The wrinkling sound of a small paper bag filled the enormous kitchen. Normally, Tace would’ve assumed that such a place would echoed with the banging sound of pots and pans, like the giant ones that she scrubbed out at the Guadana House of Mercy. But as Stephen made his way around the table towards her, water still dripping from his shiny palms, the hairs on the back of Tace’s neck slightly rose. She fixated her gaze on the door as his shadow loomed over her. A hint of eagerness fell upon his large hazel eyes as he extended the paper bag out to her. His long fingernails were lined with dirt, accompanied by peeling skin and blisters.
“Here,” Stephen said.
Tace hesitated. A small voice lingering at the back of her mind told her not to, but as she anxiously peered inside of the paper bag, she was surprised to encounter the pleasant aroma that met her nose. Several pieces of gingerbread—not ice cubes—still warm from the fire, were squashed at the bottom. At first, she only decided to have one bite, but the taste was so heavenly that she began to devour one piece after another, cramming them into her mouth. Chewing loudly, she savored the piece in her hand, surprised at the large spices getting stuck between her teeth. She met Stephen’s gaze. Water dripped from the melted ice bowl on the table, creating a puddle on the floor.
”Good, yes?”
Tace nodded, still chewing.
“If you’re still hungry, you can take some with you for the road,” Stephen continued. “Mama made many yesterday. She loves to bake, when she’s not on the laudanum drops.”
Slowly, Tace licked the crumbs off her fingers.
The boy smiled. “Would you like to see her?”
For a moment, Tace froze. She wasn’t sure if it would be good idea, given that she had broken into a stranger’s house. It was nearly as big as the orphanage, with its painted walls, clean wooden floors, and stiff curtains. But she hardly had a chance to process this question, because Stephen had already grabbed her hand and was leading her out the doorway through the hallway. Tace couldn’t help but glance at the chandelier hanging on the ceiling, the glass pieces twinkling and glowing in the early morning light. As they made their way past the polished furniture, their bare feet silent against the fine carpeted floor, Tace wondered where the servants were to help keep this place so tidy. She hadn’t seen any, as she doubt that Stephen and his parents alone were able to do any housework.
Perhaps they were in their quarters.
They went down to the last door to the right on the hallway. Stephen’s hand slightly tightened around Tace’s, and he placed a finger against his lips as he faced her.
“Shhh,” he whispered. His hazel eyes grew even larger, if that were possible. “We mustn’t make much noise. Mama has a headache.”
Tace nodded.
The hinges of the door loudly creaked as Stephen pushed it open. A sour stench met Tace’s nostrils, so overpowering that it made her eyes sting. The bedroom was bare in sharp contrast to the hallway, with only white painted walls. It was mostly dark, with the exception of heavy curtains covering the window, letting only a few lines of light sit on the dust covered floor. The bed and mattress itself, covered in an old, musty quilt, was practically the only thing in the room—no furniture, besides the chamber pot underneath her bed. As Tace’s eyes adjusted, she nearly took a step back over the threshold.
Stephen released her hand as he entered the room.
In the shadows, a very thin, pale woman sat on the side of the lumpy mattress, on top of the sheets. At first glance, Tace thought that she was quite pretty, much more so than the Collington sisters. Her white nightgown matched her skin, which had brown stains around the collar. The woman did not react to children’s presence, nor the creaking sound of the door—her cheeks were sunken in, dark strands of black hair hanging over her hollowed clavicles, snaking down to her back. She was as still as a statue. Her bare feet were flat against the wooden floor, and her large, bloodshot eyes, which were the same hazel shade as Stephen’s, directly stared at the wall. Freckles dotted her broad nose.
Tace could see a purple bruise visible on her right wrist.
For a moment, she thought the woman’s gaze fell upon her, just for a second, but she wasn’t sure. When she slightly tilted her chin to the side, Tace could make out a large bald spot on the crown of her head. Unlike the rest of her skin, she could make out tiny red holes on it, angry and blistered, where the follicles used to be. Her hand had a few strands of black hair clenched between her white, bony fingers.
“Mama?” Stephen quietly asked.
She reached out and viciously tugged at a long, dark lock. When the sleeve of her nightgown fell, Tace noticed angry scars across her flesh. The boy rushed forward and grabbed at her arm with both hands to pull it away from her hair, shaking his head.
“No! Mama, you promised you wouldn’t do that.” His voice was shaky. “You promised. Please, stop doing that. Come back to me.”
The woman did not look at him. She kept her gaze on the same peeling spot in the wall.
“Mama,” Stephen whispered, “I brought a guest.” He gave Tace a quick smile, who slightly shrunk behind the door.
Silence.
A distressed expression crossed the boy’s face. He let go of his mother’s hands. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked. “You know what the doctor said. Pa won’t be so happy when he gets home. You are supposed to be taking your laudanum drops.”
The woman did not answer.
Stephen reached over and picked up a wooden item. He suddenly turned and smiled at Tace. His eyes shone in the dark. “I like to brush her hair,” he whispered. “That always calms her down after her fits, you see. She has so many knots, and it leaves her scalp raw and bloody when I don’t get to do it often. So it’s very important that I try.”
Tace knew it was quite rude of her to stare, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. A line of drool slowly escaped from the left corner of the woman’s mouth, gradually collecting at the bottom of her chin in a pile of foam.
Stephen gave his mother a tight hug after raking the brush three times through her hair. The woman didn’t even flinch. When he set it down on the bed, Tace could make out a chunk of red on the frayed bristles, but Stephen grabbed her palm again and led her out of the dark bedroom. He paused; placing a hand on the threshold.
”I’ll be back, Mama.”
No response.
* * * * * * * *
The heat of the sun beat down upon their backs as Stephen led her out through the front door of the house, which seemed to be coated in fresh paint. Chickens pecked against the dirt on the mostly bare front yard, leaving feathers floating in the air. Tace’s stomach was full from the gingerbread that he had given her, and she had an extra bag of gingerbread tucked into the sewn pockets of her ragged skirts. The summer blaze immediately made beads of sweat form across her forehead. A small garden consisting of bright red tomatoes, pumpkins, and potatoes met her eyes.
Tace kept glancing behind at the silent house. She wanted to ask a bit more about Mrs. Rowe, but didn’t know exactly how.
Stephen went to the right side of the yard and lifted a heavy bucket of water from the stone well. After practically dunking the entire thing over his head, drenching his shirt, he smiled with glee. Mud clung to his bare feet.
”Refreshing,” he announced.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
A giggle escaped from Tace’s mouth, which she attempted to hide with her palms. However, a delighted look came over Stephen’s face, water glittering like diamonds from his soaked hair and round, wet cheeks.
“See?” he exclaimed. “You do have a voice.” He set the bucket down with a thump, his smile fading. “You don’t have to be so shy.” Suddenly, he picked up a large brown chicken nearest him, causing it to release a loud, aggravated squawk. He winced when it pecked at his arms. “We all say stupid things time to time. I have my fair share. Here.”
”I don’t understand.”
”This is Lucy. You can bring her with you once you leave. As a farewell gift.” The animal clucked and jabbed at his wrist, causing Stephen to squirm. “Alright, old girl. No need to fuss.”
But Tace wasn’t listening. She slowly wandered over to the garden, feeling the earthworms crawl between her bare toes. Gently, she reached out and touched the tomato plants, in awe at the sight of the ones that were fully ripe, those that were orange, and the tiny, small green ones. To her surprise, Stephen came up beside her and yanked the largest one from the plant, causing the thick green leaves to rustle. He held it out to her. “Here. Take it.”
Tace’s eyes widened. He gently placed it into her hand, before curling her fingers around the bright red fruit. The weight of it against her palm startled her. She tried to speak, to say that she wasn’t trying to steal from his garden, but a smile tugged at the edge of Stephen’s mouth. She couldn’t help but admire the plants. She had never seen such a sight, not even at Guadana. Overcome with shyness, she glanced at her bare feet, before gathering enough courage to ask the question.
”H..H..how d-do you grow them?”
Stephen set down Lucy, who eagerly scampered away, while kneeling beside Tace and patting the rich soil with his freckled hand. “Seeds. You water them and let nature take care of the rest. And you have to watch out for critters. Bugs and weeds too.”
Tace nodded, before glancing at the tomato. Her full stomach rumbled as she handed it back to him. She reluctantly glanced at the woods.“I..I… I ought to be best on m-my way.” She gave a quick curtsy before she prepared to turn. “Many thanks for your hospitality.”
“Oh…no….wait…” A crushed look briefly passed over the boy’s features as he immediately moved in front of her, dropping the fruit in the tall grass and blocking her path. His bare foot smashed it as he stepped forward, leaving a bloody red mess on the ground. Yet he hardly reacted. His freckles looked brighter in the sun. “But….you won’t mind staying for one more day, do you? One more. Maybe I can guess your name, then.” His shoulders sank. “I don’t even know if I’ll see you again.”
The young girl frowned, trying not to eye the crushed tomato and its juices staining the dry grass. “I should be going.”
“Wait…don’t…don’t leave yet.” Stephen reached out and gently touched her arm. Despite how hot it was outside, his fingertips were still cold, probably from that ice cube he had been hammering away. “I didn’t get to introduce you to the rest of them. Would you like to see?”
Tace gave him a confused look. “Who?”
”My….my chickens,” Stephen replied. He made his way around the yard, pointing to each brown, black, yellow, and white one. “Titus, Helen, Rosie, Ezekiel.” He spun around before pointing at a few more of the squawking creatures, who were making their way towards the tomato on the ground. “And that is Philip, Malachi, and Benjamin II.”
”What happened to Benjamin I?”
Stephen gazed at the sky. “We had him for Thanksgiving this year. But Papa made sure that we saved his bones, gave him a proper funeral.” His hazel eyes widened. “With prayers and everything. It was the worst day of my life.”
“Oh,” Tace softly said. “I’m sorry.”
“If you want, I can show you his grave.” A long silence passed, before the boy spoke up again. “You…you can stay a while little, yes?”
Tace’s face turned red. “What about your pa?”
“He won’t see you. He won’t see us,” Stephen replied. Flies began to buzz around the tomato carcass. “You won’t have to worry.”
The young girl tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
Stephen gave her a hopeful smile. “I can’t tell you unless you promise to stay until tomorrow. I’ll give you some more gingerbread. I can get you Mama’s recipe.”
“I can’t read,” Tace replied. “Won’t your ma mind?”
”No, not at all! She’d love to see you again.” Excitement came over his face. “We can all bake together!”
“But I can’t—”
”I’ll teach you,” Stephen quietly said. “And how to grow your own garden. But you have to promise to come back for lessons. Please?” His voice trailed off into a whisper. “You’d come back, won’t you?”
For a moment, Tace hesitated. She was normally wary around strangers. Despite how much she loved his home, she longed for the little shack in the woods, one that she couldn’t help but think of for the past several months while at the orphanage. However, the problem was that she didn’t know how to get back to her beloved mountains. Given the large amount of trees that surrounded the area, she wasn’t exactly sure where she was. None of the land looked familiar to her.
”You wouldn’t mind being friends, do you?” His hazel eyes looked a little watery at the edges, and he seemed to hold his breath. “I can give you gingerbread everyday. And I promise I won’t talk too much. That was Papa said to me once, that I need to stop rambling all the time.” He rubbed his skinny arms. “I…I can’t help it. I…I talk a lot to myself because there’s no one here to listen. You’d be my first one.” Stephen took a step forward. “Ever.”
Tace hesitated.
”We can be,” Stephen softly said. “But you don’t have to. I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.” He sighed. “I could really use one. It’s only me and Mama here. And the chickens. I hardly see anyone else. Papa only comes in the evenings.”
“I want to be your friend,” Tace solemnly said.
”Really?” The word came out loudly, and Stephen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “You…you mean it?”
Tace nodded. “You are the second one I’ve made so far. Isabel is my very first.” She wanted to mention the giant, but his name was stuck at the back of her throat.
”Who’s Isabel?” he quietly asked.
The young girl looked away. “My doll.”
Stephen smiled at her. “You can bring her here.” He paused. “When you visit.”
“If I stay here another day,” Tace slowly replied, “then you can show me where Herskes is. You told me last night that your home is on the outskirts. So we can’t be far.”
To her surprise, a foreign expression passed over Stephen’s large hazel eyes, but it happened so quickly that she was sure she must’ve imagined it. He slowly smiled.
‘‘Tis a deal. You have my word.”
Tace nodded.
“But you have not told me your name.”
“Tace,” the girl awkwardly responded, smoothing out her skirts. Bunny was one that was sacred to her, a part of herself that she did not want to give away. “Now, how are you so sure that your father won’t see us?”
Stephen glanced over his shoulder, before lowering his voice. “I have a secret place. And you can’t tell a soul. It’s between you and me.” His hazel eyes narrowed. “You must swear it. If anyone else found out, it’d be ruined.”
”I do,” Tace replied. “I swear.”
A twinkle set upon his sweaty, red face, as he suddenly tapped her arm. He was smiling so hard, Tace could see all of his teeth. “Come on,” he eagerly said, suddenly scampering out towards the trees. “I’ll race you there.”
”I don’t even know where it is,” Tace called out after him. “How am I supposed to race you to a place I’ve never been at before?”
“All you have to do is follow me.” Stephen replied. “I’m only pulling your strings. But I still think I can make it there before you.”
Tace rolled up her sleeves. Clearly, he hasn’t been up in the mountains. ”In your sleep.”
“Is that a challenge I hear?”
Both children grinned at each other.
”Try to keep up,” Stephen said, beckoning with his arm. He stopped at the foot of the hill. “But I’m sure that I am faster than you,” he teased, before winking at her. “So I shan’t go too fast. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tace replied.
The boy pointed at the nearby tree with a knobby finger. “How about we start here, to each have a fair chance?” A glow descended on his sweaty face. “Although, I could give you a head start. All you have to do is ask for it.”
Tace smirked. Without a word, she joined him under the twisted oak tree, the leaves falling upon their hair. Stephen got down on his knees and spat at the ground, before clearing the acorns off the path. Tace sank her bare feet halfway into the hot, soft soil.
”Now, on the count of three, we go. Our hideout is not too far from here. Don’t worry, I’ll lead you there,” Stephen said, licking his chapped lips. He hid a warm smile as he noticed Tace gathering up her long skirts around her muddy shins and forming a knot.
To her surprise, Stephen suddenly reached for her hand. She looked at him, but he would not meet her own gaze. The boy’s hazel eyes focused on the large trees in front of them, their solemn presence sending chills down Tace’s sweat soaked back.
“One.. two…”
His palm gave hers a warm squeeze before breaking away from hers as he began to head for the trees. Tace glared at him in great annoyance, picking up her skirts.
”Oy!” she called, her voice echoing in the air. “You are nothing but a cheat. Get back here.”
Stephen laughed uncontrollably. “I was about to say three. Honestly.”
Tace took after him, as he began to dodge her upcoming shadow. Their giggles echoed in the trees, through the branches and quiet leaves, before disappearing behind the branches, leaving the gentle clucking of the chickens.
In one of the front windows out looking the house, a curtain slowly dropped.