Nobody's Goddess (The Never Veil)

by Amy McNulty

  Jurij stood stock still, even as I wrenched my arm harder and harder to get him to move.

  “Oh for—Jurij!” I yelled, dropping my hands from his arm in frustration. “Ugh. I wish I was your goddess just so I could get you to obey me. Even if that means I’d have to put up with all that—yuck—smooching.” I shivered at the thought.

  At last Jurij moved, if only to lift his other arm, to run his fingers across the strap that Elfriede had mended. She was gone from my sight, but Jurij would never see another.

  It struck them all. Sometime around Jurij’s age, the boys’ voices cracked, shifting from high to deep and back again in a matter of a few words. They went from little wooden-faced animals always shorter than you to young men on their way to towering over you. And one day, at one moment, at some age, earlier for some and later for others, they looked at a girl they’d probably seen thousands of times before and simply ceased to be. At least, they weren’t who I knew them to be ever again.

  And as with so many of my friends before Jurij, in that moment all other girls ceased to matter. I was nothing to him now, an afterthought, a shadow, a memory.

  No.

  Not him.

  My dearest, my most special friend of all, now doomed to live or die by the choice of the fragile little bird who’d stopped to mend his strap.

  Like most of the village, we couldn’t afford a mirror, but if you asked me, that was a good thing. By the time Mother was done trying to make me appear half a lady, I was ready to smash anything easily breakable within five yards of where I sat. “I don’t care how long you spend running the comb through my hair, it’s never going to be soft and supple.”

  It’ll never be as beautiful as Elfriede’s.

  Mother dipped the wooden comb in the bowl of water she’d brought to the kitchen-table-turned-rack-of-torture. It wasn’t working too well. I could tell from the constant battle between my scalp and the roots of my hair that so badly wished to tear free of the skin. But it was either that or bacon grease, and I wasn’t having any pig fat slathered over my hair in attempt to tame it, not today.

  She gripped a chunk of hair like the tail on a dead squirrel and ran the wooden comb upward. “Oh!” came the shout, followed quickly by the snap of the wooden comb Father had carved for her upon their Returning years ago. The comb that was only really a last resort, a gift meant for Mother to treasure and run through her own silky, wavy golden hair. “We’ve broken the last of them,” she sighed. “We can still use the grease.”

  “No.” I could just imagine myself smelling of dead pig on the first day I’d look upon the face of the man I loved. Not that he’d care even if I showed up smeared in mud with a live pig under each arm and missing a few teeth. He only had eyes for his goddess.

  “Mother,” interrupted Elfriede, the goddess who’d have his love with or without the mud and the pigs. She stood by the sink, perhaps hoping to see her reflection in the musty water collected there. One hand held a wavy lock of golden hair that had escaped from the bun at the back of her neck. “This keeps falling out.”

  Mother crossed the room and ran the broken half of the comb through Elfriede’s loose tendril. I yanked and jostled the tangle at the top of my head until the other half of the comb came loose. “Can’t I just cut it short?”

  “No,” said Mother and Elfriede at once, in the same tone I’d used moments before.

  Elfriede patted the sides of her head as Mother crossed back over toward the bed my sister and I shared. “Really, Noll,” said Elfriede, without turning her head. “You act like a young boy enough already. What if someone glanced over and thought you were a boy—unmasked—running around? You’d scare the women in the village to death!”

  I drummed my fingers across the table. “As if anyone could mistake me for a boy.” At sixteen, I wasn’t as oak-pale as Mother and Elfriede, but my chestnut skin was lighter than any man’s.

  Mother appeared behind me to tuck a small clump of hair behind my lobe. She pinched the top of my ear playfully. “Yes, your ears are round and smooth, but you can’t expect a woman to check for the pointed ears of a man when she’s worried she’s going to kill you just by glancing at your uncovered face.”

  I tucked a strand behind my other ear as Mother glided across the room with a silky deep violet dress over her arm. She grabbed Elfriede by the wrist and gently guided her into the shaft of sunlight spilling in from the open doorway. “Won’t this look breathtaking on you?” said Mother, her face full of awe. She unfurled the dress and held it up before Elfriede. Its hem brushed the floor, kicking up a small flight of dust.

  Elfriede beamed and stepped into the dress, sliding it over the slip she’d worn since Mother did her hair earlier. Mother grinned as she helped fasten the buttons at the back. “This was the dress I wore to my Returning,” said Mother. She took Elfriede by the shoulders and spun her around. “And it’s such a joy to see my dear girl wearing it for her own.” She kissed Elfriede’s temple and used a thumb to wipe a tear first from Elfriede’s cheek and then her own. “What a fine color. It really brings out the blossom on your cheeks.”

  A dress the color of mud and vomit couldn’t stop Elfriede’s cheeks from blooming.

  The goddess was stunning today, that was plain to see. I tried to imagine Jurij standing beside her, and the face I had never seen before. For some reason, the only male face I could picture for him was the one I’d seen every day of my life, a younger, leaner version of Father. Dark skin, the color of soil soaked in rain. Bold, sharp cheeks. Tall, pointed ears like daggers jumping out from his black, curly hair—hair that at least was familiar to me.

  I longed to drink in Jurij’s eyes, dark eyes that I knew carried flames within them, as did all men’s, even when the only light for leagues was the smallest sliver of the moon. I’d known him for so long. But I could only see his face in my dreams.

  I shook my head. “Have you ever seen a young boy’s face?” I asked, more to Mother than to Elfriede. “I played with boys every day growing up, but I couldn’t tell them from one another when I first saw them in the morning unless they said something.” Jurij’s tame masks an exception.

  “Hmm? No. I didn’t have any brothers or cousins my age, same as you, so how could I?” Mother left Elfriede and crossed the room to the chest at the edge of the bed once more, rummaging through the clothing inside. Elfriede stood patiently for what was no doubt something else to bring out the blossom in her cheeks. Her hands stayed clasped together, the corners of her mouth turned upward pleasantly.

  “How do you know you’re in love with Jurij, without ever seeing his face?” It was a silly question. I knew I loved him just the same. But it was different with me. Elfriede was always too dainty to battle with monsters; she hardly knew Jurij’s name before he found the goddess in her.

  Elfriede seemed a bit taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

  “I knew you at thirteen. You and all of your girlfriends.” I counted off the boys on my fingers. “There was the oldest baker’s son. That one farmer boy. I think the candlemaker’s son? You mooned over all of the handsome older boys in the village who had their love Returned and could take off their masks. Or that strong quarry worker. He takes his shirt off so much, it really doesn’t matter what he looks like under his mask.” I smiled as Elfriede blushed and wrung her hands together.

  “All of you knew that none of those boys could ever love you, since they’d already found their goddesses, but surely they made for more entertaining daydreams than some scrawny eleven-year-old with dirt all over his kitten mask declaring his love for you.”

  Elfriede’s face darkened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh come on, Friede! You cried when Jurij found the goddess in you! You were horrible to him for months, knowing he was the only one who’d ever love you—”

  “Noll, stop teasing your sister.” Mother plopped a neatly folded brown piece of clothing beside me on the table. “Jurij’s a sweetheart. Elfriede was just sca
red and embarrassed, as most of us are when a man finds the goddess in us.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take your word on that.” I grabbed the folded clothing, and it tumbled over the table, the color of mud and vomit.

  Mother didn’t notice the frown that crossed my face as she slid in behind Elfriede, now fussing with loose tendrils of hair that didn’t even exist. “Your man will find you someday, Noll. You’re not the first late bloomer. Why, there was a woman my age whose man wound up being a number of years younger—you know, Vena, the tavern mistress. She was at least fifteen before her husband Elweard found the goddess in her.”

  “I’m sixteen.”

  I think Elfriede legitimately thought she was helping when she chimed in with, “There’ve been stories of women even older than sixteen—thirty, even. Roslyn told me her grandmother knew a woman whose man was seventeen years younger.”

  I could have puked right then. It would’ve blended into the color of the dress I slid over my head. “Let’s not go there. And let’s not forget those are only stories, and there’s no woman living over the age of thirteen who has yet to have her man find her. That is, no woman except me, and … ”

  Her eyes. Huge, bulbous, dark brown eyes. Staring directly into mine.

  “Hmm.” Mother patted Elfriede’s shoulders. “That reminds me. Ingrith is the only one who hasn’t yet been invited to the Returning.”

  I rapped my fingers on the table. “Thanks, Mother. I love being compared to a crazy old woman who lives alone.”

  “I wasn’t comparing you to anyone.” Mother stepped over to the sink and picked up a dish from breakfast, wiping it with a cloth. Why she wasted her time washing dishes when she could just bat her eyes and Father would do anything for her was beyond me. “But someone has to invite her. The lord is always watching—”

  “—And he will not abide villagers who forget the first goddess’s teachings. I know.” Although why the first goddess ever deemed that all should be invited to celebrate a Returning, I would never understand. “Why can’t you or Father do it?”

  Mother pushed aside a fallen bit of hair by rubbing the back of her forearm against her forehead. “The rest of us have been inviting people for weeks. We spoke to everyone else in the village. I think you could take the time to invite at least one person, Noll.”

  Nice of you to leave the crazy one for me.

  Elfriede hugged her arms to her chest and tapped her elbow with her index finger. “You’d think my own sister could help with the invitations to the most important day of my life.”

  You’d think my own sister could have some sympathy for the fact that she was stealing my dearest friend from me.

  “All right, all right.” I stopped moving my restless fingers. “Goddess help us if the lord thinks we invited everyone but the old woman who would rather spit at people than talk to them.” Hope you like being wet on your Returning day. “Anyway, it makes sense. Why not send one old loveless crone to fetch the other?”

  “Noll.” Mother shook a bowl over the sink, spreading water droplets, and Elfriede jumped back to get out of the fray. Elfriede held an arm out to examine her dress, and her nose wrinkled. Mother didn’t seem to notice. “I know your man will find you soon. It’s just this feeling I have.”

  “I hope you’re wrong.” I sighed and stretched one arm above my head as far as it would go. The tight stitches in the shoulders of the dress made the movement uncomfortable. A seam ripped. Great. I plopped both hands on the table and dropped back into the chair. “Because if a man does ever find the goddess in me, I’m kicking him straight into the commune.”

  “How horrible!” came Elfriede’s squeak from behind the delicate hand that covered her peach lips.

  “Noll!” The bowl in Mother’s hand dropped to the floor, clattering and echoing as it rocked back and forth. Luckily, it was made of wood. Another gift from Father, but this one for the wedding that occurred right after the Returning. At least Elfriede’s and Jurij’s wedding couldn’t yet be held. It was Elfriede’s seventeenth birthday, so she could perform a Returning, but Jurij was still only fifteen.

  I sighed. “I’m not serious, Mother.”

  “I should hope so!” A look of rage spread across Elfriede’s delicate features.

  “Why?” I asked. “Because you never thought of doing the same to Jurij?”

  “Oh!” Elfriede’s hands clasped over her ears, her lips trembling. Tears started forming across her eyes.

  Mother bent over to snatch the bowl off the ground. “Noll, hush now! Your father would be heartbroken to hear you talk like that!”

  Speak of the man. A silhouette appeared in the open door, and Father stepped inside, closing the small gap between him and Mother with two huge strides and picking her up by the waist, wooden bowl and cloth and all. “What a beautiful day it is, my love!” said Father, oblivious to the tension in the room and the tears forming in his eldest daughter’s eyes. He held Mother above him for a moment longer, craning his neck upwards to steal a kiss. “Aubree … ” He practically moaned her name.

  Mother smiled and flung the cloth down at him. “Gideon, stop that. You’re not young anymore. You’ll throw your back out.”

  Father gently put Mother’s feet back on the ground, but his hands remained firmly planted on her waist, his eyes locked intensely with hers. Mother was the first to look away. She searched Elfriede’s face, but my sister bit her lip, unrelenting, not letting a single tear fall. “Elfriede, why don’t you go visit Roslyn and Marden before the ceremony? You should be with your friends before the big day.”

  That’s another thing I wouldn’t be able to do even if I’d wanted.

  Mother turned back to her sink full of dishes, sliding with difficulty even as Father still clung to her.

  “What are you doing?” Father released Mother, only to scoop the bowl and cloth into his own hands. He scrubbed the bowl with fervor. “You should have the girls do that!”

  I didn’t think scrubbing dishes on your Returning day was a tradition, so that left me. I sighed and stood, but Mother waved me away. “The girls have other things to do today.” She grabbed Father’s hand in hers. “Honey, you’re filthy. You were out there carving. Wash up first. Then you can do the dishes.”

  Father did as commanded, and Elfriede sent me a dejected look before stepping outside. “Bye, Mother. Bye, Father!” She left me out of her farewells.

  “See you soon, dear!” called Mother. She faced me, her hands on her hips, her mouth poised to issue an order.

  Watching Father wash up gave me an idea for how to deflect the next thing out of her mouth. “How come Father still obeys your orders?”

  Father blushed and went back to pouring water over his hands in the sink and rubbing them together. “I don’t.” Right.

  Mother raised a finger and walked over to the cupboard, removing a picnic basket. She rummaged through one of the clay pots and pulled out a roll. I heard it clink as she tossed it into the basket. She looked around at the counter next to the sink and plucked a wedge of cheese from a bowl. Someone—or maybe the mice—had started biting into it. Mother covered the top of the basket with a black cloth and dropped it on the table in front of me. “Why don’t you bring these to Ingrith, and see if she wants to attend? We’ll meet you at the Great Hall at dusk.” She took my head and bent it gently forward to kiss the top. Good thing she hadn’t smeared bacon grease into it.

  I grabbed the handle of the basket gingerly with two fingers, almost feeling sorry for Ingrith if that was the extent of the gifts someone would offer her. It was little better than what the men in the commune got. Mother began to turn around but stopped suddenly, waving a hand at me. “And don’t cut through the fields. Take the pathway. We don’t want you getting your dress all dirty.”

  I think mud would blend right in with this monstrosity just fine. “Okay. Love you.” I peered over her shoulder before I turned to leave. “Love you too, Father.”

  Elbow deep in water and plates, Fathe
r grunted.

  Swinging a basket around with two fingers was an excellent way to break those fingers, which was helpful if you were looking for an excuse to get out of working for a few days. But since the Returning had that covered for me, and my fingers were starting to stiffen in what looked a bit like a hook, I gave up and began to carry the thing properly. Having a hook hand was all I needed the next time someone made a comment about how no man would ever find the goddess in me.

  Down and up and down and up again, among the violet lily-covered fields, I followed the dirt path that ran from the woods and the castle to the center of the village and out again in all directions. There were no houses between mine and the edge of the village, none but Jurij’s, the Tailor Shop on the eastern outskirts.

  Maybe if I hide my face behind the basket I could pretend I don’t see it. Lifting the basket that high made my arms sore. But then again, it did house at least one rock-hard biscuit.

  I stepped on the dog’s paw before I even realized she’d run out of the Tailor Shop to greet me. We both yelped as I tumbled.

  The basket went soaring out of my arms … and into the arms of a man with a male face carved from wood, complete with exaggerated pointy wooden ears that stuck out straight sideways. It was the mask a man only wore on the morning of his Returning.

  “Whoa!” The muffled voice was all too familiar. He bent forward to pick up the partially bitten cheese wedge, which had landed on the back of Bow, his golden dog. “Cheese is generally a fine gift for a Returning, but … ” He held up the wedge with one hand like it was the carcass of some dead squirrel Bow had brought him. “The fur-covered, half-eaten variety is not quite to my taste.”

  I grinned and snatched the cheese from him, blowing on it to get rid of all of the hairs. “I don’t know. I hear furry cheese is an excellent cure for missing eyes.”

  “Amusing.” Jurij’s creepy wooden face tilted to one side. “My eyes are here and ordinary, just like every other man’s.”