by Mary Akers
“I’ll be alright,” he said nonchalantly. “If it gets really bad, I’ve got the rope, remember?”
“You really have turned out all manly and tough, Trig. When did that happen?” Elora mused as she climbed down.
“Such flattery! Why Elora Kerrick, I think you might fancy me! Should I write you a letter instead?” he teased.
“Very funny,” she chided. “But I saw you kiss Lizbeth Ganther behind the schoolhouse when we were 12, remember? No, thank you!” Elora said, laughing.
“Hey! That was years ago! I’ve improved a lot since then,” he cried.
“For Alysa’s sake, I certainly hope so!” she shot back as she reached the ground.
Trig chuckled. “You’re a good friend, Elora!” he called, as she started off towards home.
“Write that letter!” she shouted back, a smile on her lips.
Elora opted to skip the market for today having seen the storm for herself, but she intended to search out the Highlander merchant tomorrow. Sometimes amongst the stone and metal goods from the mountains, there were also carvings and trinkets all the way from the Woodlands. They were far too expensive for Elora to ever consider buying, but she could touch and look at them, at least temporarily satisfying her fascination.
She had, for as long as she could remember, been enchanted by the Woodlands. She doubted she would ever see them in person, particularly in light of the fact that she never intended to leave Windom, but she was enthralled nonetheless. That’s probably why she had those vivid daydreams.
As she made her way home, her mind drifted back to her latest visit to the forest. More specifically, to the moment he had touched her hand, the man who had called to her with such familiarity. Her hand tingled and her stomach flipped as she remembered the sensation of it. She tried desperately to recall the sound of his voice, replaying her dream over and over. She remembered how rich and deep and intoxicating it had been, but the sound itself was lost. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to hear that sound again! She smiled, hoping that her next daydream would be as exciting.
Elora, at long last, finally reached the small plot of land that belonged to her family. It was bordered by a low fence made of mortar and stone. Elora swung open the wrought iron front gate and paused to admire the flowers lining the walkway to the front door. Her mother could make anything grow.
The storm clouds were already overhead, blocking the last remaining rays of the light from the setting sun. Elora could see the glow of candlelight in the cracks around the front door. The window flaps were already tied down in preparation for the storm and she could hear her parents laughing from within the house. The comforting feelings of home settled around her as she reached out to open the latch. She paused, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as she let all the concerns of the day fall away.
“Elora.”
She heard her name spoken gently in the low, rich tones of the voice she longed to hear. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, looking around her. But there was no one. She sighed. “If only my real life were as exciting as my daydreams,” she thought, unlatching the door and walking inside as the first raindrops began to fall.
Chapter 2
The next morning Elora rose early so that she could visit the market before heading to the interior gardens for work. She had been tending the gardens for nearly a year and with her mother as a mentor, she excelled at it. Her mother had worked in the gardens for as long as Elora could remember. Watching her nurture the plants with skillful hands, knowledge and instinct, Elora had naturally inherited a love of horticulture.
The air was muggy and hot after the storm over night. Elora walked carefully on the path toward the town square, slipping through muddy patches and dodging puddles along the way. The market was relatively quiet this early, though most vendors had already set out their goods. She walked along the rows of familiar merchants, thinking that perhaps Trig had been wrong about a Highlander wagon. But just as she was about to abandon her pursuit, she noticed an unfamiliar man wheeling a large trunk towards an open space among the last row of vendors. Behind him was a light haired young man carrying a small table. The two set to work, laying out a fine linen cloth and carefully displaying the contents of the trunk.
Elora felt giddy with the anticipation of seeing something new. She feigned interest in a horse bridle on a table nearby, stalling so as not to seem too eager. The table’s merchant, Thomas Wiggins, looked at her curiously, knowing that she didn’t have a horse, and began opening his mouth to say as much. She dropped it quickly, smiling sheepishly at him, and decided to abandon any semblance of restraint and give in to her curiosity. As she neared the Highlander’s table, she had to surreptitiously cover her mouth with her hand to hide her smile, such was her excitement. There were gorgeous trinkets with various stones and gems that had been mined from the Highland mountains. There were rings and bracelets; necklaces and pins; a beautiful wooden pen with a sharp metal nib. She saw pelts from animals she’d never known existed. He had so many amazing things on display. At last her eyes fell on a necklace the likes of which she’d never seen before. The merchant had been absentmindedly watching while she surveyed his goods, but as she lifted the necklace for a closer look, he froze and his gaze shifted to Elora’s face.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s a necklace,” he replied stoically.
“No, I know that much,” she sighed. “I mean this charm. It looks like a seed of some sort,” she suggested.
“It’s just a seed. Came from one of the trees in the Woodlands,” he replied.
He was watching her very carefully and it made her acutely uncomfortable. He was an intimidating figure, rough and ruddy from days in the sun. He was large and burly, with long brown hair tied back at his neck. His thick beard was short and peppered with gray, and he rubbed it subconsciously as he appraised her.
“How much?” she asked.
Elora rarely purchased such novelties, but something about this necklace called to her. The charm was a small brown seed, oblong and shaped almost like a teardrop, slightly bigger than her thumbnail. It was pierced by a small ring on one end and threaded onto a simple chain. That seed was so familiar somehow. She needed to have it.
“10 dollars,” he replied gruffly.
He watched her, gauging just how much she wanted the necklace.
She couldn’t pay that. She only made 5 dollars a week working in the gardens. How could she justify spending two weeks’ wages on a seed attached to a chain? But she couldn’t seem to put it down.
“Will you take 5?” she asked, hopefully.
“I’ll take 7,” he countered with a sigh.
Still so expensive! Was this small trinket worth more than a week working in the hot sun, on her knees, her hands in the dirt, sweat dripping from her brow? She could hardly believe it when she decided that yes, it really was.
“I’ll take it.”
She reached into the coin purse tied to the waistband of her pants and pulled out her hard-earned money. She felt guilty handing it over, thinking of what her father would say, but she couldn’t muster an ounce of regret.
The merchant nodded, taking the money.
She unhooked the clasp and bent her head to fasten it behind her neck as she turned to go. The merchant still had his gaze fixed to her. She smiled uncomfortably and walked quickly away, fingering the small seed that now rested below the hollow of her throat. She tucked it beneath the neck of her tunic, putting it safely out of view lest her mother notice. They disapproved of her fascination with the Woodlands and she certainly didn’t want to own up to how much she had paid for it.
She made her way out of the town square, heading toward the interior gardens on the far side of Windom. The fields would be a muddy mess today. It was time to harvest the last of the vegetables and she was making a mental checklist of things that needed to be done. The sun was already h
igh in the sky and her steps quickened as she thought about the misery before her if she didn’t get her work finished before the heat of the day reached its peak.
The oppressive humidity started taking its toll and sweat began dripping from her face. She could feel it trickling down her back, tickling her skin. She reached behind her to rub away the itch and briefly recalled the birthmark located in just that spot. She’d been self-conscious about it ever since becoming aware of it as a child. Fortunately, Windom culture encouraged more conservative attire and so only her parents even knew of it. Occasionally her father would affectionately brush his hand over the spot in passing. Elora couldn’t really see the birthmark, as it was located over her spine midway up her back, so she rarely thought about it. But as she rubbed at the itch it suddenly dawned on her. That’s where she’d seen that shape before. She saw it every time she turned her back to the mirror. The seed on her necklace was identical to her birthmark.
The day continued on, uneventful and just as muddy and uncomfortable as Elora had imagined. As the sun finally began its downward path and the heat became truly unbearable, Elora’s mother Winifred Kerrick, who managed the interior gardens, finally rang the bell for dismissal. Elora stood and stretched her back, working out the tension in her muscles and breathing a sigh of relief that the work day was over. Walking over to the supply barn to wash up, she smiled at her mother who was ringing the giant bell a second time to ensure that everyone heard.
“I don’t think anyone missed it, Mom. We’ve all been waiting for you to ring that thing for hours now,” she teased.
Her mother laughed.
“It really was a miserable day, wasn’t it?” she said, reaching out to adjust Elora’s braid, affectionately running her hand down the silky length of it. “Are you reconsidering your choice in occupation, dearest? Would you rather be indoors sewing dresses like Alysa?”
“Not in a million years.” Elora replied with conviction. “I just wish it didn’t always have to be so hot!”
“You’d think after 19 years here I’d be used to the heat, but it really is just awful,” her mother agreed.
“It wasn’t like this where you come from?” she asked.
Her mother almost never mentioned her life before Windom. A fact that made Elora desperately curious.
“No,” she smiled, her eyes unfocused as she remembered a far-off time and place. “There are beautiful places that are nothing like the Grasslands,” she waxed nostalgically, before quickly checking herself. “But this is our home and it has its own beauty about it,” she said gently.
Elora smiled to cover her disappointment. She knew that was as much information as her mother would give away and truthfully, even that little lapse was more than she usually revealed. Her parents were very committed to leaving the past behind them for some reason. After 19 years of trying Elora still hadn’t plied the truth from them and she doubted she ever would.
“I don’t think this basin of water is going to make much difference considering how enthusiastically you threw yourself into work today, Elora,” teased her mother.
Elora laughed. She really was filthy.
“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll head home for a proper bath and some clean clothes. Do you need me to start supper?”
“I wouldn’t mind if you’d peel some potatoes,” her mother replied.
“See you in a while?” Elora asked.
Winifred smiled and nodded.
Elora turned to go but halted when she heard her mother call out to her.
“Hey Elora! Why don’t you dust off your pants a bit. We need some of that dirt to grow the vegetables!” she said, chuckling at her own joke.
“You’re hilarious!” Elora laughed back.
But looking down at her pants, she groaned as she realized that there were huge clumps of mud stuck to each knee. She brushed off her legs as best she could, casting her mother an irritated look which only made her laugh harder. She hadn’t decided yet if she loved or hated working alongside her mom.
She slowly trudged home along the roads, carefully picking her way through the ruts created by the wagons as they had struggled through the mud that morning. She fingered the seed on her new necklace absentmindedly as she walked. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it all day. She felt connected to it somehow.
“What kind of tree did this seed come from?” she wondered.
A movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and she looked to see a young man with light blonde hair. He quickly turned and headed out of view down a side road. She paused, staring at the intersection where the man had disappeared. She had seen him before. He had been working for the Highlander merchant this morning. He certainly had wandered far from the market. She felt a sudden uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Was he following her? Had he been watching her all day?
“Hey!” she called, walking back a few paces to look down the road, but he was nowhere to be seen.
She shook her head, puzzled and a little nervous. Being alone on a country road suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea. Elora decided to jog the rest of the way home, looking back every few minutes to see if she had company. The man never reappeared and she breathed a sigh of relief when the front gate to her house finally came into view.
She took off her muddy boots on the porch and quickly went inside. She slid the bolt on the door and slumped back against it, panting and wiping the sweat from her face. She quietly chuckled at herself, dismissing her nervous feelings as yet another instance in which she let her overactive imagination run away with her. Shaking her head, she stood and made her way back toward the bathroom to wash away the evidence of her muddy day’s work.
Slipping out of her pants and tunic, Elora paused a moment in front of the mirror in her underclothes. She reached behind her neck, unlatching the clasp of the necklace and then held the seed up to examine it more closely. It was exquisite. There were ridges curling an intricate design across the entire surface of the seed, almost as though someone had carved into it. It looked nothing like any seed she’d ever seen before. Turning, she lifted the back of her chemise until she had revealed her birthmark. She held the necklace so that the seed dangled just next to the mark. They were identical, at least in shape and size. Her birthmark was simple and plain, while the seed was delicate and elegant. It thrilled her for some reason she couldn’t grasp and she smiled.
Placing the necklace on her dresser, she grabbed her favorite sage green dress and fresh underthings and hurried to the bathroom to clean up. She was due to meet Alysa in the square before dinner and she was anxious to know if her meddling had done any good.
A long while later, a clean Elora with her long wet hair twisted into a braid came rushing in to slip on her sandals and hastily fasten her necklace. She ran down the short hall to the front door but slid to a stop when she noticed her mother sitting at the kitchen table, quietly reading.
“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in!” she exclaimed, trotting back to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m so late! I lost track of time.”
“You and your long baths,” her mom replied with a knowing smile. “I take it you didn’t peel any potatoes.”
Elora gave her a sheepish smile.
“I forgot,” she admitted. “I’m sorry,”
“It’s alright. Go on,” her mother said indulgently. “Give Alysa a hug for me.”
“Thanks! Love you! See you for dinner!” Elora shouted, accidently slamming the door behind her as she took off at a run.
But she didn’t run for long. It was late-summer and the days were at their longest. The sky was still bright despite the fact that evening was fast approaching. The heat was oppressive. Elora didn’t want to sweat through her clean clothes, so she slowed to a brisk walk. She peeked up at the clock tower in the middle of the square. She was so late. Alysa probably wouldn’t care, but Elora f
elt awful anyway. She hadn’t meant to linger so long in the bath, but she’d closed her eyes for just a moment and found herself transported to the forest again. She couldn’t resist waiting and hoping for the mysterious caller to make an appearance. Sadly, he hadn’t and by the time she realized how long she’d been dreaming, she was already 20 minutes late. The whole thing was disappointing in so many ways.
Alysa lived near the center of town, perhaps a 20-minute walk from Elora’s house. She was quickly rounding the corner to Alysa’s street, looking up at the clock once again, when she ran straight into the hard chest of a man hurrying in the opposite direction. She would have fallen had he not grabbed her arms. Startled, she looked up to find Trig peering down at her with an expression of concern.
“Is your face okay?” he asked. “I think you stabbed me with your nose!” he teased, rubbing his chest where they’d collided.
She laughed, gently touching her nose, which, truth be told, hurt a little.
“I’ll live,” she said. “Sorry about that. I’m late to meet up with Alysa and wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It’s ok. It was my fault too,” he admitted. “I was walking pretty fast myself.”
Elora looked up at him quizzically and then peeked behind him at Alysa’s house.
“Trig Davenport, are you running away?” Elora cried.
He hung his head, embarrassed, and shrugged sheepishly.
“I’m scared to see her,” he confessed. “I left a letter with her father earlier, which was terrifying in its own right I’ll have you know. And then I saw her arrive home just a few minutes ago. So now I’m getting as far away as I can. I don’t think I can handle it if she rejects me, Elora,” he said, a desperate look in his eyes. “I’m so pathetic,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.
Elora put a comforting hand on his arm and smiled reassuringly.