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.
