"She was brave and oh, so smart. She knew how to use that to her advantage everytime."

A basket hang form her arm, swaying with each lazy step she took on the muddy dirt roads that lead through the village. All was wet from the night before, and those she didn't care much for a bit of water, her Father had taken it upon himself to forbid her from going to her meadow so early in the morning.

It had nothing to do with the silent war she waged against him, but, she believed, it was an action taken out of care for her health.

Instead of sitting among her flowers wth berries on her tongue, wishing that Alec would join her in a secreted moment, she was to check the few stops that they had in the village to restock the kitchen.

It was another of Mother's jobs that she had taken over, and still, not one slice of delectable gossip had reached her ears about the state of her health. It seemed as though all were happy pretending that she was fine, or that perhaps she was simply a miserable victim of her own nerves.

Part of her, perhaps the evil part, wished that they would speak out, accusing her of being sick or a worshipper of the devil to have such a weak body.

Part of her wanted to feel justified in her silent rage against her mother, the woman of the house and of their family, a respectable lady of the village, for leaving all of her tasks to her daughter. Robyn was miserable now as Rodick had taken to placing Mother on bed rest as though he was the physician that he had her send for.

She was thankful that Mary had written her back with the news of a doctor that is to pass through here sometimes within the fortnight.

Robyn needed him to come as much as her Mother did because she found herself growing terribly short with the woman. She loved her mother, yes, she always would, but she could not take the weight of the burden of her own responsibilities paired with her mothers. It was simply too much for her, too much for her to stand to look at her mother.

She shifts her basket as she enters the small bakery. The breadmaker and his wife great her jovially, a drastic change from the temperature within the small room.

Before her, Jane stood with her back erect and eyes guarded. She grasped her own basket -- larger than her own and more in the shape of a sack -- with a tightness, a caution, that Robyn had never exhibited before.

"Fine day," she greets in a friendly tone. "The rain will do us some good, don't you think?"

Jane shoots her a curious look. "Aye, I suppose that it will."

She hums. "I have hopes that it will save my families fields. Rodick might not need to spend so much of his day wasted with watering now. He could focus on the animals for once, I believe."

"Alec said something the like when he saw the weather. He was pleased to have a chance to fix the fence," she replies quietly.

Robyn blinks. "The fence has broken again?"

The other girl's jaw tightens. "It is always broken," she says sharply.

It translates to: 'someone is always breaking it.'

"A pity. It is odd, though, that it is always broken. Alec is smart and strong, he is capable of fixing a fence and your land is not so big as to garner so much destruction from the weather. Your home is practically in town, is it now?" her words are rhetoric, a setting for the couple that watches them converse, ready to gossip their warning. "I shall ask Rodick to join me later in visiting your home. He might be able to see the problem that is plaguing you."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Jane says stiffly. "We are capable of handling it on our own."

"I know, but it is with the Lord's love that we help our neighbours. I, at least, will come to pay a visit, friend."

The breadmaker comes around, handing jane her freshly baked loaves. The girl takes them quickly, tucking them beneath a milk cloth among eggs.

Yes, she had heard that an animal had gotten in and killed the family's chickens. Perhaps she could sneak away with a chick or two, claim that they had died in the night.

Or, she could ask her father. Their farm was rather vast for a Father and his family. He built them up in the village off of old money before he joined the church. They sold the eggs that they did not need. People would walk to the farm to see Rodick in the mornings.

They could spare a chick or two when they had such young hens and big farm dogs to scare away thieves and animals.

"Have you finished your shopping for the day?" Robyn asks.

"I must return hope quickly so that I can assist my brother."

"I see. Will you allow me to walk you home?"

"That would hardly be necessary," Jane sniffs, turning to leave the small establishment.

Robyn's smile becomes harder. "You must allow me to assist you with something at the very least."

"Truly, there is nothing that you can assist me with," Jane says. "I look forward to our next meeting."

And then she's gone, leaving Robyn to grind her teeth at the missed opportunity. She would have truly had like to see Alec today, more so if he was to be working on the fence. He would be a much-appreciated sight, of that she was certain.

"Don't mind her, dear," the baker's wife speaks to her as though she was speaking to a young child. "They are not good people, those twins. Touched by darkness, they are."

She bites back a harsh retort, placing an innocent smile onto her cheeks. "Many are touched by a hint of darkness, but not them. And so, is it not for our Merciful God to lay out the punishment of men? They are the ones that come for those that do wrong," she says brightly, taking a step forward, she lowers her voice. "I pray for you, Mrs. Harlan. I know that you will find your way back to the light, like many wayward souls before you have. The Good Lord works in many ways, but he cannot help those that do not see the harm in their actions, who are not filled with guilt and regret."

Her husband comes out from the back with a jovial step, blind to his wife's growing distress. He hands Robyn two warm loaves of bread, inviting her to come back whenever she should please.

Thanking him, she places the usual amount to the small counter and waves goodbye, saying a blessing for the pair simply to see the way his wife squirms with discomfort.

Gossip was heavy in their town, but there was nothing quite like hearing it directly from the source. It was a humorous affair women drinking when they were taken by the spirit, joining their husbands in the occasional bouts of merriment.

That was oft how she learnt many a thing.

Mrs. Harlan had told her on one such occasion, a time when her eldest was wed to a meek girl from the nearest town that he was completely smitten with. She would lace bread with poison, small doses that she claimed would build up over time to kill a man as innocuously as possible.

She was in the business of killing husbands for years.

It was only after she was told that Robyn began to notice the pattern of weary travellers, wedded couples, passing through. Each time the women would charge themselves with getting food to pass their journeys. Often she would hear of the husband passing before they reached their journey's end.

Cryptic business, but it made sense to her. Mrs. Harlan had been raised in an apothecary, it was said. The change from city to isolated village must have been drastic and rather appaling.

Though, if she must admit, she thought it a wonderful display of independence and freedom by those murderous women. Good for them for gathering the courage to strike down the husbands they did not want.

Robyn walked slowly, eventually coming to rest before the bare skeleton of their old house -- or perhaps she ought to view it as their new house as it was in the beginning phases of reconstruction.

The home was to be built in the exact image of the old one with a post and marked with a cross to be displayed out front made of the salvaged remains.

She tilts her head curiously, watching as men slowly worked on setting the roof together. After last nights storm, the very first storm of the summer, it seemed they were in a rush to protect the wood that was gathered in the center from warping with the water.

One wall was erected thus far and only the planks of the first floor were laid.

The urge to tease them, to laugh at their expense as she encouraged them to work faster was nearly spoken freely before she managed to hold her tongue.

She wasn't in the mood to get herself into trouble today. Perhaps should she pass this way tomorrow she would give it a good.

It wouldn't do well for people to think she was a heathen child, after all.

Jolting from her thoughts, she continues on her way, steering herself toward home with the intent to not allow herself to become distracted once more.

It was on her way that she caught the most peculiar sight.

Her Father was passing, truly passing, back and forth in at the mouth to the narrow road that she knew lead to Alec's (the only importance that the road had to her was that it lead to him). He was wringing his hand, an outward expression of his nerves, his robes swaying and clinging with every other step.

She halts in her tracks and stares, unable to help herself.

He stops just as suddenly, groaning into his hands loud enough for her to hear across the relatively large distance. She goes to him with quick, confident steps.

"Father, are you well?" Robyn asks upon her approach.

He startles. "Oh? Yes, I'm well, thank you for your concern," he says distractedly. "Tell me, Robyn, do the Twins hate me so?"

She licks her suddenly dry lips. "I could not say. Why do you ask, Father? You have never cared before what people thought of you."

"I worry, daughter, that I have made a terrible mistake."

Robyn tilts her head, taking in his honesty and vulnerability. Something crackles to life in her chest. Something twists with sympathy. "Shall we walk together, Father? It will give you a chance to clear your head."

He nods as though in a daze. "Aye, a walk sounds lovely. Will you accompany me to the Law household?"

"Of course, Father."

She lays her hand gently in the crook of his elbow as it's offered to her and begins to slowly lead them in the direction of Alec's home.

They do not speak just yet. It is a habit that they both share, waiting for the other, their target, to speak first so that you will be permitted to guide the conversation as you wish. Those that spoke first were presenting a certain degree of vulnerability if they spoke without knowing exactly what they wanted from the beginning.

Everything was a careful art in the end.

Eventually, he sighs, likely accepting that Robyn was far too stubborn to speak first even to someone that thought her the trick.

"I worry each day that I am leading someone down the wrong path. I am their link to the Lord, his humble messenger, yet I worry that the advice I give is false."

"How so, Father? Your advice to me has always been sound."

"It has not. I am not so foolish as to not admit my mistakes. The first time, I believe, that I had steered you afoot, was when I had forbidden your connection to those Law twins," he says, voice deep and rough. "They were not evil, that I have admit to you before. They were not witches, but quiet, odd children that had difficulty making friends. They did not deserve the treatment that they received."

"You did not start the insidious gossip, Father, that was another," she comfort weakly, knowing that he would tear down those words and replace them with something darker.

He does as expected. "I did nothing to sway their opinions. I have been just as guilty. Ihave judged where I ought not and cut them from the path of the Lord which is the most heinous of acts."

Aye, if you don't want to dwell upon the real sins that people commit. The sins that you commit daily, she thinks viciously.

"Are you worried for your soul, Father?" she asks gently.

His head snaps in her direction, his glare incredulous. "I worry for theirs. They have not heard the words of God in far too many years."

The house comes into view, the front of the broken fence sending a pulse of anger raging through her chest. She draws a deep breath, easing her temper into something manigable.

Out front was Jane dragging a plank of wood into position, not yet ready to hammer it into place. If her memory served her correct, then it would be far more important to fix the immediate space at the back of the house since they had always been prone to letting their goat wander free.

"Are you here to speak to them?" she poses the question innocently, as though it had been his idea from the start.

"Yes, I shall come and begin to make this right. It will be important for the village to see them at the service."

"Very well, Father," Robyn says. "May the Lord bless your success."

"Thank you, daughter," he says, freeing his arm and patting the top of her head. "Why don't you go assist Jane while I take a moment to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Law."

Resisting the urge to scowl at him for touching her more than she would have liked, she agrees and makes her way to the house behind him.

Jane scowls upon seeing her but doesn't say much as Robyn places her basket down out of the way and helps her in lifting the plank into place, balancing it upon the old nails that had not been removed.

The sharp rap of knuckles against the door fills Robyn with a pleasant content at the hopeful, tiny smile that graced the corner of Jane's lips.

"As much as my sister might deny it, she was amazed back then by the lengths that Robyn would go to just for us."

°°°

Vote,
Comment,
& follow me on wattpad.

unedited

written: 2020-08-01

posted: 2020-08-09