Chapter 16: Where berries and bread are the least of my problems

Despite my tendency to be weary of friendship, the natural fondness for Lara and Jamie was hardly something I could avoid, especially as Jamie spent every opportunity to speak kindly with me while we worked in the mine, using every method to cheer me up and lighten the gloomy mood. Eventually, he introduced himself to my father while we walked down the forest path and into the city. Initially, I feared my father’s disapproval, but, for some reason, Jamie had the ability to sway any negative reaction to a natural curiosity of his amiable personality. He may have been easier to repudiate if my father were working alongside him, but the mention of quality herbs for smoking instantly won my father over.

After Jamie pestered me several times about the theater, I decided to turn down his offer, unwilling to accept any clothes he would most likely seek out for me on accounts of presenting me like some doll upon his arm. But, in truth, it was the mere intimacy of going out with a man to see my first theater show that caused me to reject his invitation. It felt a little too—romantic.

Although I didn’t mind Jamie as a friend or as a workmate—his laziness only a slight bother—I was afraid that his extensive efforts to win me over were more intentional as a potential suitor. Both Jamie and Lara were kind to me, but Jamie’s deeper motives were more than what I was willing to accept.

After heading out to the forest during the ripe season of the berries, I collected as much as I could find and returned to the bakery to make a trade with Lara. She happily accepted the black berries that grew at the end of the summer season, and I told her that I would make my own marmalade with fresh honey comb later that evening.

“We should compare, for we usually use sugar to sweeten our jam,” she had excitedly exclaimed, then promised to come by after her shift to finalize our trade. I returned home with a partially full bucket that was well stained from all the years I would gather from the forest, and I began preparing the glass jars and fire to make the fresh marmalade with black berries and honey.

“What is this? Where are all the summer berries? This is half than usual,” my mother said as she entered the kitchen, and she peered over at the pot of berries simmering over the low fire. “Does the forest have a shortage in growing as well?”

“Well,” I said as I stirred the bubbling, sweet smelling mixture. “I worked out a deal with my baker friend. She took half and I the other. She will later bring us bread as a trade.”

“Bread for berries? How could you be so stupid?” she scorned. “Berries are much more valuable than measly old bread.”

“I don’t think so. The bread from this bakery is exceptionally fluffy. Plus, it’s already been done. I can’t go back now.”

“Oh, how can you be so reckless?” I moved over to arrange the small jars we reused each year, turning my back to my mother as she only continued to ramble about my lack of reasonable choices. Despite the constant pains of her knife to my back, I asked her to join me, and she quickly grumbled, but put on her apron, and began helping me finish the marmalade.

I had learned a lot from my mother over the years, and was grateful at least for knowing so much about how to cook and clean, prepare foods, and preserve delicacies for long term storage. Whenever she would turn sour or sting me with her words, I would remember the valuable skills I had learned through it all, and attempted to tune out all the other things I hated about my reality as a daughter of a mother who never seemed to want me.

After all the work had finished, my mother left the kitchen, suddenly no longer desiring to help, and I thoroughly cleaned up the mess left behind, and put all the cooled off jars into the storage room. However, as I anticipated sharing a jar with Lara, I began to wonder if Sable would also enjoy some, and I snuck a handful of jam into my room in preparation for the next few visits I would have before winter would prevent me from seeing him until spring.

A knock echoed through the hall as I finished the last of the cleaning, and I heard my mother shuffle to the front door. The sibling duo voices echoed throughout the hall, and my mother shouted that my friends had arrived, but they suddenly appeared as they happily invited themselves into the kitchen.

“As promised!” Lara exclaimed with rounded, flour-speckled cheeks, and she held a large linen sack full of lumpy forms of delicacies. Jamie waved, but nervously glanced behind as he followed his sister further into the kitchen while my mother stood scowling in the door frame.

“You can put it on the table,” I said while pointing to the little rickety table in the corner of the kitchen. “Ready to try some marmalade? I saved an open jar just for us.” As Lara placed the sack of bread on the table, she began rummaging inside, looking for the perfect loaf to use as a taste test for the marmalade.

“I presume this is payment for the berries, yes?” my mother said as she raised her thinning brows and dourly tapped the side of her arm. Jamie slightly stepped closer to his sister, but Lara was far from intimidated. Perhaps working with her large, grumpy uncle was enough to teach her how to manage the sour attitudes of bosses. Or, maybe their own parents were one’s formidable like mine. Even the grumbling bartender and scowling servers at the tavern seemed to sway under Lara’s spell of pure friendliness.

“You presume correctly,” Lara chimed, and she lifted a golden loaf of bread from the sack as I brought over the jar of still-warm berry mixture. “Ah, this one will be perfect to try your tasty recipe.”

“We were just discussing that since berries are so much more hard to come by, we think at least two more days of fresh bread would be fair,” my mother said, unwilling to partake in the situation without furthering her own agenda. “Lillie is also taking risks going into the forest, must I remind you where these rare berries came from.” I shot a glare at my mother, but Lara asked for a knife, and then turned her attention to my mother once again.

“Sounds reasonable to me, wouldn’t want Lillie to feel short-handed,” Lara said, unmoved by my mother’s sudden change of terms. My mother turned her nose up, and nodded in approval, then she moved out of the room, and all the negative aura vanished as Jamie gave a quiet sigh.

“I hope that isn’t too much to ask for,” I said while looking anxiously at Lara who only began cutting the bread, unbothered as she licked her lips. “It’s not risky going into the forest, like others seem to assume.”

“Of course not,” she replied. “I find it rather interesting, and like she said, these berries are way more valuable than something as easily attainable as bread. Plus, you worked hard to get them for me—I wanna make sure you get the best deal out of it. Anyway, let’s eat.” She handed me a slice of bread, another to Jamie, and we all sat down at the table, and I began spreading the marmalade onto the bread, passing the knife over after I was finished.

Normally, any bread we made at home was grainy, rather crunchy, but fulfilling as the multiple types of grains and seeds provided thorough sustenance. The golden, fluffy bread Lara had brought was the opposite in fulfillment—a luxury, I daresay.

“Oh—my—I haven’t had such delicate jam in such a long time,” Jamie said as he helped himself to a second slice, no longer afraid as my mother had long disappeared. “Ah, Lillie—you truly are amazing. Anyone living with you would be so lucky. Ah, my sweet cravings have finally been fulfilled.” I chuckled at the thought, wishing my parents could hear his compliment, but, alas, I knew that they would only scowl.

“You use honey to sweeten the berries, yeah?” Lara asked, and I nodded while savoring each bite of the fluffy bread and sweet, tangy berries.

“Yeah, there’s a beehive I often visit, but to avoid being hated by the bees, I only take a little at a time, and store it for cooking in the summer,” I said, and both sibling’s eyes widened.

“You mean—you actually stick your hand in a beehive?” Jamie gasped, nearly dropping his second slice of bread. “You’re braver than I first believed, which was a whole lot!”

“How else do you think honey is gathered?” Lara asked with laugh, then slapped the back of Jamie’s head, causing his head to push forward.

“I thought for sure the bees just give it to her if she were to ask ever so gently,” Jamie joked as he looked up with a mischievous grin. “I believe the animals would give Lillie anything—that’s her secret. I guarantee it.”

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“You make Lillie out to be some magical nymph,” Lara said while taking another bite, spewing crumbs upon the table.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Jamie said. My cheeks felt relatively hot as I looked down at the table, wondering how much the siblings talked about me together, especially as they continued to argue about how I learned to coax the bees into allowing me to gather their honey.

“Come on, Lillie—tell us your secret,” Jamie chimed, and I felt his foot push against mine from under the table. “You sing to them, right? Lull them to sleep with a melodious voice you hide from us?”

“I don’t have—“ I hesitated, but slid my foot away, but Jamie then nudged the side of my arm and Lara my other side, once again trapping me in between their pestering efforts. I thought about the ravens, the wolves, and even the deer I once put out of its misery. But, mostly, I thought about Sable and wondered if he would make such a claim about me, calling me mystical, nymph like, mysterious—like I thought about him.

“We all have secrets, don’t we?” Lara said with a smile, and Jamie huffed loudly with a squealing sound.

“I have no secrets, how dare you assume,” Jamie said as he placed a hand upon his chest while spreading his fingers across and blinked dramatically. “I am an open book, desiring for anyone to gaze upon my words.”

“A book you can’t even read,” Lara laughed, and Jamie squealed again.

“It’s not my fault those lessons were boring enough to put me into a trance,” he retorted. “I swear that woman was a witch herself.”

“Wait, you had reading lessons?” I asked, and turned my head slightly, and Jamie suddenly appeared rather pleased to have finally caught my attention. He slowly leaned back, and I felt the proximity of his foot near mine under the table, as if he were doing everything he could to at least nearly touch me. “Was—was it Historia who taught you?”

“Who?” he asked, suddenly leaning forward as he lay his elbows on the table.

“Uh—Torie. She runs the library in Cedrus City.”

“I didn’t know the city had a library. But, I cannot recall such a fantastic, queer name, for my private teachers were all old hags I swear were only attempting to curse my soul, tormenting me to make long lines of perfect penmanship. These hands are too delicate for something so tediously boring.”

“You speak quite shameful for all those privileges our grandparents gave you,” Lara said, and she began slicing another piece of bread, and shamelessly took the last of the marmalade.

“Yeah, well, they should have asked if I even wanted them in the first place,” Jamie retorted as he turned his nose up. I wanted to ask him more, especially about how he could receive reading lessons without appreciating it, especially calling me out for wasting my abilities—turns out, he was doing the same long before he met me—but I heard my mother clear her throat, and I turned around, facing her disapproving figure lingering in the doorway.

“Ahem—Lillie, don’t you think it’s getting late?” my mother asked, feigning any sense of friendliness, and both Jamie and Lara turned to look at my mother. She cleared her throat again, and my friends caught her drift and began standing up, and they both helped clean up all the crumbs left behind from our evening snack that filled me more than any dinner eaten upon that rickety table.

I guided them through the hall and onto the balcony where my father was already settled in for the evening and smoking his pipe. He looked over, seeing Jamie, and a rare smile crossed his face.

“Ah, Jamie—care to join me?” he asked.

“I would like that very much,” Jamie replied, but Lara grabbed his arm.

“No, that doesn’t work for tonight,” Lara said while slightly dragging Jamie away. “We’ve been gone long enough and have work to do back home.”

“Ah, come on, let a man enjoy his pleasures at his friend’s house—we came for the marmalade on your account, now let me have what I truly desire,” he groaned, then looked at me. “Please, Lillie, convince my sister to release me and allow me such pleasant luxuries with your good father. Don’t let her put me to work.” I clasped my hand over my mouth, holding in the laughter, and Lara suddenly smacked the back of Jamie’s head, causing him to whine.

“Can’t you read the room once in awhile?” Lara shouted. “Thanks for everything today.”

“If you recall, I didn’t pay attention to reading lessons,” Jamie resounded as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I said with a wave, and both siblings rounded their cheeks as they smiled, then slowly disappeared down the staircase. I could hear them argue, attempting to whisper, and distinctly heard them immediately speak about their time at my house, causing my heart to flutter at the idea of how they had marched into my home without hesitation and easily held their ground in spite of my parents’ capabilities of intimidating others.

“They seem nice,” my father said as I leaned on the balcony and watched my friends disappear down the street.

“Yeah,” I said, then released a sigh. “They’re good friends.” My heart suddenly skipped a beat, wondering if he said that truthfully, or was preparing to lecture me. However, as I stood paralyzed and my eyes locked in a gaze upon the stones on the ground, he grunted again, and smoke filled the air.

“They’re upper class folk, aren’t they?” he asked, causing me to hesitate. “Or? Where do they come from? Jamie works in the mine, but his clothes are silk. Lara is a baker, so a hard-working honest folk, right?”

“Yes—they are honest, hard-working people. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“I suppose.” A sigh of relief escaped, and my eyes lifted. I spotted a group of ravens, and smiled at the thought of being someone so accepted by nature, and now by new friends who only seemed to be infatuated with my abilities. I turned around as I gazed at my father who was surrounded by smoke by now, his eyes heavy and relaxed.

“Then, they seem like good friends for you to be around. Perhaps Jamie will also join me next time. He seems rather intriguing, although his clothes a bit frilly.”

Before I could reply, my mother began shouting for me from within the house. Whenever my father smoked, she refused to enter the balcony, stating that the herbs caused her intense headaches. Perhaps the feelings were mutual, and the reason why my father smoked each night.

I entered the house and walked straight into the kitchen where my mother was counting the bread she had removed from the linen sack. The empty jar of marmalade caused my heart to race, but I wanted to keep my stance, for enjoying something like that with friends reaching out was hardly something she could be resentful about, right?

“So, this is your baker friend?” she asked as she moved her finger in a counting formation. “The one you apparently gave most of the summer berries to?”

“Yes, Lara works at a bakery and Jamie, who you’ve met before, works in the mine,” I said firmly. “But, there will be plenty more trips to the forest to get more berries. The season has only just begun.”

“And what about the honey? Did you give that away as well?” She turned her neck, causing her skin to tense, but her eyes seemed softer than usual, her tone more accepting than other times.

“I only traded berries.”

“Will you continue working a trade with Lara?”

“I would like to, yes. The bread is very delicate—nothing like from the brown seeds we usually make.”

“Yes, of course I know the difference between the grains.”

“But, the bakery has all kinds of foods—crumpets, croissants—even other sweets. I’m sure when you host your friends, I could arrange to get some of the more delicate breads.” My mother raised her brows, then slightly smirked.

“Trying to manipulate me into agreeing?”

“Only telling you what I’m willing to do, for I already buy bread rolls often.”

“Fine—keep up the trade, but don’t be frugal with your demands, you hear?”

“Naturally.”

“Next time, get five wheat loaves, and at least five of the sweet delicacies you speak of.”

“I can do that.” My mother looked at the bread again, still smiling, and she began rolling up her sleeves. “I’m not hungry, but I can go to the butcher for you and father.”

“Never mind that, we’ve got some dried meat. But, Lillie.”

“Yes?”

“Feel free to make more deals with other shops and merchants. Apparently you’re quite likable and people are willing to give more to you.”

“Alright.”

“And—“ she hesitated, obviously uncomfortable. Perhaps she was looking for a reason to criticize me, and I stiffly stood in the doorway as if my boots were full of water. It was a delicate situation, like reaching my bare hands into the hive of honeybees who worked extensively to make their honeycombs, and I did all I could to carefully remove what little I thought could be redeemable without getting my hands obliterated by their sharp stingers.

“That Jamie fellow—he has no ill-intent towards you?” she asked, then glanced at me from an angle. I shook my head, but my cheeks felt flushed at the idea of Jamie having bad intentions.

Other motives? Probably.

But, was liking me such a bad thing?

“He really works at the mines?” she asked as she brushed her hand against her apron and skirt. “He doesn’t appear to have ever lifted a single finger for anyone else, and his clothes look very expensive.”

“Yeah—so he must not be good with his money.”

“Or comes from a wealthy family.” She eyed me again, and the moment of wondering if my mother would finally approve of me suddenly vanished as a new concept began to form. “Jamie is rather handsome, isn’t he?” She moved over to the stone counter while carrying a few loaves, but she chuckled quietly to herself, sending another shiver of fear of the delicate situation as I awaited for the stinging to begin.

“I remember when your father was young and handsome,” she said wishfully. “Too bad I was foolish to be caught up by only his looks. I should have waited a little longer for a richer man to seek me out. At least Jamie has both.”

Like the prick of needles driving all over, my skin itched something fierce, and I turned on my heel and moved into my room, wishing I could for once leave my mother’s presence—just once—without the horrible sensation of her stinging words.

Initially, I had expected my parents to frown upon the idea of friends coming to visit me, scold, or even attempt to throw them out, followed by wrathful lectures of how idiotic I was for choosing such friends.

Yet, the idea that both saw Jamie as a potential suitor caused me even worse pain.

How was that even possible?