“Pa, today I met some wonderful people!” Mary chirped, following at Lumber’s heels as he entered the small cottage.

  Her voice was light and bright, trying to chase away the heavy air that seemed to cling to him when he entered the house.

  “Mary.”

  “Look, Mister Otto even gave me a gift!” She eagerly held up a small four-leaf clover, its stem still fresh, the petals slightly uneven but vibrant with green life.

  “Mary.”

  “I also cleaned myself at Miss Ella’s house! She’s so kind, she even laundered my dress for only a single coppy!” She twirled around, enjoying the clean scent of lye soap that clung to the fabric.

  “Mary!”

  “!”

  Realizing the serious, weary tone in his voice, Mary stopped talking, her smile faltering.

  Lumber exhaled, his broad shoulders slumping. He sat down on the chair nearby, his gaze lingering on the clover and then on her clean dress.

  "Who do you resemble?" he muttered.

  It wasn’t from him for sure. He refused to admit it.

  He looked down at the girl with tired, heavy eyes.

  “Mary, I heard from Victor.” He said quietly.

  “!”

  Mary widened her eyes, her body trembling slightly.

  “Why have you been absent from your lessons? Do you know what I have offer the church for your place there?”

  “I…” Her eyes trembled.

  Her thoughts raced.

  Should she tell him? That Father Victor frightened her?

  But what if Lumber did not believe her?

  And what if he did believe her?

  She knew her pa would fight for her. He always had, just as he had jumped into the heart of the fire ten years ago.

  “I–I…”

  Defamation. What if the Church accused them of defamation? What if they were punished for defaming a priest of the Church?

  “Mary.”

  “!”

  Mary jolted.

  “I know you are a clever girl. But to shirk your lessons,” Lumber said, his tone softening just a little" Education is a necessity, Mary.”

  “I…”

  She closed her eyes briefly.

  Her hands fidgeted behind her back. Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled something out.

  One Alan coin. Twelve shillings. Sixteen coppies. Her earnings for the month.

  She held them out toward him with both hands.

  “Pa… here, for you.”

  Lumber gave her a dazed, uncomprehending look.

  “Coin! Look, Pa, I earned all of this myself this month past!” Mary’s voice rising with nervous enthusiasm.

  “Mary!”

  “!”

  He slapped her hand away.

  *Clink.* *Clink.* The coins fell to the wooden floor. They scattered, clinking against the ground.

  “Ah…”

  Mary’s eyes followed them as they scattered.

  “I have told you time and again! Cease this… this scrambling for coins! I do not need you to earn money!”

  “That…”

  He shook his head, his gaze lingering on the fallen coins before lifting back to her face.

  “Father Victor told me. You have been seen recently with a gentleman.”

  “!” Mary widened her eyes, her pupils trembling violently.

  “That is a trick, Mary, can you not see it? Men of his station give coins for a reason! Do not associate with strangers! They are not good men! Do you wish to be taken away from me?!”

  “B-but!”

  ‘He is my friend.’ Mary swallowed her words.

  “Do not waste your time playing! You must apply yourself to your studies! Learn embroidery, learn housekeeping from Miss Opal next door!”

  “...”

  “One day,” he added, “I will arrange for you to learn proper comportment at Madam’s estate.”

  “I…” her hands trembled.

  “What?” Lumber fixed her with a stern gaze.

  “I don’t want to!”

  Mary turned on her heel and threw open the door, running out into the dark night.

  “Mary!”

  Lumber yelled after her.

  “Come back here!”

  He watched, as her small figure gradually disappeared down the path.

  “...”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  It was not the first time the girl had rebelled against him like this.

  She would likely run to Miss Opal’s house down the lane. She always did.

  She would surely return home by the next day.

  Lumber couldn’t help but sigh. Without a woman in the household, raising a girl alone was painfully difficult. That was why he appreciated Opal so much.

  Teaching a girl in her rebellious years was harder than any labor he had ever done.

  “Maria…”

  He looked at the faded painting on the mantelpiece.

  ‘I miss you.’

  —

  Mary ran through the dirt street in the dead of night, her small footsteps splashing through shallow puddles and loose mud, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

  “Hic, hic, ah…”

  Her breath came in broken gasps. Her chest burned, and her throat felt tight, as if something heavy were lodged there and refused to move.

  She stumbled to a stop, bending forward slightly as she sniffed.

  “Hick, sniff,”

  She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress, the very dress her father had once proudly told her was bought from a merchant from the city.

  The fabric was worn thin, the hem frayed, but she still treasured it.

  “I— hik, I…”

  She didn’t know what to do.

  Her feet moved on their own, tracing a familiar route she had walked countless times before.

  The path led her toward Miss Opal’s cottage.

  *Knock, knock.*

  She rapped weakly on the wooden door.

  “Coming!”

  A moment later, the door opened, and an aged woman with kind, weary eyes and brown hair appeared in the warm lamplight.

  “Mary, child, what are you doing out at this hour—” Opal widened her eyes.

  “Miss Opal!” Mary flung herself into the woman’s arms and buried her face in her apron, her small body shaking with sobs.

  “Hix, hix…”

  “There now, child, there, there,” Opal murmured, stroking her back and her head with a work-worn hand.

  ‘So warm,’ Mary thought, as she clung to the simple comfort of a motherly embrace.

  …

  …

  …

  “Miss Opal, sniff, thank you…”

  “You are always welcome here, Mary,” Opal replied gently.

  Mary sat inside Opal’s modest home, a small blanket draped over her shoulders.

  The fire crackled in the hearth, casting orange light across the room. She held a crude clay cup filled with warm tea, both hands wrapped around it.

  “Ache—”

  “The night air is cold, Mary. You mustn’t run about so, you will catch a chill.” Opal said with a concerned look.

  “Yes, ma’am…”

  Opal was a widow, an aged woman with her brown hair in a neat braid. She was the one teaching Mary how to braid her hair. Although kindly wrinkles lined her face, they did not diminish her gentle features.

  She wore a patched dress and an apron, with a woolen shawl wrapped around her neck against the evening’s dampness.

  Opal lived down the lane, alone, raising a boy a few years younger than Mary, Otis.

  As the daughter of a single man, Mary and her Pa relied on her a great deal. Likewise, they often helped Opal with heavy chores for free.

  “Mary, do not blame your father too much. He only wishes what is best for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mary always felt Opal was her second mother. She relied on Opal for the emotional comfort she could not find elsewhere.

  “Here, Mary. Eat a little,” Opal said, placing a small dish of fried egg onto the table.

  “I, hic, I already ate, ma’am.”

  “That’s too bad,” Opal chuckled lightly.

  Waiting for Mary to calm down completely, she asked again.

  “Mary, have you seen Otis?” Her voice tinged with worry.

  Mary sniffed, tilting her head.

  “No, Ma’am Opal. Is he playing late again?”

  Opal pressed a hand to her cheek. “Perhaps. this boy,” She sighed. “Raising a son is so hard.”

  “Heehee,” sniff, Mary giggled, and Opal gave her a gentle, tired smile in return.

  Mary suddenly stood up, lifting her hand with renewed energy.

  “Then, allow me to find him for you!”

  “!”

  Opal widened her eyes.

  “Oh no, child, it is dangerous out there in the dark!”

  “No, Miss Opal, you have been too kind! Let me repay you this one time!”

  Before Opal could stop her, Mary darted out the door.

  “M-Mary!”

  But it was too late. The girl had already disappeared into the night.

  Opal sighed, rubbing her temple.

  “Like father, like daughter.”

  —

  “Ah, I forgot to return the blanket.”

  Mary murmured to herself as she walked along the familiar street, the small blanket still draped over her shoulders.

  She slowed and looked around.

  The village at night was cold and deserted; not many souls were seen wandering about after the sun had set. The only sounds were the distant hoot of an owl and the soft crunch of her own boots on the gravel path.

  “Otis!”

  Her voice echoed down the empty lane.

  No answer came back, only the soft rustle of wind brushing.

  Mary tilted her head.

  She didn’t understand why the village felt so deserted.

  Even on cold evenings, there were usually at least a few people around. Someone would fetch water, some would come home late, prepare for the rite, or someone just lingering, drunk.

  Her thoughts drifted to an old rumor the children whispered about.

  “At night, a violet-eyed monster roams the streets, sucking the blood of children who stayed out too late.”

  She smiled.

  “Pa said it is nonsense~”

  That’s a lie, she knew it. Just a story to scare children into behaving.

  Even if it existed, she would never be harmed. Not as long as Lumber Smith was around.

  “Heehee.”

  ‘Pa really is the best.’

  Mary was happy, her earlier sorrow forgotten.

  She jumped and hopped as she walked, her breath puffing out in small white clouds, the blanket fluttering behind her like a cape.

  “I must apologize to him tomorrow.”

  She thought as she yelled again, her voice echoing in the quiet.

  “Otisssss~ where are you hiding?”

  Mary visited the churchyard, its tombstones like crooked teeth in the moonlight; the shuttered pub; the empty playground; the stone statue of the Moon Maiden in the village square.

  “Otiiis~”

  Nothing.

  “Otii~”

  Her voice sounded smaller.

  ‘Hmm.’

  Where could he be? She tilted her head in thought.

  Mary turned slowly in place.

  What should she do?

  ‘Mmm…’

  “The forest? No, it can’t be. Pa has strictly forbidden me to come to the forest.”

  But, could it be?

  Mary slowly turned her head to the east, toward the dark line of trees beyond the village.

  "Arnold.”

  The thought came unexpectedly.

  Now that she thought about it, didn’t Arnold stay in a mansion somewhere to the east?

  Maybe he could help.

  ‘Friend.’

  “Heehee.”

  she smiled, the word warming her from the inside out.

  “Let’s go meet my friend!”

  With that thought warming her chest, Mary adjusted the blanket on her shoulders and sauntered toward the forest.