Redemption of Eva

    The edges of the chamber dissolved into shadow in the fading light, leaving the space at once cavernous and secure.  One wall held a hollowed hearth, and a narrow flue carved upward like a chimney, the stone above streaked black with old smoke.  In a side alcove, branches lay stacked in neat order, cut and ready.  Seeker crossed two sticks, tucked kindling between, and struck steel to flint.  Sparks caught, and soon a flame licked upward.  Fire pushed back the darkness, casting the room in a shifting, golden glow.

    On the opposite wall, a thin thread of water trickled into a carved stone basin—broad and low, its rim worn smooth by years of use.

    Along the chamber’s edges, benches and low seats had been hewn from the rock itself, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of weary pilgrims leaning here.

    They sat in silence, watching until the fire sank low.  Then moonbeams spilled through the skylights, flooding the chamber with light almost as bright as day.

    Seeker set his hands to the stone, ready to roll it back.  Beautiful touched him lightly, her hand soft against his.  “Don’t,” she whispered.  “He might still be out there.”

    Seeker nodded and let his hand fall.  “All right.  Our things can wait until morning.”

    In the silver glow filtering through the shafts, he followed the narrow steps downward to a lower level, where smaller chambers had been cut into granite.  Each held a stone slab for a bed and an alcove stacked with folded woolen blankets.  Seeker, Beautiful, and Bright would share one room, and Comfort would take another.

***

    Morning seeped into the cave in muted light.  Seeker slipped outside to recover his burden and staff.    Beautiful brushed her lips against the dark bruise across his forehead and urged him to tread softly, to keep a watchful eye for Wrath.

    After he left, she began to explore.  The water in the basin shimmered cool and clear—pure enough to drink.

    Beside the hearth stood a wide-mouthed clay jar she hadn’t noticed before—worn and chipped, holding only a few handfuls of meal—and a small clay cruse with a narrow neck, filled with golden oil.  Just enough for several small loaves of bread.  The hearth itself was small and plain, yet large enough to bake them.  With their provisions stolen, this would sustain them only for a day, and they would need to continue on.

–

    Seeker staggered into the doorway, dropped his burden and staff onto the floor, and sank onto a stone seat, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face.  Beautiful dipped his tin cup into the basin and handed it to him.

    He drank slowly.  “I thought he was gone… until I returned.  He was waiting for me.”  A long breath shuddered from him.

***

    From the chamber where they sat, a stairway climbed deeper into the mountain, ending at a locked door.  Seeker slipped his clasp-knife between the door and jamb and lifted the latch, just as he had done many times at the Interpreter’s tower.

    Inside lay a chamber of pure alabaster, its walls etched with stories of antiquity.  Sunlight poured through the skylights, setting the stone aglow.  Seeker paused before the first relief: two brothers, two altars—one piled with fruit of the field, the other with a lamb.

    “What’s that, Daddy?”  Bright asked, pressing close beside him, eyes fixed on the carving.

   “That’s Cain and Abel, Bright.”

   “Mama read me about them,” he said.  “I like the fruit better.”

    Seeker only nodded.

    Bright pointed at the next carving—the ark that Noah had built.  “He… he brought two of each animal.  One chimpanzee, and one bonobo.  The bonobo was the mama.”

    “Is that so?”  Seeker asked.

    Bright nodded, eyes shining with certainty.

    The walls showed Enoch, who walked with the King, and Abraham setting out with Sarah and Isaac.

    “Just like us, right?”  Bright said.

    And Jacob with his sons—the twelve brothers.  Joseph leading them into Egypt, and Moses bringing them out again.  All around the alabaster chamber more scenes unfolded.  Joshua and Rahab, Gideon, Barak, and Samson; Jephthah, David and Samuel.

    One by one they studied the carvings, Bright’s eyes shining, until they had seen them all.  Then Seeker took his hand and led him back down the stairs to Beautiful.

   “Mama, Mama!  Daddy read me a story.”

   Beautiful glanced at Seeker, puzzled.

   “No,” Seeker said.  “You read him the stories.  I only showed him the pictures.”

***

    Now I saw in my dream that Beautiful baked four loaves, and they ate and were satisfied.

    But when the morning came and Seeker went to the entrance, he saw that Giant Wrath had pitched a camp and kept watch, waiting for them to continue their journey.

    When Beautiful checked the clay jar, she found just enough flour for that day’s need.  The next morning Giant Wrath still waited.  Yet to her surprise, the jar held enough again.

    Days turned into months, yet the giant lingered at the cave’s mouth.  And still the flour never ran out, and the oil never ran dry.  So they remained in the Cave of Resolution until the time came for Beautiful to give birth to Wonderful.

    Hours passed.  The sun slipped behind the peak, and a soothing breeze stirred the air.  Seeker paused, panting for breath.

   Beautiful sighed.  “We must be near the top.”

   Seeker gave a wry laugh.  “Not even halfway.  But the Arbor shouldn’t be far.  We’ll rest there tonight.”

    Bright sprawled in the middle of the path, eyes squeezed shut.

   “Get up, Bright,” Beautiful scolded.  “Don’t lie in the dirt like that.”

   He only moaned in reply.

    “Honey,” she said, “Put your burden down.  Rest a few minutes.”

    Seeker nodded and started to slip his arms from the straps—when a boulder thundered past.

    Seeker’s eyes darted upward.  Had it fallen from the outcropping ahead?  He scanned the rocks, tracing higher—then froze.  Too far.  Too large.  No ordinary man could stand at that distance.  A giant loomed, grotesque in form, clad only in a ragged loincloth, a boulder raised high above his head.

    Beautiful gasped and yanked Bright to his feet.

    The giant hurled the boulder.  It slammed into the path, missing Seeker by a breath, then careened down the slope.

    “Run!” he shouted.

    Beautiful froze, clutching Bright’s hand.  She spun toward the path behind them.

    “Up!  Up!”  Seeker gasped. 

    Bright burst forward, scrambling up the path, with Beautiful close behind.  Seeker’s chest heaved, vision blurring as he fought for breath—but he didn’t slow, driving himself after them.

    “The giant can’t see us here,” Beautiful gasped as they paused in the shadow of the overhang.

    From above came low, angry growls.

    Just ahead lay the Arbor, resting place for pilgrims.  Beautiful pointed, but Seeker shook his head—just as a boulder smashed into the Arbor.

    Comfort came running and stopped beside them, panting and trembling.  A rock crashed at her feet.

    Seeker dropped his burden and seized Bright’s shoulders.  “Run—and don’t stop.  Not until you reach the top.”  He motioned to Beautiful.  “Go!  I’m right behind you.  If I have to slow him down…”  He raised his staff.  “Don’t look back.”

    Beautiful shook her head.  “No!” she cried.

    Another rock slammed into the path.  They didn’t hesitate—they ran, scrambling up the steep incline.

    The path leveled as they neared the Arbor, but they didn’t slow.  Seeker’s vision flared red as pain exploded in his temple.  He sprawled forward, crashing into Beautiful and Bright knocking them tumbling to the ground with him.

   He curled on the ground, crying from the pain, unable to stand, unable even to sit up.    Beautiful and Bright sobbed beside him. 

   A voice boomed across the mountain.  “I am Wrath—bane of your father, and your father’s father.  You cannot defeat me, and you cannot hide.  Wherever you go, I will find you!”

    Silence.  The boulders ceased.  Seeker’s vision cleared.  Beautiful lay on the ground, clutching Bright in her arms, both of them shivering in terror.  Beside them rested the boulder that had struck him.

    They couldn’t stay here.  They couldn’t go back.  Their only hope lay ahead—at the summit, in the safety of Palace Beautiful.  

    He pushed himself to his feet and reached out—one hand for Beautiful, one for Bright—then touched her belly.

    “Is she… is she okay?” he asked.

    Beautiful nodded, tears streaking her cheeks.  She touched his forehead.  Pain shot through his skull, nearly doubling him over.

    “We can’t stay here,” he said.  “He’ll be back.”  He took their hands, and together they climbed upward—slow but steady.

    The ground shook.  Behind them, footsteps echoed—Giant Wrath.  Fear gripped him.  His staff—he’d left it where it fell at the Arbor.  They couldn’t go back now.

    Bright dropped to the ground.

   “Get up!” Seeker barked.  Bright refused.  Seeker scooped him into his arms, and together he and Beautiful ran as fast as they could.

    Then they saw it—a narrow cave mouth just off the path.  Seeker, Bright in his arms, dove inside with Beautiful and Comfort close behind—just as Giant Wrath loomed into view, a massive club sweeping through the air.

    Giant Wrath thrust his club into the cave, but the entrance was too narrow for him to follow.  They groped forward, stumbling through the dark.

   A faint glimmer shone ahead.  They could just make out a doorway—too clean, too well-formed to be natural.

    When they stepped through, they entered a chamber carved from limestone, narrow shafts in the ceiling letting in a soft, steady light.

    By the door stood a great round stone with handholds carved into it.  Seeker strained against it until it rolled into place, sealing the entrance. 

    Then they collapsed onto the floor, breathless with relief.

    The sun stood overhead when they reached the spring at the crossroads.  It lay at the base of the Hill of Difficulty.  Seeker unstrapped their burdens from the donkey and let it wander to graze before the climb ahead.

    Seeker hoped to reach the Arbor before sundown and rest there for the night.  With Beautiful and Bright’s pace, he wouldn’t attempt the summit.  Taking the paths around the mountain—through the Crags of Destruction or the Forest of Danger—was never an option.

    Beautiful spread a cloth and set out bread and cheese.  She dipped Seeker’s tin cup into the cool water of the bubbling spring and handed it to Bright.

    While they ate, four men emerged from the Crags of Destruction—rough-bearded, hard-eyed.  Seeker reached for his staff.

    The leader pointed at the donkey.  “Take it,” he barked.

    Seeker stepped in front of Beautiful and Bright.  One robber moved toward the donkey.  The others closed in on their belongings.  He swung hard.  His staff cracked against a man’s ribs, the sound of wood on bone ringing sharp.  A club struck him from behind.  He staggered.  The staff slipped from his hands as he fell.  A boot slammed into his side and drove the breath from his chest.

    Beautiful cried out, clutching Bright in her arms.  Comfort stepped between them and the men, wrapping her arms protectively around them both.

    “Looky what we have here,” one of the robbers called, holding up the bag of gold.  

    Another slit the canvas with his knife.  Seeker’s books spilled onto the ground.  “Books,” he scoffed.

    A third ripped open the other bags.  Their contents scattered across the dirt.  A plate clattered on the stones and cracked in two.

    Seeker pushed up on his elbow, rage burning through the ache.  He lunged again, but a blow sent him sprawling face-first in the dirt.

    Moments later they were gone—leading the donkey away with their gold and provisions.  Their footsteps faded, leaving only the bubbling of the spring and Bright’s frightened sobs.

    Beautiful rushed to Seeker’s side.  Shards of their dishes lay scattered on the ground.  One of Bright’s toys, a small wooden soldier, lay on its side with an arm broken.

    Seeker reached for his staff, chest heaving, eyes burning with fury.  “They’ll pay for this,” he growled.  He started toward Destruction, but Beautiful caught his hand and held him back.

    “Stop, Seeker,” she begged.  “It’s only things.  We can’t lose you too.”

    Seeker drew a long breath and let it out slowly.  His heart still raced.  He sank onto the grass, fighting to steady himself.  His breath came ragged and uneven.

    “Okay,” he whispered.

***

    Beautiful stitched together the torn canvas the robbers had left, fashioning a pack with straps for Seeker.  She quickly made two smaller bags for herself and Comfort.  Bright put on a brave face and insisted on carrying one too, though Seeker tucked only a few of his toys inside.

    Seeker carved a small sign:  Beware of robbers from Destruction.  He fixed it to a branch and drove it into the ground, laying their broken dishes at its base.

   Beautiful and Comfort helped him shoulder his great burden and slung their own bags across their backs.  Together, they began their ascent.

    Years at the tread-wheel had not prepared him for this.  Within a dozen steps his chest was burning.  His heart pounded, and he could not catch his breath.  The path was rocky.  Sharp stones pressing through his boots.  More than once he slipped on loose gravel, and at last he fell to his hands and knees and needed help to rise.

    The sun beat down on them, and sweat ran freely, soaking his clothes.  His mouth tasted of iron from a split lip in the fall.

    Up the path he heard Bright wailing, “I’m dying, I’m dying!”

   Beautiful, panting, snapped at him, “You’re not dying, Bright.  Just… breathing… hard.  Like Mama.”

    Beautiful turned to Seeker.  “Let’s…  take a break.”

    Seeker agreed, thankful though he hid it.  He leaned forward, easing the weight of his burden from his shoulder.  Beautiful and Bright sat on a rock, drinking from his canteen.  He didn’t dare sit.  If he did, he knew he’d never get back up.

    The irony wasn’t lost on him.  He had started his journey more than ten years before, and yet here he was—clothes worn thin and torn, a huge burden on his back.  Just like Christian at the start of his journey.  Only unlike Christian, he thought bitterly, he was climbing the Hill of Difficulty.

    Seeker and Beautiful began preparing to leave at once.  When he asked about the house, she said, “Leave it.  I don’t want to spend one more minute than we must in this accursed town.”

    Between their savings, Seeker and Beautiful had enough to buy a donkey to carry their belongings, and provisions for their journey.

    Three large canvas bags.  One for Seeker’s books, another for their dishes and Beautiful’s keepsakes, and the last for Bright’s books and toys.

    “What’cha doing, Daddy?” Bright asked.

    “Me and Mama are packing, Bright.”

    “Why?”

    “We’re going to live somewhere else,” Seeker said, tussling Bright’s hair.

    “Where?” Bright’s eyes lit with excitement.

    “Well, Bright, first we have to climb a big mountain.  Then we’ll visit Palace Beautiful.”

    “Daddy, did you know… did you know that’s Mama’s other name?”

    Seeker laughed. “Of course I know, Bright.”

    “Does Mama really have a palace?”

    Beautiful walked into the room, “Nobody knows, Bright.”  Her eyes danced.

    “Will I have friends there?” Bright asked.

    “Lots and lots of them,” Seeker said.  “Are you going to miss your friends here?”

    Bright frowned and shook his head.  “People here are too mean.”

    “Enough questions now, Bright.  Go help your mama pack your toys, okay?”

    “Okay, Daddy!” 

***   

    It was still dark when Seeker loaded their burdens onto the donkey.  As the sun rose, he led it through the village streets, Beautiful following with Bright’s hand in hers.

    In the early morning light Delight took on a sinister new shape—Deceit.  Seven years he had toiled here and never made the connections.  This was where Adam-the-First had tried to enslave Faithful.  Seven years—wasted, he thought bitterly.

    “Seeker!”  The voice cut through the morning quiet as they started across the bridge spanning the ravine.  Jabal strode up to them.  He bowed low.  “Beautiful.”   Impeccably dressed, as always—no hint of sleep left in his face.

    “I didn’t believe the rumors, so I had to come myself.  Didn’t I just give you a promotion?  Name your price, Seeker—you’re like a son to me.”

    “There’s nothing can keep us here,” Beautiful said.

    “I see,” said Jabal. “Seeker?”

    “Yes, Jabal.  We’ve made up our minds.”

    Jabal nodded, then snapped his fingers.  A serving-man stepped from the shadows.  “Bring his payment.”

    The man slipped away toward Jabal’s office.

    “I told you in Delight—”

    “Deceit,” Beautiful corrected.

    “In Desire… um, Delight,” he continued, thrown off beat, “all are rewarded for their hard work.  I wish you’d come to me yesterday.”

    The man reappeared, a folio in one hand and a bag of coins heavy in the other.  

    “Twenty gold down on your house, purchased at one hundred twenty.  Current value—two hundred.  Twenty for my commission.  That leaves one hundred,” Jabal’s voice was businesslike.

    Beautiful’s eyes went wide.  He opened the folio, revealing a note:  Debt paid in full.  Claim to house relinquished.   “Sign here.”

    The serving-man handed him a pen and a bottle of ink.  Seeker dipped the nib and scrawled his name.  Then the man passed him the bag of gold.

    “I trust you don’t feel the need to count it?”  His voice was flat.

    Seeker hefted the bag’s weight.  “No, Jabal.  No need.”

    “Oh, and one other minor thing, remaining, in the terms of your service,” Jabal said.

    Seeker frowned.  Charm stepped from the shadows, her green eyes downcast, her movements quiet.

    “My daughters will travel with you.”

    Beautiful exploded.  “That… that…” She trembled with rage.  “That whore won’t be part of my life—or my son’s.”  She stepped in front of Bright, one hand thrust out in refusal.

    Charm stepped back.

    “Very well,” Jabal said.

    Comfort emerged, tears streaming down her face, and fell to her knees.  “Take me with you, Beautiful.”  Her eyes pleaded.  “Please?”

    Beautiful hesitated.  

    “She,” Comfort spat, “isn’t my sister.”

    “Comfort!” Charm exclaimed.  Jabal frowned and shifted his stance.

    “Haven’t I served you well all these years?  I’ve been faithful—I would never betray you.”  She shot Charm a look of disdain.

    “Very well,” Beautiful said.  She started to rub her belly, then quickly let her hand fall.  “I’m sure you’ll be a help—especially now.”

    “You are always welcome here in Delight,” Jabal said.  He smiled, but the warmth never reached his eyes.

–

    Seeker loaded the gold onto the donkey.  They set out without looking back.  Beautiful walked at Seeker’s side, Bright’s hand in hers, with Comfort trailing behind.

    Beautiful paced the length of the living room, arms wrapped tight around herself.  Bright was asleep.  Seeker was still at the party.  It was late.  Later than it should have gone.   She should have gone with him.  He’d asked—begged almost.  But the thought of seeing him with her had made her stomach twist.  She couldn’t bear it.  She had practically placed him in her arms herself.

    Her heart leapt at every sound in the street, each one a hope that faded as quickly as it rose.  The hours dragged on, and her heart sank lower with every passing moment.  At last—a soft knock on the door.

    Comfort stood on the doorstep, one arm braced around Seeker.  He stumbled inside and collapsed onto the couch, boots and all.

    “Sorry for bringing him home like this, Beautiful,” Comfort said, her eyes full of pain.  “I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t want you to worry.”

   Beautiful nodded. “Thank you.”

    “I thought about taking him to my room—before she took him to hers,” Comfort said softly.  “But I didn’t want you to misunderstand.”

    “You did the right thing, Comfort,” Beautiful said gently.  No one needed her to name who she was.

    After closing the door, Beautiful tugged Seeker’s boots off and dragged him to bed.  The scent of clove and orange clung to him, sharp and unmistakable.  A storm raged in her chest.  She’d let him sleep it off—for now.  Tomorrow, he’d hear what she had to say.  But tonight, she knew, there would be no rest for her.

***

    Seeker woke in his own bed.  Alone.  No Beautiful beside him.  He had no memory of getting home.  Flashes from the celebration flickered through his mind:  Jabal’s toast.  Charm’s green eyes.  Leaving with her.  Shouts between sisters in the street.  Then—blackness.

    Beautiful sat rigid on the couch, thumbing through his Book.  “Where were you last night?”  Her voice was sharp, cutting through the haze in his head.

    “At the party,” he muttered.

    “And?”

    “And nothing.” His voice was flat, defensive.

    She shot to her feet, trembling in rage, and crossed the floor in quick strides.  “You’ve gotten good at lying, Seeker,” she said.

   “Lying?” He snorted.  “I was at the party.  You knew that.”

    “I smell her all over you.  You think I’m stupid?”

    Seeker went still.

    She slammed the Book against his chest and let it drop to the floor.  Her voice turned sharp, mocking.  “Read your damn Book again.  We’re living in Deceit—you should have known that.  Oh, you read and read.  Important books, not like my adventures.  And your books have twisted you.  How to work harder.  To be stoic.  Hide your feelings.”

    Tears streamed down her face.  “I wish I could bite my tongue for ever calling you a baby for crying.   This… man you’ve become is not the one I married.”

    Seeker’s temper flared.  His fist clenched.  She stepped back.  “You’re not the girl I married either.”

    He stepped closer.  “Yawning at our wedding.”

    She stepped back.  He closed the gap.  “Crying when I brought you home.”

    She began to shiver.  He kept coming.  “Cutting your hair.”

    She edged back until her shoulders touched the wall.  “It’s never enough,” he said. “I work, and I work, and all you ever do is cry and complain.”

    Lightning flashed in her eyes.  She clenched her fists at her sides.

    “Go back to Bright-Harbor!” he shouted.  “You don’t love me.  I don’t think you ever did.”  He drove his fist into the wall beside her head.  The crack rang through the room.

    They stood frozen.  She broke into sobs, her body shaking in ragged, shaking motions.

    “Just go,” he said, his voice flat and empty.  “Be happy.”

    “No,” she said.  “I won’t leave you.” She stared at him, despair clouding her eyes.  “I’m pregnant again.”

    Seeker doubled over as if punched in the gut.  He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

    She kept shaking, tears streaming down her face.  “This time I’m going to give you the daughter you want so much.”  Her voice wavered, breaking to a whisper.  “I thought… if I give him a daughter, he’ll love me again.”  She sank to her knees beside him.  “Maybe?” she pleaded.

    A single tear slid down his cheek.  “Forgive me, Beautiful,” he whispered.

    She gathered his hand in hers.  “I do, Seeker.  I forgive you.”

    She pulled him into her arms and held him tight, her body trembling.  “Let’s leave this dreadful place,” she whispered.  “It was always wrong.  I felt it from the beginning.  Let’s go back to the Narrow Way.”

    “Okay,” he said softly.  “I’ll pack.  We’ll leave right away.  Just you, me, and Bright.”

    She guided his hand to her belly.  “… and Wonderful,” she added.

    “And Wonderful,” he echoed, a smile breaking across his face.

    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.”

    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.

    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.