"She could have done outstanding, amazing things. She would have."

It was well after lunch, nearly time for supper with the sun already beginning to set when Robyn made it home, cradling her hand to her chest as she traced over the hasty rin tied together from the flower stem, the daisy face looking up at her.

Her father had been waiting with his hands locked together before him with his bible held under an arm. He was examining the wildflowers watching them sway in the soft breeze.

She had smiled to herself, her arm linked tightly to Alec as they ran to join him.

The ceremony had been short and sweet. Robyn had picked flowers for her bouquet and used them for the ring. Alec dressed in his best shirt, had gifted her his key. It was a symbolic gesture as they were not to be living in is home, but it was not the matter that she was to concern herself with. Robyn only cared for the key that was now weighing down her pocket. The fact that he wanted her to be the woman of his home was enough for her.

It happened quick. It was short and sweet. It was all that she could have really wanted, truly.

The house was dark when she returned, the candles were snuffed and the fire burned only coals.

She brushed the petals of the flowers, drawing a pretty smile to her lips as she entered as silently as she could, breath held carefully so as not to alert her likely resting mother to her presence.

As much as she loved the woman, she did not have it in her to see her, not even for a last goodbye. A physician would be here soon to attent to her and her mother had only ever needed Rodick's care and love. She had no time to sit and chat with her regardless of whatever she thought.

Robyn steals a rucksac from Rodick's room and shoves as many of her clothes that she could within in a rushed manner, leaning more on the heavier, winter attire side of things as she grabbed her stuff.

She switched her shoes, putting on her thicker pair for colder wear and placed her lighter, smaller ones at the top of the bag.

Her room wasn't so much bare as it was a mess of things strewn about blindly. If she was looking at it without a clue she would have thought that they had been robbed, or rather, that she had been robbed for some precious dress that she did not own.

She shook her head, frowning at the state of her things. She made no move to clean it, however. Part of her wished that her Father would not say a thing and that Rodick and her mother would be left to worry about her if only for the reason that it will be her last chance to inconvenience the pair, her only chance to get them back once and for all after all those arguments and disagreements.

It was petty, she knew, and childish, but she much enjoyed the thought of it still.

Silently, she dismissed her train of thought and tip-toed her way to the kitchen to grab one of the many loaves of bread, likely a compassionate gift do to her and her Father's near demise in the fire, and some of the meats that have been smoked and cured into jerky. She stuffed them in her basket, laying a few apples on top along with a tied cheese cloth of oats. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to sustain them until they reach town where they could acquire something more.

"What are you doing?" her mother says in a timid voice that had become characteristic of her.

Robyn licks her lips. "Mother. What are you doing out of bed?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine."

Her mother's soft, tired features shift to something dark. A scowl looks ugly on her face, the burn of rage in her eyes unattractive from the prettiness of the woman that she was.

Though, Robyn hardly found anything pretty about her mother these days, not compared to how she remembered the woman when she was only a child. She had been bright and fair then, full of happiness and compassion and kindness.

This woman was only a shell of that, worse even. It was as though she cut those qualities away from her, thrown them away like one throws away rotted food.

"Why must you always work on my nerves, Robyn? You know how fragile they are. Why must you always antagonize?"

"I am not antagonizing, Mother," she groans. "Though, it seems as though your nerves are no longer bothering you today. Is it because Father is not here to bother you?"

"How dare you, you insolent little girl! You will watch how you speak to me!"

Robyn strains not to scoff at her. "I apologize for finding you only cry for your nerves when it benefits you. Is this how you are when no one is home? You walk about happily and without a care as no one is there to call you out on such things."

"What I do when alone is none of your concern, but I will have you know that I am free of bothers when you are not here and my nerves do not act up an inch."

She does scoff this time, rolling her eyes. "You're going to blame your poor health on me and Father, then, when we do everything for you?"

"I will blame my poor health on you and your Father because you are to blame!" her mother shouts, quickly moving to cover her mouth once the words are spoken. Reluctatnly, she continues, "His affair and your knowledge of it has wounded me terribly, Robyn. I blame you for my ill health and frayed nerves."

"You blame me for Father actions?" she counters. "It is not my place to tell you of what he has done and send our family into ruin. You are his wife, not I, mother, and truly, you cannot blame us even then for it was your cold attitutde that drove him away."

Her mother sneers, lips curling. "You blame me for him straying?"

"I blame no one," she says. "I simply know that I am not to blame and take offence at your insinuation."

"What would you know of blame, Robyn?" her mother asks condescendingly. "You're nothing but a child."

A sharp feeling strikes in her chest, an angry feeling that makes her burn. The weight of the key in her pocket is a steady anchor, the feel of the flower around her finger a shield to her words.

"I have not been a child for many years, mother," she says calmly. "I know much of blame and guilt and regret. I know of whispers and sins and anger and the punishment that one will face in damnation is the weight of it all come to get you. You have not seen me for who I am since you yourself have become blinded, but I will not allow you to try and make me feel guilt where I am not meant to."

"You talk like a grown woman with knowledge beyond your years, but I cannot see it on your face or in your actions. You are still a child, Robyn, let me teach you still."

She tenses at the words, something akin to recognition floods her. "Is this what you have done to my brother? Is this how you have turned Rodick against us?"

"I have done nothing of the sort! I have only told Rodick the truth of my hardships as he is the only one with love for me still."

Robyn shakes her head. "You are ill, mother, and it pleases me greatly that we have reached out to a physian that will come to care for you."

"I am not will! It is only my nerves," the fair haired woman argues uselessly.

"Then pray that the doctor sees something that is not there or the people might see you to be possessed by the devil himself for your actions."

Her mother quirks a brow, a shadow of a smile hiding behind dark, empty eyes. "Oh? Just as they see your twins? Your brother says that they have bewitched you."

Robyn growls. "Rodick knows nothing of the twins and neither do you so you will hold your tongue."

"You believe yourself able to tell me what to do? Ah, you must surely be bewitched, then."

"You will not speak of my husband in such ways!" she screams, hurtling the words at her mother.

She steps back, shock playing across her face as a hand comes up to her chest with a strangled gasp.

"Tell me that you lie, Robyn," her mother pleads.

Wearily, she approaches the woman. "Mother? What's wrong?"

"Tell me that it isn't true."

"It is. Father married us before I came home," she tells her. "Why? What is wrong?"

Her mother shakes her heads, eyes falling shut as she struggles to breath. "They have gone for them," she whispers.

Ice chills her over, scorching through her and she flinches, shivering. "Who, mother? Who has gone for them?"

"Rodick."

Her breath leaves her in a sob. "When? When have they gone?" she demands.

Her mother's hand trembles as she reaches for her. "Do not go, Robyn."

She yanks her hand away. "When have they gone?!"

"Now. They go for the twins now."

Stumbling away, Robyn forgets her things as she takes off, ignoring her mother's cries as she makes for their meadow.

They would be there by now. Jane had begun packing before she and Alec had left and Robyn had managed to do it in only a few minutes. They would have been finished and waiting for her by now without a doubt in her mind.

They were to meet at the meadow and leave from there, walk through the woods until they reached the road so that they could avoid being seen from prying village eyes.

If they were already there, then all would be well. No one really knew where her meadow was and it would be easy for them to hide if they found it. She would find them there, eventually, and all was surely to be well -- even if Rodick was to actually find and lead them to the meadow in the first place.

Still, it did not stop her fear as it coursed through her, her feet carrying her faster than she had ever gone before. The flower on her finger falling away as she ran and she only paused momentarily, faltering in her steps only slightly, to mourn the loss.

She shook her head at her foolishness. It wasn't a real ring and she could grab as many wildflowers from her meadow as she wished.

"Please, do not let me be too late," she breathed, uncaring if they branches tugged at her dress, pulling at her as though to slow her down, to stop her from moving.

Robyn's breath came in heavy pants, her chest heaving as she sprinted without abandon.

There were voices ahead too low for her to hear well enough, but she slowed, catching her breath as she inched her way forward, inching her way carefully.

She itches to keep going but instinct drove her to remain still, to compose herself before she set forward with the intent to embarrass herself.

It was foolish, she knew, her hesitation, and it was easy to pin that as her reasoning even if she knew that it was solely driven by fear. Fear that she was too late, fear that she wasn't — fear that she couldn't describe, couldn't fathom, because Alec meant the world to her, her husband meant the world to her...

And she was uncontrollably terrified.

Gathering herself for whatever awaited her, Robyn stepped forward the few steps out of the trees into the meadow.

"Robyn wasn't meant for life back then. She would have been outstanding if she was here with me."

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Unedited

Written: 2020-08-17

Posted: 2020-08-24