’ anything, Beautiful,” he said.  “You’ve already done it all—and made yourself sick.”

    “I did what had to be done,” she said firmly, “Who else was going to do it?”

    “That’s not true, Beautiful.  You took on too much.  I warned you—but you wouldn’t listen.”

    “Warned me?  About what, Seeker?” she shot back.

   “My parents.  We didn’t need to drag them to the waterfalls.  It ruined everything.”

   Her face fell.  “You hated our wedding.”

   “No, Beautiful, I didn’t hate it.  It was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever seen.”

    “But…” she began, her eyes searching his.

    “But you yawned.”  The image still burned in his mind.

    “I was so tired, Seeker,” she whispered, “That doesn’t mean…”

    “It means you should’ve listened.”

    “I’m hungry,” she said quietly.

    “There’s fish stew waiting for you,” Seeker said, “Though, for the life of me, I have no idea where Miss Cheerful found fish around her.”

    Her eyes lit up, bright enough to make the whole room feel lighter.

    “Are you ready to go home—our home?”

    She didn’t answer.  She only drew him close, kissed him deeply, then pulled him onto the bed.

***

    They stepped onto the Narrow Way together.  Beautiful clung to his arm, leaning on him for strength, while he carried everything she owned in the world in the bag slung across his shoulder.

    They walked slowly—no rush, no hurry.  Time belonged to them now.  At a narrow stream, Seeker knelt, filled his canteen, and passed it to her.  She drank deeply before handing it back.  Then she slipped off her boots and stepped into the water, wading across.

    “The bridge, baby!” he exclaimed, pointing ahead.  She only giggled.

    “It’s not deep, honey,” she called back, splashing onto the far bank. 

    He shrugged, tugged off his boots, and rolled up his pants.  “Don’t blame me if I drop your things in the water.”  A quick grin.  “Accidentally of course.”

    His footsteps splashed through the stream, steady beneath her.  She didn’t glance back.  He wouldn’t drop her bag.  Ahead, a gentle hill rose, scattered with lilies.  At the crest she sank into the grass, folding her legs beneath her.  He set the bag down and eased himself beside her.

    A perplexed look flickered across his face.  Something about this place unsettled him—she was sure of it.  He always carried such high expectations, and the disappointments when life fell short.  Did he feel that way about her too?

    She dug into her bag and brought out a wooden bowl with a spoon tucked inside.  Popping off the tight lid, she scooped up a hearty chunk of fish.

   “Hungry again already, Beautiful?” he teased, a smile tugging at his mouth.

    Silly man.  You didn’t have to be hungry for fish stew.  She turned her head with a soft giggle.  “Want some?”

   He wrinkled his nose.  “I wouldn’t dare take away any of your… delicious stew.”

   She took a few bites, then secured the lid tight.  Plucking a lily, she tucked it behind his ear.  If he wouldn’t eat the stew, he’d taste it another way.  She leaned in and kissed him.

    He pointed toward a village tucked into the mountains across the ravine.  A shadow crept over her heart.  It felt—lonely.  No other word fit.  Lovely, yes… but still lonely. 

    They set off again down the path, and Beautiful laughed softly—Seeker walked on completely unaware of the lily still tucked in his hair.  But her smile faded when they reached the bottom of the hill where a stone monument stood, weathered and solemn, with bones fastened to it.  She slowed, reading the inscription.

    “Gruesome,” she muttered.  She knew the story of Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, but this felt like too much.  She glanced at Seeker—he almost looked comforted.  Strange.  Bothered by lilies, yet soothed by bones?

    Ahead, the Hill of Difficulty loomed, steep and bare, its rocky path vanishing into the clouds.  Fear clutched at her chest.  Yet at the same time, something within her tugged—this was the way forward.  Seeker stood waiting at the crossroads.  When she turned back toward him, it felt as if something tore inside her, a part of her refusing to follow, left behind at the foot of the hill.

    As they passed the granaries and carts, her heart grew heavy.  On one side of the path to Delight stood an ancient building, its timbers darkened with age and its copper roof gone dull.  A low hum filled the air, broken by the groaning and creaking of old wood.

    “It feels haunted,” she whispered. 

   “I work there,” said Seeker flatly.

    Her heart ached for him—the days, the years he had worked there for her.  And the days, the years still ahead.  The thought was unbearable.

***

    Seeker felt irritation rising inside him.  Beautiful had gone quiet, and he knew her well enough to recognize it wasn’t good.  Her face had fallen when he’d pointed out Delight, and since then her mood had only sunk lower with each step.

    She’d lingered on the bridge, staring wistfully at the waterfalls in the ravine.  Seeker muttered under his breath as they passed the land that should have been his.  The house perched above the ravine was finer than anything he could have afforded.  She must be disappointed in him.  What else could it be?

    They wound through the streets until they came to their home.  Seeker’s chest swelled with pride.  No, it wasn’t by the ravine—but he’d built it right beside Diligent and his wife, Dedicated.  Maybe Dedicated would be a friend for Beautiful.

    He bent to scoop her up and carry her over the threshold, but she only scoffed, pushed the door open herself, and stepped inside.

    The ceiling was low and timbered.  Their steps echoed across wide planks, still raw with the scent of sawdust and resin.  A rough-hewn stone fireplace jutted from one wall, an iron hook waiting for the kettle.

    He led her into the kitchen.  The smell of new plaster and lime was still faint in the air.  The counters were of bare wood, and there was a deep clay basin for washing.

    The bedroom was a narrow room with a single small window, its shutters creaking faintly in the breeze.  The walls were bare and whitewashed, with only a lone wooden peg for hanging clothes.

    Seeker’s books were piled against one wall of the main room in uneven stacks.  Across from them sat the only piece of furniture in the house—a settee.  A long wooden bench with padded cushions, tan with lines of red and purple dots running across them.  Grinning, Seeker pulled it forward to show how it folded out into a bed frame.

    “What do you think, Beautiful?” he asked, watching her face with eager anticipation.

    She didn’t answer.  She just dropped to her knees and began to cry.

   Seeker dressed quietly in the early morning, careful not to wake Beautiful.  She’d spread a blanket on the bedroom floor, flatly refusing the couch he had bought.  This was where they would sleep now.

    “We’ll be buying all the furniture together from now on,” she said firmly.  Of course—that had been the plan all along.  He just needed somewhere to sleep.  Anywhere but the floor.

    He knelt and kissed her forehead softly, then slipped out without a word.  At lunch, he’d come back to see her before returning to the mill.

    He groaned when he reached the mill—carts loaded with rye, barley, and wheat had piled up while he was gone.  He hoisted a sack onto his shoulder and trudged up the stairs to the grain room, setting it down with a thud before heading back out to the carts.

    He scanned the carts—at least dozens of trips.  Leaving the sacks out wasn’t an option; the summer heat would spoil the grain.  If he pushed hard, he might be done by noon.  But there’d be no lunch break waiting—just as many sacks of flour to haul back out of storage.

    By early afternoon the drivers would be back with their oxen, and the flour had to be ready.  Seeker heaved another sack onto his shoulder with a grunt and started the climb again.

    Beautiful.  His heart sank.  What would he do with her?  She had to be disappointed in him—why else would she have cried?

    He set the second sack down beside the first and went back for another.  Disappointment gnawed at him.  He’d wanted that lot above the ravine so badly.  If only he’d worked harder.  And still—it stung.  He’d imagined her throwing her arms around him, telling him how much she loved their new home.

    One by one, he stacked the sacks into a neat pile.  With each trip, words formed in his mind—he’d say this… no, better to say that.  Back and forth, over and over.  At last, he dropped the final sack in place, sank to the floor, and took a long drink from his canteen.

    All that remained was the flour.  Then he could go home—to Beautiful.

***

    Beautiful stretched and yawned, reaching across the blanket.  Seeker was already gone.  A small ache tugged at her chest.  His face from last night rose in her memory—disappointment, plain as daylight.  Was he already tired of her?  He could have at least nudged her before leaving.

    She straightened the blanket they’d slept on.  First priority: a bed.  The floor didn’t bother her, but Seeker had protested—that was what the couch was for.  She still couldn’t believe his taste.  It might have been the ugliest thing she’d ever seen.  And uncomfortable besides.

    In the main room, Seeker’s books lay piled against one wall.  He needed a bookcase.  But first—a table, so they could eat together.

    Seeker had promised to come home for lunch.  That was still hours away.  She might as well explore the village—maybe even bring back something delicious for him.

–

    Beautiful wandered the village streets.  It wasn’t the neat houses, or the tidy flower gardens that caught her eye—it was the silence.  No laughter.  No voices.  Not even the stray cats that roamed Bright-Harbor’s alleys.  Just stillness.  Empty, aching, lonely silence.

    Near the center of the village, Beautiful finally spotted life—two young women about her age.  The first moved like a fox, sly and too sure of herself.  Not in a way Beautiful liked.  She swayed as she came closer, tossing her long, wavy black hair with practiced ease.

    “You must be the Beautiful we’ve heard so much about.”  Those green eyes swept her from head to toe.  “You’re not what I was expecting.”  A flush crept into Beautiful’s cheeks.

    The second woman hurried up.  “Charm!  Shame on you.”  Her face was soft, her blue eyes gentle.  She turned to Beautiful.  “Please forgive my cousin.  Welcome to Delight.  I’m Comfort.”

    “Sister,” Charm cut in, her voice smooth but sharp at the edges.

    “Distant cousin,” Comfort shot back, her tone tightening.

    “Sister,” Charm pressed, then added in a low voice, almost sweet, “Adopted.”

    Comfort shot Charm a glare, then slipped her hand into Beautiful’s.  

    “Come,” she said warmly.  “Let me show you around.”

–

    Beautiful spread out her linen cloth across the ugly couch and set out a loaf of bread, some olives, cheese, and a single tomato.  They really did need a table.  Comfort had already told her where to find one.

    She waited.  Noon came.  Still no Seeker.  She paced the room, back and forth, the bread and cheese untouched.  When the door stayed shut, tears stung her eyes.  How dare he?  He’d promised.

    She sat on the floor, leaning against the ugly couch.  Seeker’s satchel lay by the pile of books, drawing her eye.  She tore off a piece of bread, chewed slowly, and let her gaze drift back to the satchel.

***

    Seeker exhaled a long breath as he stepped out of the mill.  The day had dragged, heavy and endless, leaving him sore and spent—but he was going home to Beautiful.  That was all that mattered.

    He thought about stopping to pick up something delicious for Beautiful but brushed the idea aside.  He couldn’t bear to waste even a minute—he just wanted to get home to her.

    “Beautiful,” he called as he pushed the door open.  Then he froze.  She stood in the middle of the room, fists on her hips, lightning flashing in her eyes.  His satchel lay spilled across the floor at her feet.

    “What is this?” she demanded, brandishing his pipe in her fist.

    Heat rushed to Seeker’s face.  He opened his mouth, but no words came.

    “When were you going to tell me?” she demanded, fury burning in her voice.  “Or were you even going to tell me at all?”

    “It just helped pass the time, Beautiful.  Three years is a long time.”

    Beautiful’s face went pale.  Her voice dropped, trembling.  “Did she help you pass the time, Seeker?”

   She?  What was Beautiful talking about?  Jealous of—Comfort?

    “It’s not like that, Beautiful.  Comfort… she’s like a little sister.”

    “Comfort?”  Beautiful scoffed.  “Comfort?  You think I’m stupid?  Stop lying to me.”  Her voice curled into a mocking sing-song.  “Oh, Beautiful, I’ve heard so much about you.”  She let out another bitter scoff, eyes blazing.  “Are you the stupid one, or do you think I am?”

      “I wish I never left Bright-Harbor.”  She spun on her heel, stomped into the bedroom, and collapsed into sobs.

    Seeker sank onto the ugly couch and buried his face in his hands.  What had just happened?

   Seeker dressed quickly, not even trying to keep quiet.  From the other room, Beautiful’s steady breaths told him she was feigning sleep—but he knew she was awake.  He left without a word, pulling the door shut behind him.

    Another long day at the mill waited for him.  He grunted, shoving the handle forward.  A faint orange stain showed on the wall—barely visible.  The urge to smash his fist into it rose hard, but he forced it down.  He kept pushing, heat simmering inside.  Damn her.  Why did she have to make everything so complicated?

    She?  What was Beautiful talking about?   The stain surfaced again, mocking him from the stone wall.  He curled his fist, but what good would it do?  One swing and he’d only split his knuckles.  And truth be told, he no longer cared what Beautiful would think.

    Sweat streamed down his face, soaking his shirt.  The labor brought no relief to the gnawing ache in his chest.  Around and around—every bit of it was for her.  Didn’t she see that?

    Hours dragged by, his anger dulling to a heavy ache.  Maybe he should go home at lunch, try to talk with her.  No—he knew better.  It would only make things worse.

    “Seeker?” Beautiful’s voice floated from the doorway.  “Are you in here?”

    He stopped, let go of the handle, and turned toward her.  “What do you need, Beautiful?”

    “Oh, dreadful,” she whispered, tracing the handle with her finger.  Then she turned, fixing her eyes on him.  “I brought you lunch.”

    “Fine,” he said flatly.  “Leave it on the bench outside.”

    She rose on her toes and brushed his lips with hers.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m eating with you.  And we’re talking.”

    She took his hand and pulled him to the bench outside.  They sat, and she spread a handkerchief between them, setting out the food—a loaf of bread, a piece already torn away, a wedge of cheese, a few olives, and a single tomato.

    She drew his clasp-knife from her bag and set to slicing the tomato.

    “That’s mine,” he protested.

   “Mine now,” she said.

    When they’d finished eating, she reached into her handbag and pulled out his pipe, the pouch of tobacco, and the flint.

    “Beautiful,” he growled, low in his throat.

    “If you’re going to smoke, do it with me,” she said flatly.  “No secrets.  That’s all I care about, Seeker.”

    He scoffed and snatched the pipe from her hand.  Pinch by pinch, he packed the bowl, tamping it firm with his thumb.  Clenching the stem between his teeth, he struck flint to steel until the tobacco caught.  He drew smoke into his mouth, held it for a moment, then turned and blew it out, away from her.

    If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought she was fascinated.  At last, she said, “Let me try.”

   He shrugged with a quick grin and passed it to her.  “Don’t grab the bowl, Beautiful.  You want to burn your fingers?”

    She held it gingerly, drew the tiniest puff—and instantly burst into coughing, choking, gagging.  “Nasty,” she sputtered, shoving it back at him, “You really should quit.”

    He took it back, drew a slow, deliberate puff, then exhaled—this time right between them, not bothering to turn aside.

   She waved the smoke away with a flick of her hand.  “We need to talk.”

    “About what?”

   “Your books need a case.”

   “Yeah.”

   “And we need a proper bed.  And a table.”

   “I know, Beautiful.”

   “We’re getting them today.  As soon as you finish work.  Comfort showed me a shop yesterday.”

    Seeker sat there puffing on his pipe, watching her.  “If I had the money, Beautiful, I’d have bought it all already.  You know that.”

   She wrinkled her nose.  “And I’m glad you didn’t.”   The words ugly couch hovered unsaid between them.

    “We’ll just have to wait.  I don’t have the money, Beautiful.”

    “Now listen, Seeker,” she said firmly, “I know you work hard.  But I worked too.”

    “But, Beautiful…” He hesitated, “That’s your money.”

    “Yes, Seeker,” she replied, her eyes steady. “And it’s my home, too.”

  Summer slipped by, then fall with its harvest, and milling soon after.  Seeker’s days blurred into labor, his evenings into books and study.  Beautiful’s stretched long and empty.  At times Seeker came home for lunch; other days she walked to the mill to see him.  But the silence closed in when he was gone, heavy as stone, and more often than not, she wept.

–

    Winter came, and Seeker was once again chopping wood in Danger.  On Christmas Eve, after the day’s work was done, he trudged through the snow to a small pine he’d spotted earlier on the mountain slope near Delight and cut it down.  He dragged it home, its branches leaving a trail behind him, and set it upright in the corner of their main room, the air growing rich with the fragrance of evergreen.

    “Don’t look,” he told Beautiful.

    She sat curled on the ugly couch in her nightgown, firelight warm against her skin.  A contented smile played on her lips as she sang softly over the crackle of the hearth—“Silent night, holy night… all is calm, all is Bright.”

    She covered her eyes with one hand.  Seeker opened a small box of ribbons and glass globes—red, blue, and green—and began hanging them carefully on the tree.

    “No peeking,” he said.  

    She giggled, fingers pressed tighter over her eyes.

    When the last ornament was in place, she uncovered her eyes and let out a bright, delighted laugh.

    He crossed the room and settled beside her, his fingers threading gently through her hair.  “Merry Christmas, Beautiful,” he whispered.  

    She leaned against him, a faint smile lingering, the silence between them warm.  The fire crackled, the pine filled the air with its sharp fragrance, and for a little while the world outside seemed far away.  In that quiet glow, it felt as though nothing could touch them.

    At last, Seeker spoke.  “It breaks my heart to see you so lonely, baby.  For me, it’s enough—just the two of us.  But I know you need more.”

    “No, Seeker,” she said, her eyes alight.  “Not just the two of us.  Not anymore.”  She drew his hand into hers and guided it to rest on her belly.  Her voice softened.  “Three of us.  I’m pregnant.”

    Seeker stared at her, the words barely sinking in.  Beautiful—pregnant?  Beneath his hand, within her belly, a new life was beginning.  Their child.  Would it be a daughter with her smile, or a son in his own likeness?

    She gazed at him, eyes shining, waiting for his words.  He drew her into his arms, holding her as if she were the most delicate treasure in the world, afraid to press too tightly.

    “Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking with wonder, “This is the best Christmas gift I could receive.”

    Everything he had ever wanted was here—in her arms, and in the new life they had made.

The Christmas Surprise

by

    Summer slipped by, then fall with its harvest, and milling soon after.  Seeker’s days blurred into labor, his evenings into books and study.  Beautiful’s stretched long and empty.  At times Seeker came home for lunch; other days she walked to the mill to see him.  But the silence closed in when he was gone, heavy as stone, and more often than not, she wept.

–

    Winter came, and Seeker was once again chopping wood in Danger.  On Christmas Eve, after the day’s work was done, he trudged through the snow to a small pine he’d spotted earlier on the mountain slope near Delight and cut it down.  He dragged it home, its branches leaving a trail behind him, and set it upright in the corner of their main room, the air growing rich with the fragrance of evergreen.

    “Don’t look,” he told Beautiful.

    She sat curled on the ugly couch in her nightgown, firelight warm against her skin.  A contented smile played on her lips as she sang softly over the crackle of the hearth—“Silent night, holy night… all is calm, all is Bright.”

    She covered her eyes with one hand.  Seeker opened a small box of ribbons and glass globes—red, blue, and green—and began hanging them carefully on the tree.

    “No peeking,” he said.  

    She giggled, fingers pressed tighter over her eyes.

    When the last ornament was in place, she uncovered her eyes and let out a bright, delighted laugh.

    He crossed the room and settled beside her, his fingers threading gently through her hair.  “Merry Christmas, Beautiful,” he whispered.  

    She leaned against him, a faint smile lingering, the silence between them warm.  The fire crackled, the pine filled the air with its sharp fragrance, and for a little while the world outside seemed far away.  In that quiet glow, it felt as though nothing could touch them.

    At last, Seeker spoke.  “It breaks my heart to see you so lonely, baby.  For me, it’s enough—just the two of us.  But I know you need more.”

    “No, Seeker,” she said, her eyes alight.  “Not just the two of us.  Not anymore.”  She drew his hand into hers and guided it to rest on her belly.  Her voice softened.  “Three of us.  I’m pregnant.”

    Seeker stared at her, the words barely sinking in.  Beautiful—pregnant?  Beneath his hand, within her belly, a new life was beginning.  Their child.  Would it be a daughter with her smile, or a son in his own likeness?

    She gazed at him, eyes shining, waiting for his words.  He drew her into his arms, holding her as if she were the most delicate treasure in the world, afraid to press too tightly.

    “Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking with wonder, “This is the best Christmas gift I could receive.”

    Everything he had ever wanted was here—in her arms, and in the new life they had made.

Buying Furniture

by

    Seeker dressed quickly, not even trying to keep quiet.  From the other room, Beautiful’s steady breaths told him she was feigning sleep—but he knew she was awake.  He left without a word, pulling the door shut behind him.

    Another long day at the mill waited for him.  He grunted, shoving the handle forward.  A faint orange stain showed on the wall—barely visible.  The urge to smash his fist into it rose hard, but he forced it down.  He kept pushing, heat simmering inside.  Damn her.  Why did she have to make everything so complicated?

    She?  What was Beautiful talking about?   The stain surfaced again, mocking him from the stone wall.  He curled his fist, but what good would it do?  One swing and he’d only split his knuckles.  And truth be told, he no longer cared what Beautiful would think.

    Sweat streamed down his face, soaking his shirt.  The labor brought no relief to the gnawing ache in his chest.  Around and around—every bit of it was for her.  Didn’t she see that?

    Hours dragged by, his anger dulling to a heavy ache.  Maybe he should go home at lunch, try to talk with her.  No—he knew better.  It would only make things worse.

    “Seeker?” Beautiful’s voice floated from the doorway.  “Are you in here?”

    He stopped, let go of the handle, and turned toward her.  “What do you need, Beautiful?”

    “Oh, dreadful,” she whispered, tracing the handle with her finger.  Then she turned, fixing her eyes on him.  “I brought you lunch.”

    “Fine,” he said flatly.  “Leave it on the bench outside.”

    She rose on her toes and brushed his lips with hers.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m eating with you.  And we’re talking.”

    She took his hand and pulled him to the bench outside.  They sat, and she spread a handkerchief between them, setting out the food—a loaf of bread, a piece already torn away, a wedge of cheese, a few olives, and a single tomato.

    She drew his clasp-knife from her bag and set to slicing the tomato.

    “That’s mine,” he protested.

   “Mine now,” she said.

    When they’d finished eating, she reached into her handbag and pulled out his pipe, the pouch of tobacco, and the flint.

    “Beautiful,” he growled, low in his throat.

    “If you’re going to smoke, do it with me,” she said flatly.  “No secrets.  That’s all I care about, Seeker.”

    He scoffed and snatched the pipe from her hand.  Pinch by pinch, he packed the bowl, tamping it firm with his thumb.  Clenching the stem between his teeth, he struck flint to steel until the tobacco caught.  He drew smoke into his mouth, held it for a moment, then turned and blew it out, away from her.

    If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought she was fascinated.  At last, she said, “Let me try.”

   He shrugged with a quick grin and passed it to her.  “Don’t grab the bowl, Beautiful.  You want to burn your fingers?”

    She held it gingerly, drew the tiniest puff—and instantly burst into coughing, choking, gagging.  “Nasty,” she sputtered, shoving it back at him, “You really should quit.”

    He took it back, drew a slow, deliberate puff, then exhaled—this time right between them, not bothering to turn aside.

   She waved the smoke away with a flick of her hand.  “We need to talk.”

    “About what?”

   “Your books need a case.”

   “Yeah.”

   “And we need a proper bed.  And a table.”

   “I know, Beautiful.”

   “We’re getting them today.  As soon as you finish work.  Comfort showed me a shop yesterday.”

    Seeker sat there puffing on his pipe, watching her.  “If I had the money, Beautiful, I’d have bought it all already.  You know that.”

   She wrinkled her nose.  “And I’m glad you didn’t.”   The words ugly couch hovered unsaid between them.

    “We’ll just have to wait.  I don’t have the money, Beautiful.”

    “Now listen, Seeker,” she said firmly, “I know you work hard.  But I worked too.”

    “But, Beautiful…” He hesitated, “That’s your money.”

    “Yes, Seeker,” she replied, her eyes steady. “And it’s my home, too.”

Lonely Bride In Delight

by

    Seeker dressed quietly in the early morning, careful not to wake Beautiful.  She’d spread a blanket on the bedroom floor, flatly refusing the couch he had bought.  This was where they would sleep now.

    “We’ll be buying all the furniture together from now on,” she said firmly.  Of course—that had been the plan all along.  He just needed somewhere to sleep.  Anywhere but the floor.

    He knelt and kissed her forehead softly, then slipped out without a word.  At lunch, he’d come back to see her before returning to the mill.

    He groaned when he reached the mill—carts loaded with rye, barley, and wheat had piled up while he was gone.  He hoisted a sack onto his shoulder and trudged up the stairs to the grain room, setting it down with a thud before heading back out to the carts.

    He scanned the carts—at least dozens of trips.  Leaving the sacks out wasn’t an option; the summer heat would spoil the grain.  If he pushed hard, he might be done by noon.  But there’d be no lunch break waiting—just as many sacks of flour to haul back out of storage.

    By early afternoon the drivers would be back with their oxen, and the flour had to be ready.  Seeker heaved another sack onto his shoulder with a grunt and started the climb again.

    Beautiful.  His heart sank.  What would he do with her?  She had to be disappointed in him—why else would she have cried?

    He set the second sack down beside the first and went back for another.  Disappointment gnawed at him.  He’d wanted that lot above the ravine so badly.  If only he’d worked harder.  And still—it stung.  He’d imagined her throwing her arms around him, telling him how much she loved their new home.

    One by one, he stacked the sacks into a neat pile.  With each trip, words formed in his mind—he’d say this… no, better to say that.  Back and forth, over and over.  At last, he dropped the final sack in place, sank to the floor, and took a long drink from his canteen.

    All that remained was the flour.  Then he could go home—to Beautiful.

***

    Beautiful stretched and yawned, reaching across the blanket.  Seeker was already gone.  A small ache tugged at her chest.  His face from last night rose in her memory—disappointment, plain as daylight.  Was he already tired of her?  He could have at least nudged her before leaving.

    She straightened the blanket they’d slept on.  First priority: a bed.  The floor didn’t bother her, but Seeker had protested—that was what the couch was for.  She still couldn’t believe his taste.  It might have been the ugliest thing she’d ever seen.  And uncomfortable besides.

    In the main room, Seeker’s books lay piled against one wall.  He needed a bookcase.  But first—a table, so they could eat together.

    Seeker had promised to come home for lunch.  That was still hours away.  She might as well explore the village—maybe even bring back something delicious for him.

–

    Beautiful wandered the village streets.  It wasn’t the neat houses, or the tidy flower gardens that caught her eye—it was the silence.  No laughter.  No voices.  Not even the stray cats that roamed Bright-Harbor’s alleys.  Just stillness.  Empty, aching, lonely silence.

    Near the center of the village, Beautiful finally spotted life—two young women about her age.  The first moved like a fox, sly and too sure of herself.  Not in a way Beautiful liked.  She swayed as she came closer, tossing her long, wavy black hair with practiced ease.

    “You must be the Beautiful we’ve heard so much about.”  Those green eyes swept her from head to toe.  “You’re not what I was expecting.”  A flush crept into Beautiful’s cheeks.

    The second woman hurried up.  “Charm!  Shame on you.”  Her face was soft, her blue eyes gentle.  She turned to Beautiful.  “Please forgive my cousin.  Welcome to Delight.  I’m Comfort.”

    “Sister,” Charm cut in, her voice smooth but sharp at the edges.

    “Distant cousin,” Comfort shot back, her tone tightening.

    “Sister,” Charm pressed, then added in a low voice, almost sweet, “Adopted.”

    Comfort shot Charm a glare, then slipped her hand into Beautiful’s.  

    “Come,” she said warmly.  “Let me show you around.”

–

    Beautiful spread out her linen cloth across the ugly couch and set out a loaf of bread, some olives, cheese, and a single tomato.  They really did need a table.  Comfort had already told her where to find one.

    She waited.  Noon came.  Still no Seeker.  She paced the room, back and forth, the bread and cheese untouched.  When the door stayed shut, tears stung her eyes.  How dare he?  He’d promised.

    She sat on the floor, leaning against the ugly couch.  Seeker’s satchel lay by the pile of books, drawing her eye.  She tore off a piece of bread, chewed slowly, and let her gaze drift back to the satchel.

***

    Seeker exhaled a long breath as he stepped out of the mill.  The day had dragged, heavy and endless, leaving him sore and spent—but he was going home to Beautiful.  That was all that mattered.

    He thought about stopping to pick up something delicious for Beautiful but brushed the idea aside.  He couldn’t bear to waste even a minute—he just wanted to get home to her.

    “Beautiful,” he called as he pushed the door open.  Then he froze.  She stood in the middle of the room, fists on her hips, lightning flashing in her eyes.  His satchel lay spilled across the floor at her feet.

    “What is this?” she demanded, brandishing his pipe in her fist.

    Heat rushed to Seeker’s face.  He opened his mouth, but no words came.

    “When were you going to tell me?” she demanded, fury burning in her voice.  “Or were you even going to tell me at all?”

    “It just helped pass the time, Beautiful.  Three years is a long time.”

    Beautiful’s face went pale.  Her voice dropped, trembling.  “Did she help you pass the time, Seeker?”

   She?  What was Beautiful talking about?  Jealous of—Comfort?

    “It’s not like that, Beautiful.  Comfort… she’s like a little sister.”

    “Comfort?”  Beautiful scoffed.  “Comfort?  You think I’m stupid?  Stop lying to me.”  Her voice curled into a mocking sing-song.  “Oh, Beautiful, I’ve heard so much about you.”  She let out another bitter scoff, eyes blazing.  “Are you the stupid one, or do you think I am?”

      “I wish I never left Bright-Harbor.”  She spun on her heel, stomped into the bedroom, and collapsed into sobs.

    Seeker sank onto the ugly couch and buried his face in his hands.  What had just happened?

Crying In Delight

by

    Seeker knelt at Beautiful’s bedside, pressing a damp cloth to her brow.  For three days she had lain there, groaning, trembling.  Without a doubt—she’d driven herself past the limit with all the wedding preparations.  When her eyes fluttered open, she gave him the faintest smile.

   “My Odysseus,” she whispered, trying to push herself upright.

    Seeker set a hand gently on her shoulder.  “Take it easy, Beautiful.”

    “I need to…” she whispered, but the words trailed off.

    “You don’t ‘need to’ anything, Beautiful,” he said.  “You’ve already done it all—and made yourself sick.”

    “I did what had to be done,” she said firmly, “Who else was going to do it?”

    “That’s not true, Beautiful.  You took on too much.  I warned you—but you wouldn’t listen.”

    “Warned me?  About what, Seeker?” she shot back.

   “My parents.  We didn’t need to drag them to the waterfalls.  It ruined everything.”

   Her face fell.  “You hated our wedding.”

   “No, Beautiful, I didn’t hate it.  It was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever seen.”

    “But…” she began, her eyes searching his.

    “But you yawned.”  The image still burned in his mind.

    “I was so tired, Seeker,” she whispered, “That doesn’t mean…”

    “It means you should’ve listened.”

    “I’m hungry,” she said quietly.

    “There’s fish stew waiting for you,” Seeker said, “Though, for the life of me, I have no idea where Miss Cheerful found fish around her.”

    Her eyes lit up, bright enough to make the whole room feel lighter.

    “Are you ready to go home—our home?”

    She didn’t answer.  She only drew him close, kissed him deeply, then pulled him onto the bed.

***

    They stepped onto the Narrow Way together.  Beautiful clung to his arm, leaning on him for strength, while he carried everything she owned in the world in the bag slung across his shoulder.

    They walked slowly—no rush, no hurry.  Time belonged to them now.  At a narrow stream, Seeker knelt, filled his canteen, and passed it to her.  She drank deeply before handing it back.  Then she slipped off her boots and stepped into the water, wading across.

    “The bridge, baby!” he exclaimed, pointing ahead.  She only giggled.

    “It’s not deep, honey,” she called back, splashing onto the far bank. 

    He shrugged, tugged off his boots, and rolled up his pants.  “Don’t blame me if I drop your things in the water.”  A quick grin.  “Accidentally of course.”

    His footsteps splashed through the stream, steady beneath her.  She didn’t glance back.  He wouldn’t drop her bag.  Ahead, a gentle hill rose, scattered with lilies.  At the crest she sank into the grass, folding her legs beneath her.  He set the bag down and eased himself beside her.

    A perplexed look flickered across his face.  Something about this place unsettled him—she was sure of it.  He always carried such high expectations, and the disappointments when life fell short.  Did he feel that way about her too?

    She dug into her bag and brought out a wooden bowl with a spoon tucked inside.  Popping off the tight lid, she scooped up a hearty chunk of fish.

   “Hungry again already, Beautiful?” he teased, a smile tugging at his mouth.

    Silly man.  You didn’t have to be hungry for fish stew.  She turned her head with a soft giggle.  “Want some?”

   He wrinkled his nose.  “I wouldn’t dare take away any of your… delicious stew.”

   She took a few bites, then secured the lid tight.  Plucking a lily, she tucked it behind his ear.  If he wouldn’t eat the stew, he’d taste it another way.  She leaned in and kissed him.

    He pointed toward a village tucked into the mountains across the ravine.  A shadow crept over her heart.  It felt—lonely.  No other word fit.  Lovely, yes… but still lonely. 

    They set off again down the path, and Beautiful laughed softly—Seeker walked on completely unaware of the lily still tucked in his hair.  But her smile faded when they reached the bottom of the hill where a stone monument stood, weathered and solemn, with bones fastened to it.  She slowed, reading the inscription.

    “Gruesome,” she muttered.  She knew the story of Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, but this felt like too much.  She glanced at Seeker—he almost looked comforted.  Strange.  Bothered by lilies, yet soothed by bones?

    Ahead, the Hill of Difficulty loomed, steep and bare, its rocky path vanishing into the clouds.  Fear clutched at her chest.  Yet at the same time, something within her tugged—this was the way forward.  Seeker stood waiting at the crossroads.  When she turned back toward him, it felt as if something tore inside her, a part of her refusing to follow, left behind at the foot of the hill.

    As they passed the granaries and carts, her heart grew heavy.  On one side of the path to Delight stood an ancient building, its timbers darkened with age and its copper roof gone dull.  A low hum filled the air, broken by the groaning and creaking of old wood.

    “It feels haunted,” she whispered. 

   “I work there,” said Seeker flatly.

    Her heart ached for him—the days, the years he had worked there for her.  And the days, the years still ahead.  The thought was unbearable.

***

    Seeker felt irritation rising inside him.  Beautiful had gone quiet, and he knew her well enough to recognize it wasn’t good.  Her face had fallen when he’d pointed out Delight, and since then her mood had only sunk lower with each step.

    She’d lingered on the bridge, staring wistfully at the waterfalls in the ravine.  Seeker muttered under his breath as they passed the land that should have been his.  The house perched above the ravine was finer than anything he could have afforded.  She must be disappointed in him.  What else could it be?

    They wound through the streets until they came to their home.  Seeker’s chest swelled with pride.  No, it wasn’t by the ravine—but he’d built it right beside Diligent and his wife, Dedicated.  Maybe Dedicated would be a friend for Beautiful.

    He bent to scoop her up and carry her over the threshold, but she only scoffed, pushed the door open herself, and stepped inside.

    The ceiling was low and timbered.  Their steps echoed across wide planks, still raw with the scent of sawdust and resin.  A rough-hewn stone fireplace jutted from one wall, an iron hook waiting for the kettle.

    He led her into the kitchen.  The smell of new plaster and lime was still faint in the air.  The counters were of bare wood, and there was a deep clay basin for washing.

    The bedroom was a narrow room with a single small window, its shutters creaking faintly in the breeze.  The walls were bare and whitewashed, with only a lone wooden peg for hanging clothes.

    Seeker’s books were piled against one wall of the main room in uneven stacks.  Across from them sat the only piece of furniture in the house—a settee.  A long wooden bench with padded cushions, tan with lines of red and purple dots running across them.  Grinning, Seeker pulled it forward to show how it folded out into a bed frame.

    “What do you think, Beautiful?” he asked, watching her face with eager anticipation.

    She didn’t answer.  She just dropped to her knees and began to cry.

The Wedding

by

    Two and a half years—they’d done it.  But Beautiful knew there was still so much left.  Running away together might be good enough for Seeker.  But marriage involved more than just a man and a woman.

    Seeker was busy with the house.  Her dad spent nights on the water, her mom in the fields and marketplace.  That left Beautiful to manage the wedding preparations alone.  All of Bright-Harbor was coming—those who could walk would walk, and the rest would ride in carts.  She had gone into the city to arrange it all.  The drivers promised an early start at daybreak and arrival before noon, in time for the vows.  Afterward there would be food, and the carts would carry everyone home.

    She walked to the Cottage alone—Seeker had offered to come for her, to walk back together, but she refused.  Still, the thought of sleeping on the road by herself quickened her steps.  Her legs ached, yet she pressed on.  Not when her Deliverer was far away in Delight, unable to come if she cried out.

   “I’ll make sure no one goes hungry, Beautiful,” said Miss Cheerful, handing her a list.  “Here’s what I’ll need.”

    Kind and his family had returned to the Delectable Mountains, and Stern had come back.  He gladly agreed to perform the ceremony.  “I’ll even prepare a special sermon just for the two of you.”

    She slept in her old bed in the Cottage and set out at dawn.  She pushed straight through to Bright-Harbor without stopping to eat.  Whenever her legs threatened to give out, she paused for a moment.  She was dizzy by the time she reached home.

    The next morning, she ached all over, but there was still so much to do.  On the outskirts of Vain-Delights she found a small shop that handled weddings.  They would arrive a day early to set up the benches in the pasture.  There would be an arch woven with flowers, more bouquets set around, and candles.  They even had an artist who would paint the ceremony.  She handed over Miss Cheerful’s list, and they promised to bring those as well.

   Altogether—the carts, the food, the decorations—it cost just over two gold.  She’d still have enough left for furniture in their new home.

    Next came Seeker’s parents.  They would travel with her the day before and stay at the Cottage.  “You two shouldn’t let anyone know you’re…” her voice trailed off.  One room for the both of them.  Seeker’s dad didn’t seem to mind, but his mom flatly refused.  Why was she so stubborn?  But Beautiful wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

***

    Seeker stopped short when he reached the pasture.  Men hurried past with benches, setting them in neat rows.  In the middle of it all stood Beautiful, pointing, directing.  “Those flowers go over there.”

    She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then hurried on without stopping.  “Yes, that table—right there, in the front.  And the candles go on it.”  She strode over and shifted them herself.  The big one in the center, tall ones on either side.

    Seeker’s parents waited by the flowered arch behind the row of benches.  He went to them—shaking his dad’s hand, then pulling his mom into a hug.

    “You wouldn’t believe—” His mom broke off as Beautiful walked up.

    Beautiful’s eyes looked tired, though she tried to cover it with a smile.  “Seeker, honey,” she said sweetly, but the strain edged her voice.  “Once everything’s set up, let’s have supper with your mom and dad, then take them to the waterfalls.”

    “Beautiful,” he said, “Relax.  You’re doing too much.”

    “No.  Great-Saint said we have to show them around.”

   “I don’t care what Great-Saint said,” Seeker snapped.  “This is your day.  Our day.”

    Beautiful’s face took on that stubborn look he knew so well.  He knew he wouldn’t win this argument.

    “We could just go back to our room,” his dad said, the words a little too eager.

    Seeker’s mom glowered—first at his dad, then at Beautiful.  Something sharp and unspoken passed between the two women.

    The sun was down, the sky already dark by the time they returned.  It was late—very late—but Miss Cheerful had left a candle burning for them.  Seeker and Beautiful bade his parents goodnight, then slipped away together to her room.

    “I’m hungry,” she murmured. 

    A gentle knock came at the door.  As if she’d known, Miss Cheerful entered with a bowl of soup and two spoons.

    Seeker and Beautiful sat cross-legged on the bed, eating in silence.  Then they curled into each other’s arms and drifted into dreamless sleep.

***

    After breakfast, Beautiful laid out Seeker’s clothes on the bed.  She gave him a look.  “You didn’t think you were going to wear the same clothes you’ve been milling in, did you?”

    Miss Cheerful bustled in.  “Shoo, shoo!  Off to the pasture with you.  Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”  She started to say “Fill some water—” but stopped short, giving his clothes an approving nod.  “Never mind.  Just bring your parents along.”

    Beautiful lifted the brass mirror from the side table.  Her face was puffy, with dark circles beneath her eyes.  Every part of her ached.  All she wanted was to crawl back into bed and sleep.

    Miss Cheerful took her hand and led her to the washroom.  She filled the tub herself, drawing water from the barrels and kettle, then spooned in some of the rosemary-scented mixture from a crock.  When Beautiful eased into the warmth, Miss Cheerful dipped a linen cloth into the suds and rubbed her back.  “Now, now,” she murmured, “you’ll be the most beautiful bride ever, Beautiful.”

    After Beautiful dried herself, Miss Cheerful brushed out her hair, the strokes slow and steady, then gathered it up and pinned the veil in place.  She helped button the back of the dress, fingers quick and sure.  “Now rest, dear,” she said gently.  “Don’t wear yourself out.”

    When the carts arrived just before noon, the villagers poured into the Cottage.  They went straight for the food Miss Cheerful had prepared.

    “That’s for after the wedding!” she cried, but no one listened.  “At least save some for the bride and groom,” she pleaded.

    When the food was gone, the villagers clambered back into the carts bound for the pasture.  Beautiful set out on foot, walking beside her mom and dad.

***

    The sun shone warm, and clouds drifted slow, casting soft shadows across the pasture.  A lamb bleated, and a sparrow’s song seemed to say, The winter is past, and spring has come.  The lilies by the table filled the air with fragrance.

    Stern stood at the front with his Book in his hand.  Steadfast and Gracious had come, their children gathered close.  Great-Saint was there with his wife, and Beautiful’s other brother, Practical, with his.  Beautiful’s sisters—Considerate, Lively, and Tender-Hearted—stood with their husbands, filling the rows with familiar faces.

    Seeker wished Kind and Liora could be there—and Thoughtful, too.  His mom and dad sat in the front row on one side.  Across the aisle, a shepherd escorted Beautiful’s mom to her seat in the other.

    A hush fell over the crowd as Beautiful stepped through the arch on her father’s arm.  Sunlight caught the white of her dress, tracing the lace, her shoulders, the line of her neck.  The world spun, and time slowed as she came toward him.  Her father met Seeker’s eyes, gave a single nod, and set her hand in his—then went to sit beside her mom.

    Beautiful smiled at him, but her eyes were dull.  She lifted a hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn.  They stood before Stern as he spoke, but Seeker didn’t hear a word—his thoughts were only on her.  As Stern spoke at length, the people shifted on the benches, a low rustle of whispers rising.

    When Stern finally finished, they turned to each other, hands joined.  Seeker trembled as he spoke, but Beautiful’s vows came steady and sure.

    Seeker and Beautiful each took a tall candle from the table.  Together they lit the larger one in the center—then with a single breath, blew out their own.

    “Now,” Stern declared with a smile, “you may kiss the bride.”

    Seeker lifted her chin and kissed her lips gently.  The crowd cheered, and together they walked down the aisle, hand-in-hand.

***

    At last, the crowd was gone, and together they made their way back to the Cottage.  They’d shaken hands and smiled until every cart rolled away with the villagers bound for Bright-Harbor.  Beautiful clung to his hand as they walked, but she said little.

    Miss Cheerful offered to prepare them a meal, but Beautiful only shook her head and declined softly.

    They went up to her room—their room—and closed the door behind them.  “Seeker, can you undo the buttons for me?” she asked, turning her back to him.  His fingers fumbled at the fabric, hands trembling.  The dress slipped onto the floor, and she drew her night-rail over her undergarments.

    She turned to face him, a single tear slipping down her cheek.  “I’m sorry, Seeker,” she whispered, then collapsed onto the bed.  He pressed his hand to her forehead—she was burning with fever.