I’ve never asked you why you want to leave Marrowdell.” Quietly. “Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course I am.” Her father’s eyes were steady and kind. Hers fell. “Not always,” she admitted. “Poppa, I love Marrowdell. I love our home and the mill. It’s just . . .” How could she tell him that every time the sun set, she felt she’d lost another day? That what had been a normal restlessness this spring had blossomed into wild impatience over summer, until now she ached inside as if she starved? “I need something. Something more.”
“What?”
“I don’t know—only that it isn’t here.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Is that so wrong, Poppa?”
“No.” Almost bleak. “No, it’s not.”
Her heart pounded. “Then you’ll let me go with Aunt Sybb?”
“I can’t.” The unhappy words low and hard to hear. “Jenn, no. It’s not possible. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She sat back and sighed in resignation. “I know why.”
This gained her a slight frown. “You do?”
“You want me to take a husband first.” Jenn did her best not to sound put upon and misused. Dignity first, Aunt Sybb would say. “Very well. I’ll pick one.” Or make one, she dared add to herself.
Her father carefully set down his cup. “You believe that’s what I want? What your aunt wants?”
“Isn’t it?” Jenn asked warily.
The scent of roses filled the warm evening air, rich and impossible to ignore. Her father lifted his head and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared as he drew in a long, reverent breath, then he exhaled and gazed at her, his face strangely at peace. “It’s time I told you about your mother and Marrowdell.”
Implying something she didn’t already know, which surely wasn’t right. Her family didn’t have secrets. The world stilled around her, as if astonished too. All but the house toad, busy settling its unwieldy bulk atop the luggage.
“When my mills, our home, everything was taken? Like the rest, I was given three choices. Stay, with nothing. Leave, and take exile in Mellynne or the north. Not that it was a choice,” he reminded her. “We were Rhothan, born and raised, regardless of our great-grandparents. What welcome would we have in Mellynne? At least to the north, we were offered land, a chance to start again. Your mother being pure Rhothan . . .” her father began, then confounded her. “Understand me, Jenn. Your mother didn’t have to leave.”
About to say, “But she did,” Jenn hesitated and changed her mind. What could he mean? Everyone knew the decree had stripped wealth; it hadn’t split families. Not directly. “Aunt Sybb was able to stay.” Why hadn’t he?
“Hane’s family accepted her as their own. Melusine’s?” His lips twisted as if over something sour. “Our marriage wasn’t to their liking, in any way. They cast me loose once the decree was law, glad for the excuse and to see me gone. Melusine and Peggs were, naturally, to stay with them.”
They’d relatives in Avyo?
She couldn’t wait to tell Peggs.
Then, all at once, the full import of what he’d said struck home. “They wanted Mother to leave you?” Jenn echoed in disbelief. “To take Peggs? How could anyone want that?”
“For the same reason I begged her to obey them,” he said heavily. “Fear of what this life would be. Fear for her safety, and little Peggs’. None of us knew what to expect.”
Jenn had heard the stories. Exiles had died, in the exodus north. Whole settlements had failed that first terrible winter. She understood why, in the Midwinter Beholding, all in Marrowdell gave thanks for the sturdy buildings they’d found waiting, for the water and grain. Who had lived here first, raised the buildings, cleared the land, no one knew. They must have been driven away by their dreams, as had some of those who’d arrived with the Nalynns. What they’d left behind saved those who came after.
Her father had been very brave to take that
“Of course I am.” Her father’s eyes were steady and kind. Hers fell. “Not always,” she admitted. “Poppa, I love Marrowdell. I love our home and the mill. It’s just . . .” How could she tell him that every time the sun set, she felt she’d lost another day? That what had been a normal restlessness this spring had blossomed into wild impatience over summer, until now she ached inside as if she starved? “I need something. Something more.”
“What?”
“I don’t know—only that it isn’t here.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Is that so wrong, Poppa?”
“No.” Almost bleak. “No, it’s not.”
Her heart pounded. “Then you’ll let me go with Aunt Sybb?”
“I can’t.” The unhappy words low and hard to hear. “Jenn, no. It’s not possible. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She sat back and sighed in resignation. “I know why.”
This gained her a slight frown. “You do?”
“You want me to take a husband first.” Jenn did her best not to sound put upon and misused. Dignity first, Aunt Sybb would say. “Very well. I’ll pick one.” Or make one, she dared add to herself.
Her father carefully set down his cup. “You believe that’s what I want? What your aunt wants?”
“Isn’t it?” Jenn asked warily.
The scent of roses filled the warm evening air, rich and impossible to ignore. Her father lifted his head and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared as he drew in a long, reverent breath, then he exhaled and gazed at her, his face strangely at peace. “It’s time I told you about your mother and Marrowdell.”
Implying something she didn’t already know, which surely wasn’t right. Her family didn’t have secrets. The world stilled around her, as if astonished too. All but the house toad, busy settling its unwieldy bulk atop the luggage.
“When my mills, our home, everything was taken? Like the rest, I was given three choices. Stay, with nothing. Leave, and take exile in Mellynne or the north. Not that it was a choice,” he reminded her. “We were Rhothan, born and raised, regardless of our great-grandparents. What welcome would we have in Mellynne? At least to the north, we were offered land, a chance to start again. Your mother being pure Rhothan . . .” her father began, then confounded her. “Understand me, Jenn. Your mother didn’t have to leave.”
About to say, “But she did,” Jenn hesitated and changed her mind. What could he mean? Everyone knew the decree had stripped wealth; it hadn’t split families. Not directly. “Aunt Sybb was able to stay.” Why hadn’t he?
“Hane’s family accepted her as their own. Melusine’s?” His lips twisted as if over something sour. “Our marriage wasn’t to their liking, in any way. They cast me loose once the decree was law, glad for the excuse and to see me gone. Melusine and Peggs were, naturally, to stay with them.”
They’d relatives in Avyo?
She couldn’t wait to tell Peggs.
Then, all at once, the full import of what he’d said struck home. “They wanted Mother to leave you?” Jenn echoed in disbelief. “To take Peggs? How could anyone want that?”
“For the same reason I begged her to obey them,” he said heavily. “Fear of what this life would be. Fear for her safety, and little Peggs’. None of us knew what to expect.”
Jenn had heard the stories. Exiles had died, in the exodus north. Whole settlements had failed that first terrible winter. She understood why, in the Midwinter Beholding, all in Marrowdell gave thanks for the sturdy buildings they’d found waiting, for the water and grain. Who had lived here first, raised the buildings, cleared the land, no one knew. They must have been driven away by their dreams, as had some of those who’d arrived with the Nalynns. What they’d left behind saved those who came after.
Her father had been very brave to take that
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