by Lily Velez
Noah would only shrug and continue loading the horse wagon.
His mother perpetually frowned at the obvious distance between the two. “You were both getting on so well,” she’d say. “I don’t understand why the current circumstances should change that.”
Another time, he and his brothers were breaking down an old well that had long dried up near the forest. As they alternated turns taking swings at the stone structure, his brothers discussed Jeremie’s intentions with Camilla.
“It’s not that I ever thought Camilla unmarriageable,” Elliot said. He checked himself. “Well, not frequently at least. It’s just that I never thought any man would take her seriously.”
“Least of all someone like Jeremie,” Colin said. “But then I suppose it’s true that love makes us men fools.”
It was Noah’s turn to swing, but Colin’s employment of the word ‘love’ stopped him. Love? Jeremie didn’t love Camilla. He couldn’t possibly. Camilla meanwhile thought she was in love with anyone who gave her attention, so any amorous feelings on her part could hardly be submitted as evidence of some burgeoning romance.
Yes, Jeremie spent hours speaking with her these days, but Noah couldn’t even begin to imagine what he spoke with her about. Did he, for instance, confide in her with regard to his most prized treasures, those ancient and peculiar books he collected, wondering aloud about the hands they must’ve passed through before ultimately finding a home with him? Did he share his countless legends and myths about horseshoes and saints and heavenly bodies while his voice assumed a hush as if speaking of hallowed things? Did he describe the many pilgrimages he hoped to one day take and why he held them so dearly to his heart? Did he tell her about binder’s marks, and did he show her exactly what form his own mark would take and where readers could find it?
Noah fixed his gaze on the remaining fragment of the well, a knee-height chunk of stone jutting out from the earth like a crooked tooth, the last reminder that anything had been there at all. He tightened his hands, twisted his body, and curved the sledgehammer behind him. Then he struck the stone in so powerful a blow, it exploded on impact, jagged pieces catapulting into the air like cannonballs.
When the dust cleared, both his brothers were staring at him. They’d decided they understood Jeremie and Noah’s distance quite well after that. “You never pursue a friend’s sister,” was their conclusion. “Not if you don’t want trouble.”
Margaux had differing theories.
“Has he some terrible vice?” she asked him one day.
“Is his family abominable?”
“Did you discover he’s already engaged to be married to another?”
Every so often, she’d wander into the barn to present her newest theory, and they grew more and more colorful with time.
Noah permitted them to wonder what they would, though he wished they would simply drop the matter entirely. All this talk over a dissolved friendship made him feel like the thick paper in which Avignon’s boatmen would daily wrap their fresh catches—the same paper that was later discarded by market-goers once it’d served its purpose.
Nonetheless, his mother and father often committed themselves to reviving the friendship. During one supper, Noah’s father had asked Jeremie after his horse. “How are the shoes that Noah crafted holding up?”
Noah, seeing the question for what it was, kept his eyes diverted and continued stirring his stew, guiding the edge of the spoon along the curve of the bowl, focusing on the rasping sound emitted.
“Very well,” Jeremie responded. “Though I certainly had no doubt about them.”
What was this—a compliment? If so, Noah knew he should be glad for it, but it did little to change his mood, and besides, Jeremie quickly veered the conversation into talk of other matters soon after.
Another evening, his mother, who was convinced Jeremie only felt he needed to devote the entirety of his attention to Camilla lest he come off as negligent, took her turn at the sport as they were finishing their meal. “Do you find you’re able to manage the bookshop on your own well enough, Jeremie? Should you require Noah’s help at any point, you need only ask. I’m sure he’d be happy to offer his assistance, as he has in the past.”
Noah had immediately wished he could simply vanish into the air. He bit into a buttered portion of baguette, flakes of crust sprinkling onto the tablecloth, and tried to manage the rising tension in his neck and shoulders.
“That’s a kind offer, thank you,” Jeremie said. “Your family has been so kind already. I couldn’t possibly ask more of you. And in any case, maintaining the shop is little trouble now that everything’s set up.”
Noah resolved to be content with these responses. If this was the way Jeremie wished to have it, then so be it. He counted himself a fool for believing they had ever truly been friends, but then, men were fools for more incriminating things, he supposed.
It wasn’t long before Noah began to entertain the idea that perhaps Jeremie had only been using him all this time as a way to get to Camilla. It made perfect sense the more he considered it. Noah, while frugal with his words, was certainly the more accessible entry point into the family. His brothers would’ve surely only given Jeremie trouble, and Jeremie obviously couldn’t speak with the girls outright.
He turned the notion over and over again in his mind. To be used…it was enough to make a person feel less than human. As such, he could hardly stomach Jeremie’s presence these days. He’d clearly misread Jeremie’s actions in the bookshop, which embarrassed and confused him, and Jeremie’s present behavior left him feeling almost…abandoned, which only embarrassed and confused him further.
His family would often read from the Scriptures in the evenings, and one particular line had stuck out to Noah: If you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins. It was far easier said than done. Especially when you hadn’t done anything wrong. Especially when the one truly at fault no longer acknowledged you.
It was Camilla, however, who most irritated him. Jeremie soon became the sun around which everything in her universe faithfully revolved, and she was certain to tell everyone about it.
“Jeremie has a wonderful eye for flowers,” she’d bragged once as she arranged a colorful bouquet Jeremie had given her into a vase at the dining table’s center. “I’m hardly surprised.”
Or, “Jeremie’s bookshop is doing so well. He’s clearly an astute businessman. He’ll no doubt be incredibly successful in life. I can tell these things.”
Or, “Did you know just how well traveled Jeremie truly is? He’s seen such a host of cities. It’s no wonder he has the intellect that he does. He must see the same in me.”
Jeremie, Jeremie, Jeremie it was for her. Anything else in the world had ceased to exist. Noah thought it could’ve easily been a Philippe, Philippe, Philippe or a Henri, Henri, Henri. Camilla had made it clear long ago that any suitor would do. She simply wanted to be married before her next birthday.
She pranced about the farm every day with ribbons in her hair, singing off-key to herself, glowing like the sun.
“Why don’t you actually feed the chickens while you’re singing,” Colin suggested in passing once, “instead of just standing there, watching the road for when Jeremie comes?”
She scoffed at him. “Perhaps the lot of you should begin taking on my chores,” she said. “I’m sure it won’t be long before I have a household of my own to manage. I’ll be gone for good, and then what will you do?”
“Then it’ll be our turn to start singing for joy!”
She grabbed a fistful of chicken feed and hurled it at his backside as he continued on his way, laughing.
Noah, in time, began to feel as if he were dematerializing. He’d watch from inside the barn as his siblings laughed on the porch and enjoyed each other’s company, Jeremie among them, and he’d know he couldn’t approach their sacred circle, not without anyone feeling the wall between him and Jeremie, and certainly not
without anyone asking after it. How had it happened, that a stranger had become so intertwined with the members of Noah’s family in so little time while Noah had spent all his life—and spent it still—trying to understand how he fit into this family and why he belonged? Here he was again, the friendless one, the odd one among his siblings, and Jeremie had been the one to draw the emphasis this time.
It certainly didn’t lessen the insult Noah already felt.
Not a word to Noah all these weeks. Not even a look. All those assertions about Noah’s silence not bothering him…empty words. Lies.
So let him be a liar. Let Camilla be a nuisance. Perhaps they were more suited for each other than anyone knew. It didn’t mean Noah had to offer his blessing, nor did it mean he had to wait around to spectate the circus act.
There was no telling how much longer this torture would elapse, and one day during the last week of August, as he examined the farmland from his hill, leaning against the sessile oak, he decided he rather not find out. It was on him to relieve his own suffering lest he go mad.
So he would.
20
The sun was setting, a golden eye peeking over the horizon, when Noah found Margaux removing laundry from the clothesline behind the farmhouse. Glowing bars of fire striped the pumpkin-colored sky as a soothing breeze shepherded raspberry clouds home.
Noah remembered a bedtime story his mother had told him once about the merchantmen of the skies and how the clouds were the sails of their mighty vessels. He’d watch those sails carefully back then, wondering if the ship’s crews would ever descend upon the earth, imagining what sort of trade they dealt in, hoping they wouldn’t steal away his ducks.
The wind carried with it the scent of supper, which wafted from the kitchen and filled Noah’s lungs with onions and peppers and garlic. It was soothing. Or at least it was soothing until Camilla’s laughter erupted from inside, no doubt incited by something Jeremie had said. Noah thought he might burst apart at the seams.
There must’ve been something on his face that betrayed his irritation, for when Margaux finally noticed him, the first thing she asked was, “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. He would have to wear his mask better, and he would, but for now, he required Margaux’s assistance with a crisis of another sort. He’d come to her because she had the unique ability to guess at his words without his ever actually having to speak them. She was deeply perceptive in that way, or as his mother might say, intuitive. She could read a person’s face and easily determine the earnestness in their heart. It had its benefits. It had its embarrassments, too, such as when a nine-year-old Margaux had jabbed a finger in a corn-peddler’s direction in the market one day, accusing him of selling produce far older than he claimed it to be.
Noah also felt he and Margaux shared a special kinship. Like him, Margaux had come into their family as a small child, following the death of her grandparents. Of course, in her case, she’d simply wandered barefoot onto the farm one afternoon, where she started playing with the sheep like it was right where she was supposed to be.
Thinking on it, Noah looked toward the sheep pastures. The animals grazed peacefully under the dusking skies, their shaven bodies slightly lit by the coral glow of the horizon.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? We have the most stunning views.”
Noah saw an opportunity. He seized it. “Only views.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged.
Margaux continued retrieving laundry from the clothesline, shirts and aprons billowing in the breeze like standards in a royal procession. She daintily pulled each garment down, folded it neatly in the air, and then added it to the growing pile in her basket with a gentle pat. “You want more than views,” she stated after a few moments. She always just knew.
“I understand completely. Whenever Jeremie talks of Paris or the countless other places he’s traveled to, I feel this stirring inside me. An appetite, you could say. It’s made me realize I couldn’t possibly only ever live in Avignon alone. I want to visit other places. I want to meet other kinds of people. I’m curious now, and it’s the type of curiosity that will always be with me. You feel the same way, don’t you? Restless.”
Restless, yes, but for a completely different reason. Still, he nodded.
“Where’s the first place you’d go, you think?”
Jeremie had asked him that once. He’d been counting on Margaux to ask as well, though he was no less struck by the similarity of their words once she had.
“Lyon, perhaps.” His chest shook as he uttered the words. He’d never told any of his kin about his desire to go there. He could hardly believe he’d done so now. A part of him wanted to retrieve the words the moment they’d filled the air.
“That’s right. I imagine Aimee would love to finally have your help. When Elliot and Colin have finished with the harvest, I’m sure they’d split your chores between them. Then you can at long last see about Lyon.”
Noah knew he couldn’t wait until then. His mouth shifted slightly, a thin slanted line.
“You don’t think they would?”
He told her it wasn’t that.
“Oh, I see. You’d feel bad, wouldn’t you, leaving behind your work like that? You really shouldn’t. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more from life. At least I don’t think so.” She finished with the last of the garments and then sat on the basket, massaging her shoulders.
“You should speak with Papá and Mamá after the fall butchering. They’ll be in exceptionally good spirits with the winter’s food secured. I have no doubt they’d grant you your wish then.”
Noah hesitated.
“Too soon? What about after winter? They’ll better understand then, don’t you think? Who would question one’s restlessness when he’s been cooped up inside for so many months?” She laughed in her light and airy way. It sounded like wind chimes.
Any other day, it might’ve calmed him. Now, he tilted his head to the sky and let out a breath. Inside the farmhouse, someone was setting the table, dishes, cups, and silverware singing their song as they clinked against each other. He didn’t know how he’d bear with another supper with Jeremie.
“Wait. You don’t mean to tell them as soon as possible, do you?”
His attention snapped back to her. She’d guessed it. God be thanked, now he could get to the real heart of the issue.
Before he could, though, she squinted and studied him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Jeremie and Camilla, does it?”
He nearly lost his façade at the question. Had she observed it? Did she know? His pulse throbbed at his temple.
Margaux only frowned. She looked years younger. “It really is unfortunate how distant you two have become. I preferred it when you were friends, when I could join you both for a pleasant conversation and have a laugh or two. Camilla isn’t as generous. She hogs Jeremie all to herself, even if Genevieve and I are right there with her. It’s rather cruel, if you ask me.”
Noah didn’t know what to say to such a confession, so he said nothing at all. He did briefly wonder what Margaux read in Jeremie’s face at such times, if she’d ever dared to inquire into their broken friendship from the culprit himself, but he knew none of his kin would, as it would only embarrass Noah, so he pushed the issue aside.
“What do you mean to tell the others?”
He admitted he hadn’t the slightest idea. That’s why he needed her help. If she could perhaps furnish him with the right words, then he could persuade their mother and father to allow him leave from his duties on the farm.
“I don’t know,” she said. “You won’t be able to reason with Mamá. She’ll be so heartbroken. You are, always have been, and always will be her baby.”
Noah well knew. It was embarrassing the way his mother doted on him, especially in front of his brothers.
“Are you going to coddle him like that forever?” they’d tease.
She’d swat a hand in their direction and
tell them to hush, insisting she possessed no favorites.
“Besides, why should you have to leave? Do you really find the situation so intolerable? Do you loathe Jeremie now? It’s what Elliot and Colin say.”
“I don’t.” The claim surprised him, though. Did he? There was a certain falseness in his words, but he didn’t know why.
“Then stay. I’d miss you terribly. Or does that not matter?”
He assured her it did, and he could tell she believed him. He could also see she sensed his disquietness more than ever.
Undeterred, she made one last effort. “Couldn’t you at least wait some time? The whole thing may very well blow over.”
“Margaux,” he said softly, “Please.” Every bit of his exhaustion and agony bled into the request, and their eyes met for a single, sacred moment between brother and sister.
Her frame drooped. Even so, she said, “Very well.” Her inflection had a slope, and the words tumbled down its incline, defeated. She stood and gathered the basket in her arms.
Then she straightened. “If you’d like to be on your way, then there’s no point in putting the matter off. We should speak with Papá and Mamá at once. This very moment, in fact. And if you want to take your best shot at the situation, then I might as well speak on your behalf.”
This gave him pause. “You’d do that?”
“We both know you’d fail marvelously if left to your own devices in this,” she said, attaching a hand to his arm with an impish smile. “It’s the least I can do.”
He told her he didn’t know what to say.
“Say I’m your favorite sister.” She propped her laundry basket onto her hip and then linked her free arm with his. “Away, then, shall we? Your freedom is just within reach.”
She laughed the entire way to the farmhouse, and for the first time in a while, he felt heartened. Margaux would surely win this battle on his behalf. In no time, he would be long gone from this place, as far away from Jeremie as he dared.
21