A Path Toward Home (The Annals of Avonea)

by Lorenz, Heather

  “Rosella, do you want one too?” Drinian asked, seeing that Rosella was standing in the corner licking her lips.

  Rosella wrinkled up her nose with delight as she took the cookie from Drinian.

  “Where is Warrick, Mrs. Monroe?” Drinian asked, as he stood up.

  “Oh, he has finally found work Your Majesty, working in the fields,” Mrs. Monroe replied.

  “I am glad to hear that. Oh, and where are my manners, Mrs. Monroe? This is Constance,” Drinian announced.

  “Constance, what a beautiful name! Your Majesty did not tell me that you were betrothed.”

  “Oh, no...,” Drinian said, trying to interrupt her.

  “We must have a feast to celebrate!”

  “Oh no, you are mistaken. We are not engaged at all,” Constance said hastily.

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I am simply helping her return to her world,” Drinian added.

  “Oh my, what a pickle I've gotten myself into this time,” Mrs. Monroe exclaimed. “Well at least Reagan will be …., I mean you should really go visit Reagan while your here, she would enjoy that.”

  Drinian hesitated but finally answered, “I will have to do that.”

  “And I do hope you will stay the night Your Majesty.”

  “Will that be alright?” Drinian asked Woodphere, who was standing in the doorway.

  “Indeed, thank you, we will accept your offer,” Woodphere replied.

  At that moment a petite young woman swept into the room. She was beautiful with long black hair which flowed to her waist, and had dark eyes, with extremely long eye-lashes.

  “Drinian, you have come!” She exclaimed with a coy smile.

  “Reagan …. I haven’t seen you in ages,” Drinian replied without enthusiasm.

  “Yes, it has been at least four months. How long will you be staying?”

  “Only tonight and tomorrow night.”

  Reagan was so absorbed with Drinian that Constance didn't think Reagan even noticed her or Woodphere.

  “Reagan, this is Constance, and you already know Woodphere,” Drinian said, breaking the silence.

  “Oh … It is a pleasure to meet you, Constance,” Reagan stammered, with disappointment in her voice.

  “Drinian is taking Constance back to her world,” Mrs. Monroe craftily spoke, hinting that Drinian and Constance were not courting.

  “Really, so where do you live Constance?” Reagan asked, with obvious delight.

  “In Canada,” Constance replied.

  “Canada, I do not remember that country.”

  “It's very far from here,” Constance replied.

  Suddenly Constance felt a nudge in her side.

  “Are you a princess of your country?” Rosella asked. “Because if you are, you and Drinian could get married.”

  “Rosella!” Mrs. Monroe exclaimed, giving her a stern glance.

  An awkward silence followed. Constance noticed from the corner of her eye that Reagan was biting her lip with a very worried expression on her face.

  “No, I'm not a princess Rosella, but thank you very much for thinking so,” Constance replied.

  “Well, let me get supper going, we’re going to have a feast tonight,” proclaimed Mrs. Monroe.

  “Rosella, run out to the smoke house and get that big side of prized goat.”

  “Yes, mama,” Rosella replied, skipping outside.

  “Mrs. Monroe, Drinian and I shall go and visit the villagers while you prepare the meal, if that is alright with you,” Woodphere said.

  “That is most fine with me, supper will be exactly at 6:00 p.m.,” Mrs. Monroe replied, while washing carrots in a basin of cold water.

  “Do you wish to come along, Constance?” Drinian asked.

  “I think I'll stay here, and help with supper, if I'm not imposing on Mrs. Monroe.”

  “Of course you may stay, but there is no need for you to help, Reagan will assist me.”

  “No, please let me help. I will get lazy, if I don't do anything.”

  “You actually should let Constance help you, for it would not do any good arguing with her. I know that she would win anyway,” Drinian said, giving Constance a playful grin.

  “Alright, I certainly do not want you to feel useless.” Mrs. Monroe responded.

  “Well, we shall be off ladies,” Woodphere said, bowing and exiting the house with Drinian at his side.

  “Here, mama!” Rosella said, running into the house lugging a huge side of goat that was virtually as big as she was.

  “Good, now be a big girl and go up into the attic and get some, beans, potatoes and turnips,” Mrs. Monroe instructed.

  “Here let me help you with that, that's a big load for you to carry,” Constance offered.

  “I'm used to it,” Rosella replied, stepping up the ladder to the attic.

  Constance following behind her, found the attic to be surprisingly large, for such a small house. On one side were bedrolls that were rolled out on the floor, and on the other side were piles of boxes, sacks of vegetables and dried herbs hanging from the rafters.

  “I do a lot of carrying for mama, since she has a bad back. Razelle cannot carry anything of course, and Papa's always gone during the day.”

  “You have a lot of responsibility for a girl your age.”

  “Not really, I am almost seven. Oh, do you want to see my secret hiding place?” Rosella asked, her eyes glistening.

  “If you show me, it won't be a secret anymore,” Constance replied.

  “I don't mind if you see it, I trust you.”

  Rosella lead Constance into the far off corner of the attic where a few crates were tightly gathered together, leaving a small hole which was scarcely noticeable.

  “This is my secret hiding place where I keep all my dearest treasures” Rosella whispered, picking up a miniature wooden box that was tucked in the opening. It was a very beautiful, with flower designs carved in the middle, and little jewels engraved on the top.

  “Drinian made this for my birthday. I keep my secret possessions in here, and I’ve never shown anyone except for my doll, Annie.”

  Rosella carefully opened the little box. It contained a pink shell, a smooth pebble, a blue bead, a yellow ribbon, and a piece of red brightly colored material.

  “My papa saved this shell for me from the time we were at sea when I was but a baby. I picked up this stone near the river; look how sparkly it is!”

  “Yes, that is very pretty,” Constance complimented.

  “This bead is from an old bracelet Reagan found. It used to glisten, but now it's a dull blue,” Rosella said, placing the bead in Constance’s hand.

  Rosella, picking up another object, said “My mama gave me this ribbon which she saved from when she was a little girl.”

  “And finally my most treasured item!” Rosella exclaimed, pulling out a piece of red fabric.

  “This is a scrap from my old Christmas dress which my sister made for me.”

  “You have another sister besides Lilly?” Constance asked.

  “I used to, she drowned in a heavy current one day when she was washing clothes, but that was a long time ago.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Ten.”

  “I can see why it's so special to you.”

  “I wish I had the whole dress, but after Honesty died mama didn't want anything around that reminded her of Honesty, so she ….”

  “Rosella, what are you doing up there?” Mrs. Monroe called.

  “I'm showing Constance something.”

  “Well hurry with the vegetables, the water’s boiling.”

  Rosella sighed and continued talking, “Mama burnt all of Honesty's dresses and toys, and this is the only piece I found after the fire had gone out.”

  Constance didn’t know what to say to Rosella. She had experienced so much hurt in life, but yet she still acted as if nothing in her life had ever gone wrong.

  “Come on, we better get those vegetables down to mama before sh
e gets upset.”

  “I kind of know how you feel Rosella. My mother died when I was young,” Constance said as she picked up a sack of potatoes.

  “Really? How did it happen?”

  “She was hit by a truck.”

  “Oh how terrible. What is a truck?”

  “I forget that you don't have automobiles here. Well... a truck is a wagon without a horse.”

  “How can a wagon without a horse move?”

  “It's a little hard to explain.”

  Rosella and Constance quietly climbed down to the kitchen with their load of vegetables.

  “What were you two doing up there?”

  “Rosella was showing me something.”

  “Well please come over here now and chop some carrots for me Rosella.”

  “I can do it,” Constance offered, picking up the knife that lay on the table.

  “Very well then.”

  “Mother, you will never guess what Constance told me, she told me that in her country they have wagons without horses!”

  “Indeed, wagons without horses? She must have been pulling your leg, Rosella,” Reagan remarked.

  “No honest, tell them Constance.”

  “It is true, we have wagons that move on their own without a horse.” Constance replied.

  “How could that ever be possible?” Mrs. Monroe asked.

  “A man invented the horseless wagon; no one uses horses to pull them anymore.”

  “How strange,” Mrs. Monroe sighed.

  “I still don't believe it,” Reagan muttered as she turned to stir the vegetables.

  “I want to ride on a horseless wagon!” Rosella exclaimed.

  “Maybe someday you will,” Constance replied.

  “Mamma, can I go down to the creek?”

  “Alright, run along, but make sure your back in time for supper.”

  “I will mama.” And with that Rosella quickly ran out of the house.

  Constance sat down and chopped the carrots while listening to Mrs. Monroe and Reagan discuss the weather, local gossip, and the Molters. Suddenly, Constance perked up her ears as the conversation continued.

  “So did Silas come calling today?” Mrs. Monroe asked Reagan.

  “How did you hear?”

  “Mammy May came and told me that Silas was dressed all fancy like, and carrying a bouquet of flowers. She thought he looked to be in the courting mood.”

  “Indeed, but I refused him of course.” responded Regan.

  “But why? Silas is very nice, strong, and handsome.”

  “I don’t like him and I never will!”

  Mrs. Monroe lowered her voice into a whisper that could barely be heard.

  “Is that really a reason, or are you still waiting on a certain proposal?”

  “Yes, but he never seems to notice me,” Reagan replied whispering. “He was paying more attention to you know who than to me.”

  “Do not worry, she will be gone soon,” Mrs. Monroe replied.

  Constance wondered if they were talking about Drinian. She did notice that Reagan never took her eyes off him. But was Constance the one they were talking about?

  “What if she persuades him to love her, then what will I do?” Reagan whispered.

  “Be patient Reagan, I highly doubt that would happen.”

  “You never know, though,” Reagan replied.

  “I finished the carrots,” Constance said, taking the bowel of chopped carrots to Mrs. Monroe.

  “Thank you, Constance,” Mrs. Monroe replied, taking the bowl from her.

  “How many days will it take for you to get to your destination, Constance?” Mrs. Monroe asked?

  “Um... well we first have to get to Moolow which will take at least a day. I don't really know how long after that. Drinian and Woodphere have it all sorted out, which route we are taking.”

  “So have you known Drinian for a long time?” Reagan asked.

  “Actually no, I met him only three days ago.”

  “And do you enjoy each other’s company?”

  “How is that any of your business?” Constance asked, with one eye-brow raised.

  “I was asking you a question, why is it so personal?”

  “Reagan! She obviously does not want to discuss it, she is our guest and we need to treat her like one.” Mrs. Monroe responded with a lecturing tone to her voice.

  Rosella burst in the door and broke the silence, “Mama, guess what! Pete caught a bullfrog down by the river!”

  “Good for him, be sure to congratulate him for me,” Mrs. Monroe replied.

  “I will! Can I tell Razelle, or is he sleeping?”

  “He's resting right now, but you can tell him later at supper.”

  And with that Rosella dashed back outside.

  “I've never seen anyone so excited, about catching a bullfrog,” Constance said, smiling.

  “They have the grandest time trying to catch bullfrogs. Pete is the first one to catch one this year, so he will get quite a bit of attention from the other children.”

  For the next hour they finished preparing the wonderful supper. By the time Drinian and Woodphere arrived, the meal was sitting hot on the table.

  “My, what are you trying to do to me, make me gain five more pounds?” Woodphere sighed, as he gazed at the table before him.

  “We make sure you do not leave hungry,” Mrs. Monroe laughed

  “Is Warrick back from work yet?” Drinian asked.

  “No, he hasn't been getting back until late after supper. So we do not have to wait for him.”

  They all sat down with Mrs. Monroe sitting at the head of table. Lilly, Constance, and Rosella were to her right, and Reagan, Drinian, and Razelle to her left. Woodphere sat facing Mrs. Monroe at the opposite end of the table. Constance’s heart was stirred as she saw Drinian and Reagan join hands for the mealtime prayer. Reagan had not said anything but her eyes were doing plenty of talking.

  They all closed their eyes while Woodphere spoke a blessing on the food before them. Pleasant conversation then accompanied the tasty meal.

  Reagan

  After supper they went to the sitting room. It contained a large fireplace, two rocking chairs, a small wooden stand, and a worn sofa. Soon Warrick arrived and heartily greeted the guests. He was a man in his early forties with a brown beard and kept an enormous pipe in his mouth. He reminded Constance of Pa from the Little House on the Prairie books.

  When it was bedtime she climbed to the attic with Roselle and Mr. and Mrs. Monroe. Constance assumed the thin mattress she was lying on was filled goose feathers, but for some reason she could not get comfortable. She tried counting sheep, but at two hundred she was still wide awake.

  Constance arose from her mattress and climbed down the ladder quietly, making sure not to awaken Woodphere, Drinian, and Razelle, who were sleeping downstairs. She stepped outside, but to her surprise she was not alone.

  “Reagan! You startled me,” Constance exclaimed, as she stepped from the doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” Reagan replied, not sounding too sympathetic.

  “What are you doing out here, I thought you went home?” Constance asked.

  “I was admiring the stars. What are you doing out here?”

  “I can't sleep; I thought maybe the fresh air may do me some good.”

  There was an awkward silence as both girls stood staring up at the stars.

  “Are you going to keep in contact with Drinian in the future?” Reagan asked randomly.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Constance, let me get straight to the point! Do you have affections for Drinian?”

  “What?” Constance replied, quite alarmed.

  “Do you like Drinian?” Reagan asked, her eyes piercing through Constance.

  “Well, of course I like Drinian; he's a very good friend.”

  “No, I mean do you like him more than a friend?”

  Constance did not reply, but only put her head down, and stared at the ground.

&n
bsp; “You do know that he and I are going to be married.”

  “You’re engaged?” Constance asked, confused.

  “No, but I know he will ask me any day now and I want to make sure you’re not going to interfere.

  “You don’t have to worry about that happening!”

  “Good! Don’t let me catch you flirting with him either. You must promise me that nothing will deepen in your relationship with each other.”

  “I can't promise that Reagan, for who knows the future. I may marry Drinian, and you may marry a pauper, for all I know!” Constance replied bitterly.

  “You may wear fancy clothes, but that doesn’t mean Drinian will fall in love with you!”

  “Reagan, I didn't mean it as harsh as it sounded. I meant you should not count on marrying Drinian because you aren't the only girl in the world who likes him. You shouldn’t wait all your life for a proposal from one man.”

  “You are trying to spite me, because you’re from that other world!” Reagan shouted, and started walking away.

  “Wait Reagan, I don't want this conversation to end this way. Please can we at least part on friendly terms?”

  Reagan stopped. “That won’t happen until you promise me that you won't ever care for Drinian.”

  “I still can't promise that.”

  “Then I have nothing more to say!”

  Constance watched Reagan stalk away. Now they would never be friends. She sat wearily down on the step and hung her head.

  How could anyone be so selfish?

  “Constance what are you doing out here?” came Drinian's voice from behind her.

  “I can't sleep, and it seems that nobody can. Reagan was here a moment ago too,” Constance replied looking up at him.

  “What's the matter?” Drinian asked, as he sat down beside Constance. It was obvious that something was troubling her.

  “Nothing, really.”

  “You can tell me. I’ve only known you three days but, I definitely know when you’re upset, especially when you’re mad at someone,” Drinian said, smiling.

  “If I tell you we might get into another argument.”

  “I do not think so. Our personalities may clash sometimes, but that doesn't mean you can't tell me what’s on your mind,” Drinian said, looking into Constance’s eyes.

  Constance sighed and replied, “It's Reagan, we don't get along at all and she simply hates me.”