Audrey M. Stevens is an Indiana resident who married her high school sweetheart after graduating from IUPUI. Now a stay-at-home mom to a beautiful daughter and rambunctious pup, she continues to write in the hopes of publishing more books. Find all her current works at:
https://www.amazon.com/Audrey-M.-Stevens/e/B087777W7P
Spinner’s Song
By Heather Carson
“This song is just for you.” Ligeia pulls the newborn baby to her chest. The blood of birth soaks them both and the baby screams until his mother’s hum soothes him into a trance.
“Let’s finish the process.” The midwife digs her knuckles into Ligeia’s stomach. She moans against the sudden pressure, but it is nothing compared to the pain that occurred just a few moments ago.
After she’s bathed in boiled sea water, the midwife gets Ligeia into bed. The seal skin blankets are tucked around her creating a nest of warmth. The baby wiggles his small body down, sucking skin until he finds the nipple.
“You did a wonderful job.” The midwife smooths the wet hair back from Ligeia’s face. “He’s perfect. You’ll heal fast.”
“That’s good.” Ligeia nods drowsily. “I need to get back to work.”
“Hush now, child,” the midwife croons softly. “The spinners will take care of you.”
Ligeia shuts her eyes. “I don’t need their pity.”
“It isn’t pity.” The old woman shakes her head. “They want to help. You just had a baby.”
“Plenty of women have babies,” Ligeia sighs with her eyes still closed. “But not many of them are recently widowed.”
“All the more reason to accept the help.” The midwife shrugs.
“I don’t need help.” Ligeia yawns as the newborn baby falls asleep in her arms. The midwife moves to take him so that she can get some sleep. “Leave him,” Ligeia whispers. “We will be okay.”
***
“Look.” Leif mimics the word as he reaches his chubby fingers up toward the seagull flying overhead.
“Look at that baby.” Ligeia smiles as she kisses the top of his downy curls. The baby squirms in her arms as he struggles to see where the white winged creature has flown off to. The frustration tenses his tiny body and she can feel the scream that is building in his lungs as they move through the crowded wharf.
She lowers her lips to his ear and begins to sing softly against it. The tantrum fades as he relaxes against her chest. By the time she reaches the fish market, Leif has fallen asleep. His hot breath blows against her arm and mixes with the crisp morning ocean breeze.
“Hello, Anna.” Ligeia smiles in greeting as she approaches the young woman at the stall. They used to play together as children behind the wall that separates the cities from the earth, but that was a long time ago. Life took them in different directions as it so often does. Anna’s sharp eyes glance over her childhood friend and notice the baby sleeping in her arms.
“Hey. What can I get for you today?” she whispers as she gestures to the catch laid out in the bins.
“I’ll take 4lbs of tuna, 1lb of mackerel, and 1/2lb of shrimp if you have any.” Ligeia removes her coin pouch from the pocket under Leif’s limp leg.
Anna bites her lip as she takes the money. “Do you want me to have someone carry it to your house? Bergah is off from his father’s shop today. He’s a sweet boy. I know he won’t mind.”
“I can carry it.” Ligeia lifts her chin and shifts the boy’s weight to her hip so that she can hand over the shopping bag woven from plastic. Anna lowers her eyes and hurries to fill the order so that Ligeia doesn’t have to stand there waiting for long.
***
Leif sleeps the entire walk home allowing Ligeia the chance to wander lazily through the city on the sea. She hasn’t taken the time to do something like this since Hamon’s boat was caught in a storm and capsized a month before Leif was born. The memory of his warm hands on the small of her back and his beard as it tickled her cheek brings about a hollow ache as deep as the ocean. Ligeia tightens her grip on her son unconsciously.
Their house sits at the edge of the wharf, down the floating docks, and near an outcropping of rocks too sharp and jagged to walk on safely. Behind it is the wall. The rusted metal extends twenty feet high in the air and protects the remaining bit of earth that survived the rising seas and earthquakes.
In another year or two, Leif will be allowed through the gates to spend his mornings playing on the small strip of island just as Ligeia and Anna did. All children are given this opportunity. When they get too big, they won’t see the land again unless they choose to retire at the age of 60. The retirees take a ship to the Northern Gate where the land isn’t eroding like it is here.
Ligeia looks at her son’s rosy cheeks as he snores against her chest. She could never imagine retiring and leaving him behind. No matter how old he gets or how much easier life would be on the land, she could never abandon him. Ligeia closes her eyes as she hums softly to the baby.
“Oh gods, I’m sorry!” Ligeia gasps as she crashes into the back of a watchman. Leif wakes in a confused daze just as the bag of fish spills out onto the metal planks beneath her feet. The watchman turns and Leif begins to cry.
“Watch where you are going…” the man’s voice trails off as he stares into Ligeia’s startled eyes. “Here, let me help.”
“It’s alright,” she whispers, adjusting the baby on her hip and reaching for the handle of the fallen bag.
“No trouble at all.” He squats down, creasing his drab green uniform, and quickly gathers up the food. His eyes never leave her face. Her cheeks flush under the intensity of his gaze.
“I can get it,” she insists. Leif’s cries grow louder as he sobs against his mother’s chest.
“You have your hands full.” The watchman smiles. A dimple indents his clean-shaven cheek. “Where are you heading? I’ll carry this for you.”
“No need.” Ligeia holds out her arm for the bag, but he moves it out of reach as he stands.
“This is an official order.” He winks playfully.
The color of her cheeks deepens. No one refuses an official order from a watchman. Their job is to protect the wall and keep order in the cities. Those who don’t comply disappear. He’s only joking, but hearing those words spoken aloud sends fear spiraling into the pit of her stomach.
“I live just over there,” her voice cracks as she speaks.
“Then let’s get you home,” the watchman says gently, wishing the worry on her face didn’t tug at his heart that way. “It looks like the boy needs to continue his nap.”
Leif’s eyes widen and the screaming stops as he studies the man who walks beside his mother. Little hiccups rock his small body.
“Thank you.” Ligeia takes the bag from the watchman as she reaches her front door.
“Atlas.” He smiles, holding out his hand to shake hers and then realizing the futility of the action. “You really have your hands full,” he laughs. It’s such a light and carefree sound that the tension eases from her shoulders and even Leif smiles.
“Thank you again, Atlas.” Ligeia nods as she opens the door and then locks it behind her.
***
“She’s beautiful.” Atlas shakes his head to dispel the image burned into his mind and takes a sip of sugar kelp rum.
“You aren’t falling for one of them, are you?” Tagart leans back in his chair and laughs.
The loft above the tavern floor where the watchmen come when they are off duty is unusually warm tonight. Atlas rubs a hand across the back of his neck as the smile creeps its way back to his face. “I’m just saying she is beautiful. Can’t a guy give a compliment?”
“Which one is it?” Charles leans over the table to scan the crowd below. “The girls that serve here all look the same to me.”
“Not here,” Atlas sighs. “I’ve never seen her come in here. She lives down by the sharp rocks and has a baby.”
“The widow?” Charles’ jaw drops. “Her name is Ligeia I think. Sh
e is pretty though.”
“She’s a widow?” Atlas lowers his face. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to get mixed up in that if I were you,” Tagart laughs. “We only have two months left on this rotation. You wouldn’t want to break her heart.”
“Do these women have hearts?” Charles chuckles.
Atlas stares sullenly into his mug as he swirls the brown liquid around. The amber tint reminds him of the freckles splashed across her cheeks and the hair falling softly around her face.
***
“There’s your girl.” Charles nudges Atlas as they make their patrol around the city. Atlas looks over to the pier and sees Ligeia with the boy child strapped securely to her back. The sea breeze blows wisps of long curly hair around her face which she fights to tuck behind her ears.
His feet move him forward without thought until he’s close enough to catch the faintest notes of music drifting back to him in the wind. She’s singing. A wide grin lights up his face and he wants to laugh.
“Hey Ligeia, wait up,” he calls. She pauses, unsure of who spoke her name, and scans the crowd.
“Atlas?” Her eyebrow arches as he approaches. “Is there something wrong?”
“Of course not.” He cocks his head to the side and smiles. As she stares at him, he quickly straightens his shoulders and coughs into his hand. His voice lowers, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She takes a step back as Charles comes to Atlas’ side. Both men tower over her slight frame. The sight of two watchmen standing there causes her pulse to quicken. She glances over her shoulder to make sure no more are coming. When the trouble makers disappear, it is always in the middle of a group of watchmen. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but the fear is still real.
“Was there something else you needed?” she musters up the courage to ask. Atlas stands silently watching her face as Charles rolls his eyes.
“No, ma’am. Have a wonderful day.” Charles pulls his friend away.
“What is wrong with you, man?” he whispers harshly once they are out of earshot.
“I don’t know,” Atlas groans. “My tongue got stuck in my throat.”
“Get it together.” Charles shakes his head. “You have a job to do.”
“I know.” Atlas runs a calloused palm over his chin as he looks hopefully at Charles. “Did you hear her though? She was singing.”
“Oh boy, you are screwed.” Charles claps him on the back. “You found yourself a siren. What song was she singing?”
“I didn’t hear it well, but the notes were familiar.” A grin erases the embarrassment from his face. “I’ll have to ask her the next time I see her.”
***
Ligeia sets Leif down in the rock circle near her feet as she takes her rightful place amongst the spinners. She reaches into the pile of plastic strips and pulls out a handful. It’s the start of a new strand. Three twists and a knot.
A long time ago, before the rising seas and the earthquakes, humans had other material of which to make rope with. That material is gone now, but the ancestors did leave millions of plastic bags behind. To this day, divers recover pounds of plastic from beneath the sea. The plastic is cut into strips and braided into rope that is strong enough to anchor boats but versatile enough for everyday use.
All around Ligeia the spinners sing the song of a woman meeting her sailor home on leave. It’s an ancient song, one Ligeia knows by heart. The music lulls the mother and child into a calming state as they continue about their business. Ligeia spins while Leif plays with rocks and seashells under her careful eye.
“Sorry I’m late,” Margaret says breathlessly as she takes her place next to Ligeia. She is younger than Ligeia by a few years, but they sit closest together so the women have formed an easy friendship.
“Did the midwives keep you?” Ligeia asks.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Margaret twists her long red hair into a bun and fastens it at the base of her neck before grabbing her bag of plastic strips. “I wish you would have talked me out of the apprenticeship.”
“You’re a natural,” Ligeia reassures her. “It’s where you belong.” Margaret laughs as Leif reaches his chubby arms up to her and she leans over to tickle his belly.
“Is that a new dress or something?” she asks as she sits on the rock beside Ligeia.
“No.” Ligeia looks down at the tanned hide dress. The color fades near her knees. “Why do you ask?”
“Something is different.” Margaret gives her a long look.
Ligeia lowers her eyes and focuses on her work as she ponders her friend’s words. “There is a watchman named Atlas that startled me today.”
“Are they watching you?” Margaret’s voice drops to a whisper. The other women cast worried glances at the girls. Up on the docks, a single watchman walks by. Margaret motions with her eyes in his direction. The spinners take notice and raise their voices so the song will cover the sound of their conversation.
“I don’t think so.” Ligeia chews her lip as she watches the watchman pass. “It seems like this one just wants to talk to me.”
“Is he cute?” Julie leans forward and interjects herself into their discussion.
“I don’t know.” Ligeia shrugs. She hasn’t looked at a man in that way since Hamon was lost at sea eleven months ago. She struggles to recall the watchman’s face. He had a strong jaw that was cleanly shaven and a dimple on his cheek. His eyes were playful and kind. “I guess he’d be considered attractive.”
“There’s no harm in playing around. We still have two months left before their rotation.” Julie winks.
“Stop it.” Margaret glares at the girl.
“What?” Julie asks. “I’m only saying that if she wants to, and is ready to, then she should go for it.”
“I don’t think I’m ready,” Ligeia whispers before inhaling a deep breath and joining the spinners’ songs.
***
“What are you doing?” Ligeia gasps as Atlas steps from the shadows of the market stall. “Are you following me?”
“No. I…” He pauses to look around. “Yeah, this looks awkward, doesn’t it?”
Once her heart rate returns to normal, a smile teases the corner of her lips. She’s never met a watchman who acts this silly before.
“Yes,” she laughs. “It’s a little uncomfortable.”
“My apologies.” He places a hand over his heart. “Allow me to make it up to you. I was just heading to the tavern to meet up with my friends. Can I buy you some dinner?”
The smile fades from her face just as quickly as it came. “No, thank you. I need to get Leif home.”
“Of course.” Atlas twists his boot across the plank as he lowers his eyes. “Well, do you mind if I walk with you for a while? I’m off duty now and don’t have any plans besides meeting up with the guys.”
Ligeia glances at the empty walkways. Everyone not heading to the tavern has gone home to be with their families. Leif needs some dinner before he melts down. Then she’ll sit alone by the light of the whale oil lantern and get some stitching done. Atlas gives her a hopeful smile.
“I suppose that will be alright.” She smiles back. “You already know which way I’m going.”
***
“What’s it like being a watchman?” Ligeia asks as they pass by the open doors to the tavern. The laughter from the customers drifts into the cool night air like a warming breeze.
A cloud falls over Atlas’ face. “It’s alright. I wasn’t really expecting things to be the way they are, but I only have another two years until I’m done.”
“Where will you go then?” She steps gingerly over a rotted plank. The welders haven’t fixed this portion of the walkway in a few months.
“Home.” He shrugs.
“And where is home?” The teasing of her voice sounds foreign to her own ears.
“Down South,” he answers mechanically.
“Near the watchmen tra
ining center.” She nods. “I’ve always wondered why all the watchmen seem to come from that area. I’ve never been to another city. Is it nice there?”
“Not really for young men.” Atlas looks away as he speaks. “There aren’t a lot of jobs for us to do there and most of us join the watchmen.”
“Not even fishing jobs?” Her brow furrows as she studies his profile.
“The older men have a monopoly on those.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “But enough about me. I want to know about you.”
“There’s not much to know,” Ligeia giggles as she nears the docks. “I used to love to sail. Now I’m just a mother and a spinner who does seamstress work on the side.”
“But you like to sing.” Atlas moves slower as they near her house.
“I’m a spinner.” She smirks. “We sing a lot.”
“You were singing on the pier yesterday. I only heard a note or two.” It doesn’t matter how slow he walks; they reach the door of her house anyway. “The song sounded familiar to me. What’s the name of it?”
“You’ve probably never heard it.” She shakes her head. “It was a song that was passed down for generations in my family.”
“Will you sing it for me?” he blurts out the question as her hand touches the doorknob.
“Maybe some other time,” she laughs awkwardly.
“Please.” His eyes widen as he begs, standing on her walkway with his hands in his pockets. He looks so sad that she can’t help but smile.
“Alright.” She begins to sing. The notes drift sweetly through the air between them.
“What’s wrong?” She stops abruptly when Atlas takes a frightened step away.
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