A string of sunny days blessed the countryside, casting away the last chill of winter. The good weather coaxed Patience into spending more time in the yard. She found herself taking more care with the landscaping and exterior. Winter was finally gone and now the bright days ahead would only show how unkempt the property had gotten. The girl trimmed down bushes, swept the stone path, and beat away webs and leaf litter stuck to the cottage’s brick foundation. Easy tasks to fuel a bit of pride in her home.
Each day saw new needs arise. Rosamund’s chicks were growing strong, and in their burgeoning independence found it fun to squeeze through the wire fencing to reach the sprouting garden. Patience threw down planks of wood along the perimeter to bar their entry while Anax scooped up any errant chicks with his tendrils. By now the hens had grown accustomed to this creature, even braving a few pecks at his mist to which he would never respond.
Today the pair turned their attention to the front of the property. While the sprouting weeds were less of a threat among the flowerbeds, they had to be controlled nonetheless. Patience yanked the worst offenders from the company of trilliums and bleeding hearts. However, several dandelions remained untouched as the girl had plans to harvest the greens and crowns later in the season.
Patience was just setting a loose stone back into its place along the flowerbed when the sound of a familiar engine putting drifted up the road. She rose to see the forest green shape glide to the front gate. The man astride the motorbike pulled down his goggles, shaking out his wind-plastered hair.
“Schuler! What a surprise!” Patience chirped. Before she was aware, her feet had brought her to the gate. A flash of color caught her eyes. Tucked into Schuler’s bag was a bouquet of flowers. Her mouth drew into a tight line. “Oh … I thought you knew how I felt about cut flowers …”
The musician chuckled. “These are for you parents. I was going to pay them a visit. I figured I’d come by to ask—did you want …” he trailed off as he saw Patience dip her head. “Unless you already went recently.”
“No! No … I haven’t …” sighed Patience. For all the work she had done maintaining the house in their honor, she had only visited the joint grave once since her mother reunited with her father. The guilt consumed her and crackled through her voice. “I’ll … I’ll come with you. Please allow me a few minutes to get ready.”
Schuler nodded. “I’ll be by the gate.”
Patience waved in acknowledgement and stepped over to the water pump to wash her hands. The cold stream numbed her fingers, nearly enough to cause pain.
“Schuler said he wants to visit your parents? But they are deceased,” said Anax.
“Yes, but they’re still around for us to visit. They’re buried in a cemetery.” The girl spread the water up her forearms.
“A cemetery?”
Her skin prickled from the cold. “A graveyard. A place with memorials for the dead.”
“When our kind have their final death, those that remain simply move on, thankful for their loved ones’ first lives and humbled to be fortunate enough to experience their second lives.”
“So you just leave the pieces of their skull where they lie and continue on with life?”
“Yes.”
“There isn’t even a burial?” asked Patience, rubbing her hands to recapture some warmth.
“There is nothing for animals to scavenge, no flesh to decay.”
“Sanitation aside, you don’t feel the need to memorialize them?”
“Why?”
“You know, to remember them, have a place to visit and talk with them.”
“Why? They are gone. They cannot be revived a second time. The memories of them are carried by the living.”
“I—” began Patience, “It’s for sentimental reasons.”
“I still don’t see the point.”
“It’s nice for the living.” Patience felt the heat rise in her face. Her throat began to cinch. “You …” She swallowed. “You just don’t understand.”
Feelings of hypocrisy nibbled at her heart. Here she was arguing for the importance of memorials and yet she barely visited those of her parents. The girl sighed as she trudged through the garden to the gate. She wondered if she was a bad daughter.
Patience’s heart drummed the whole way to the cemetery. Keeping it safe from the wind lest the flowers lose more petals, the girl clutched the arrangement closely to her chest. She squinted against the wind blasting her eyes through Anax’s sockets. His orb trembled from the exhilaration. Unsure of how fast he could sprint, Patience assumed he rarely achieved and maintained speeds this fast. She had almost forgotten her guilt until the engine turned off and they stepped into the intricate shadow of the cemetery gate.
The girl stood still as Schuler strolled past her. He paused, and glanced back.
“You all right?”
“Y-yeah,” Patience mumbled.
“Here.” Schuler took the bouquet from her grasp, alleviating the burden.
Patience nodded her thanks. She passed her fingers along Anax’s mandible to reassure herself.
Together they wound through the cemetery. Anax’s eye zipped back and forth to take in the intricate details of the memorials. Awe washed over him as he realized the great diversity of monuments. Stone crosses, angels, and obelisks towered over more modest grave markers. While the skull was distracted, Patience and Schuler focused on finding a particular headstone with a sculpted hand pointing toward the heavens, for her parents were buried just beyond it.
The great variation of headstones only spoke in a whisper of all the different lives that had come to rest here. Soldiers, clergymen, immigrants, infants, the wealthy, the poor, the people between, and even a few witches lay in the soil. This cemetery was not a terrible place for their earthly bodies. Above, the lawn was green and kempt, the trees full and lively. Flowering bushes formed neat hedges to separate various sections of the property. It was a veritable park.
As they turned past a weeping willow, they saw the hand, pointing as if to call their attention. Nearing the monument, Patience held her breath. She stepped around the stone pillar, giving the hand one last look before her vision tunneled. Patience was almost afraid to look, but some some divine force twisted her head to the spot. Perhaps it was Anax. She did not care either way. Funny how two stone slabs could cause her so much distress.
Antander and Frances Firmin rested just inches away from each other, side by side in death just as they had lain each evening during their marriage. Standing in front of the twin headstones, Patience’s eyes began to sting. She slowly reached a hand out, her hand that worked so hard to keep their house suspended in a time before they were gone. Her fingers grazed over the tops of the stone warmed by the sun. She gave them each a few pats. Trying to be strong, the girl forced a smile, but it soon crumpled. Tears flowed freely down her face. Sniffling, she turned away as Schuler knelt down to place the flowers between her parents.
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They remained there for a moment. Schuler made a sign of a cross over his chest and folded his hands by his belt. Anax was respectfully silent despite the strange rituals around him. A breeze swept through the cemetery, blowing away a few petals from the bouquet onto Patience’s mother’s side. Disturbing the peace, a strained sob escaped the girl’s throat. The man placed a gentle hand on Patience’s back. From his pocket, he offered her a handkerchief which she gladly accepted.
“We can go if you want,” said the man.
Patience nodded her head. She thought after so much time that it would be less painful. Apparently a few years were not enough to heal her grief. Her feet began leading her away toward the entrance. Schuler followed not far behind.
The girl whispered to Anax, “Perhaps it would be nice to not have them here at all.”
He lowly hummed. “Hm, I don’t even know if my own parents are alive or dead.”
Patience held her breath.
“Well, as you said: you have yours right here to talk to. You have that, at least.”
Patience stopped. He was right. She reached a few fingers to wipe the tears from her eyes as she sniffed. She spun around on her heel and rushed back to her parents, leaving Schuler to wait on the path.
Through hitched breaths she murmured, “Thank you. I won’t let your gifts go to waste.” Her heart still strained, but Patience fought to articulate the words. Hands curled into fists. “I’m ready to …” She could not bring herself to finish. A sad smile dimpled her face. “Well, you both know.” Patience kissed her fingers and brought her hand to each slab, touching upon her parents’ names. With one final reverent glance at the graves, the girl stepped away to rejoin Schuler.
As the wind whistled through Anax’s skull, Patience’s mind wandered to the promise she made. She would live a full life for her parents, as they intended. It was a new chapter in her life, a significant character had entered. This was reason to celebrate. This would be that something special. It was time to reach into that pile of savings, albeit with some restraint.
In front of her home, Schuler bade Patience farewell, but not before embracing the girl once more. She watched him ride back toward Keaton until he disappeared around a bend of trees. Instead of entering the cottage, the girl sat on the front step. She folded her arms across her knees.
“All right, Anax, where would you like to travel to within the country?”
“I only saw one general map of this country in your book and that already had countless place names.”
The girl stared up at the wide sky. Thin white clouds scuttled across the blue expanse, winds high above the earth scalloping their edges. Like waves caught still in time.
“How about we visit the ocean?”
“Can we?” Anax chittered excitedly.
“Let’s.”
The smell of manure hit the girl’s nose, reminding her that she was in the outskirts of Keaton, even though the brick edifices seemed just a stone’s throw away. Weathered wooden walls flanked Patience as she passed by Cliff Wells’ stables on her way to his feed store. A new section had been built for his mules while the older section was renovated and used for storage. She imagined Schuler’s possessions sitting in there, eagerly awaiting his return as she had. Patience parked her wagon outside before facing the front of the main building.
The open maw of the store’s entrance swallowed the girl. Once a barn, it now sheltered bales of hay and alfalfa in its stalls in lieu of livestock. The lofty ceiling vaulted over rafters, various empty cages hanging from the beams. To Patience’s right were a few stalls lined with shelves displaying various tools, implements, and other supplies. Another stall held large spools of wire and thick logs of rolled fencing. At the far back, Patience spied the figure of the store’s proprietor.
The girl walked over to find him hunched over a large wooden pen full of chicks with a heat lamp as its centerpiece. Cliff Wells was younger than his brother who owned the general store. His hair was still mostly black save for symmetrical patches of gray in his short mustache and goatee. Patience admired the full curve of his jaw. His ochre brown eyes seemed to smile at her when he finally noticed her presence.
“Patience! Welcome! Ned told me you were sporting some sort of skull on your head nowadays. I didn’t think it’d be that big,” Mr. Wells blurted. The elder Wells never nosed in people’s business, but that hardly stopped him from telling his family whatever he observed. Patience rolled her eyes and smirked under Anax’s shade.
“It’s my new look,” said the girl.
“Rather bold, but I suppose you were never one to blend in,” chuckled Mr. Wells.
“Not as if I had a choice,” Patience sighed, wrinkling her mouth.
Dark hands sorted through the puddle of chicks. “What can I do for you today?”
“Oh, I’m just here for a bale of hay and a bag of chicken feed.”
“I’ll help you get that in just a minute!” Mr. Wells said, picking up a small chick with a spot of red dye on its head. He brought it over to a table in the corner warmed by the sun streaming through a narrow window.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
“It hasn’t been eating from the feeder. I’ve been hand feeding it the past couple days,” explained the man as he dipped his head to inspect the ball of fluff in his firm yet gentle grip. He grabbed a syringe to his left and injected a bit of liquid mash slowly into the chick’s beak. The way he handled animals never ceased to lift Patience’s mood.
“Actually, I had something else to ask you,” Patience voiced.
“Go on,” said Mr. Wells.
“You make a trip into Haverston once a week, right?”
“Yeah, to pick up orders and make a few deliveries.”
“Can I please get a ride with you?”
“Whatcha heading to Haverston for?”
“I’m going to take the train to St. Phocas for a little getaway,” she explained.
“Ooh, that sounds lovely!” Mr. Wells remarked as he stroked the down of the chick in his palm. He then set his charge back into the pen with its peers.
“I’m hoping it will be! It’ll be my first vacation since …” Patience shifted her gaze.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself,” he said. “I’ll be glad to take you to the train station. I’m going Saturday morning, seven sharp.”
“Perfect! Thank you!”
“Now let’s get you that hay and feed. Bring your wagon?”
“Of course.”
The day Patience was to embark on her first adventure in a long while began early. She woke up before light broke, her nerves keeping her slumber shallow. The girl wrapped herself in her wool cloak and set for the garden. An ample amount of grain fell from her hands as she made sure the chickens would have enough to forage for almost a week. She also generously watered the vegetables.
Having packed the previous night, Patience patted her carpet bag on the sofa in the parlor. Bills passed through her fingers as she recounted her travel budget. It pained her slightly to extract the amount from the hidden chest, but the prospect of adventure burned hotter than her worries. Half of the money went into her bag, the other half to a cloth pocket she tied to her underbelt.
The girl made a quick run around the whole cottage, seeing that everything was in its place and all the windows were closed and locked. When everything was checked twice over, she crossed the threshold. A deep breath of air filled her lungs.
Patience marched to the gate with her bag in hand, leaving the cottage in her wake. Her fingers gripped the worn wood and unlatched the lock. For a moment, she hesitated to take a step further, the gray haze seemingly holding her still.
“Ready?” Anax asked.
The girl nodded, raising a hand to the skull’s jaw. Her feet then fell before her, taking the first strides to cross the greatest distance she had ever traveled without her parents.
St. Phocas lay hundreds of miles south of Antimoire. It had the advantage of being one of the few beach towns along the coast that had a train station. Convenience aside, the town boasted smooth, sandy beaches and eclectic establishments. The girl had seen some photographs and artwork of St. Phocas before, however she knew those were incomparable to the real thing. She could barely contain herself as she skipped down the road.
This was it. She was going to leave her home and stay away for a few days. The Patience from a month ago would have never entertained the thought. How exciting it was to step into this new life. Perhaps this could lead to more trips in the future. For a brief moment, the doubts and worry over money fled the girl’s mind. She saw herself and Anax going abroad, not immediately, but before her hair turned gray. The thrill of adventure gripped her heart. But most excited was Anax. He practically hummed at the back of Patience’s neck.