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The Move

The loss of the house hit Frank harder than he realized. He tried not to show it, but as he helped Hazel and his grandmother move their things to their new house, he felt as if he was losing another family member. This was the house where his mother had raised him. The walls that had once bounced her beautiful voice around would guard him no longer. The hearth where he had sat to warm both his hands and heart, would be lit by another. The mill, where he'd been taught to turn grains into flour, would turn under another's orders.

         It surprised him how well Grandma Zhang was handling it all. He have expected — and did he dare say hoped? — that she'd march on up to the manor and demand their mill back. Instead, she packed up their things, her eyes distant as she recalled things from before Frank was even born. When he finally asked her about it, Grandma Zhang set down the ripped blanket she was mending and looked him directly in the eye. Frank had a hard time keeping his gaze steady; his grandmother had all his mother's strength and seemingly none of her softness. "Fai, our family is more than this mill," she said. "Now don't you go rolling your eyes!"

Frank steeled his face to stillness as Grandma Zhang began recounting family lore. "Your ancestors fought in the Roman army and then served under the emperors of the Yuan Dynasty. We've lived under greater rulers than Lord Dare and our family has survived the reigns of tougher tyrants. Your ancestors experienced misfortune and fortune and you're still here. Isn't that enough?"

Frank repressed a sigh. He used to lap up his mother's tales that they were descended from Periclymenus, a shape-shifting Greek hero, but now they seemed to be just that: tales. The stories wouldn't help him regain control of the mill or resurrect his dead mother. "Your ancestors survived so that you could be here," Grandma Zhang said. "Don't throw their sacrifices away. Lord Dare can take away our mill, but he cannot take away our dignity."

As Frank gazed at his grandmother, her lips set in a determined line, he felt something in him shift. True, the stories of his heroic ancestors couldn't prevent Lord Dare from abusing his power, but they could give Frank solace. His ancestors had suffered - they'd been displaced, captured in battle, suffered misfortunes — but they'd also smiled, laughed, and loved. One day, Frank could tell his children of how proud they should be of their ancestors.

        The thought cheered Frank up. There would be children — there would be a future. The Zhang family had managed the mill for three generations, but they would survive beyond it.

***

      "Saying goodbye?"

      Frank looked over his shoulder, tearing his gaze from the large, stone mill. His wife stood a few feet away, her face set in a sad smile. Throughout the move, she had not blamed him once, insisting that Lord Dare was at fault. "Yes," Frank said. "It feels weird that I won't be the one doing this anymore. I grew up milling flour."

     Hazel stepped closer to him and threaded her fingers in his own. "I know it is a big change," she said.

       Frank sighed. Losing the mill was not as hard as losing his mother or father, but it was just one more blow in a life mired by loss. "I wanted to teach my children to run the mill," Frank said.

       He felt Hazel squeeze his hand. "Maybe they will."

    The slanting light from the setting sun illuminated her golden eyes and made her cinnamon-colored hair look burnished. A smile cut into her cheeks. "I know you're going through a lot, but I have some good news."

    Frank's throat felt dry. Was she going to announce what he thought? "I'm expecting," Hazel said.

      Frank didn't question how she knew. He felt a brier flash of fears: there would be another miscarriage or worse — that he'd lose her in childbirth. He pushed down his fears and took his wife in his arms, kissing the top of her forehead. Exuberant, he lifted her off the ground and spun around before setting her gently down.

     The melancholy mood has passed like night into day. Hazel was laughing, her face glowing in happiness. Frank couldn't find it in himself to let worries cloud this constellation of joy, so he smiled and hoped for the future.

***

      Frank slept badly the first night in their new house. Lord Dare had dispossessed them of their mill without compensation, forcing them to sell most of their furniture to pay for this one-room house with dirt floors and a thatched roof that leaked. The hay-stuffed mattress they'd procured left Frank's back sore.

    The upside of an uncomfortable sleeping situation was that he was not tempted to sleep in. He woke up even before Hazel and went to the well to fetch water. It was early spring and the sun had not yet chased the night's chill away. Frank tightened his cloak around his chest and trudged to the well.

The morning was quiet, birdsong being the main source of sound and when Frank returned, Hazel was still sleeping. He started a fire as quietly as he could and poured some water in a kettle to warm up. It was that time of year when they were nearly out of a lot of stuff and still had to wait a few weeks to replenish their pantry. It was a new reality to Frank — being hungry because he didn't have the money to put enough food on the table — and it was deeply humiliating.

Frank made do the best he could by using the odds and ends of what they had to make a soup that was more broth than sustenance. When Hazel stirred, they breakfasted. The heat of the fire had warmed up the place and perhaps it was just this pleasant sensation — or the proximity to his beloved wife, but for the first time, Frank thought of this new place as a possible home.

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