She reaches out. A touch, finger to blade, dragged down the peaked center where the bevels meet, across the swirl of silver and darker iron. Pulling her hand away, Harper pivots to face me. “I didn’t realize your skills were so extensive.”
“You never cared to know.”
She picks her way around the various worktables. “You’re right.” I do not imagine the regret softening her admission.
With a heavy sigh, I set aside the partially finished dagger and shove my hammer into my toolbelt. It’s impossible to concentrate with Harper present. Better to address the cause of her visit. I can work on the dagger when she leaves.
Grabbing an old rag, I wipe the sweat from my burning face, toss it into a nearby bin piled high with dirty cloth. “Why are you really here, Harper?”
She sets a small container on the table separating us. “The lunch bell rang. I didn’t see you in the refectory, so I brought you something to eat.”
Her unexpected benevolence takes me aback, and I lift a hand to my chest, rubbing the twinge there. Since my return to Thornbrook, I have had little appetite.
“Thank you.” Of all the recent oddities, none are stranger than Harper’s kindness. We are not friends, exactly. But neither are we enemies. “If that’s all…”
“Actually, I wanted to ask your opinion on something.” She moves as if to perch on one of the rickety chairs, then draws away, likely noting its dusty state.
“Very well.” The sooner she asks, the sooner she can depart.
Harper again glances at the vacant seat, frowns, and sits. The sight pleases me. “I’ve been speaking to Mother Mabel about Thornbrook’s future. I wanted to ask about changes you’d like to see implemented. We’re to begin planning after the tithe.”
Sinking into the opposite chair, I study the woman who was once my most abhorred rival, yet who has recently become someone I might one day respect. A leader of the faith.
She squirms beneath my gaze. Crosses and uncrosses her arms. “Well? Do I need to repeat myself?”
There is the Harper I know. “Mother Mabel requested this of you?” Once a year, the abbess meets with the acolytes to outline proposals regarding the allocation of funds, renovations, community presence, and miscellaneous projects. While novitiates do not vote on final decisions, we are often petitioned for suggestions on ways to make improvements.
“No,” says Harper. “I approached her myself.”
“You remembered our conversation from Under.” When we spoke of duty, responsibility, neglect. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“I did.” She straightens, hands arranged artfully across her lap like lovely porcelain figurines. “Is that a problem?”
“I think it’s admirable you want to implement change.” Unwittingly, my face softens. Faith is not stagnant. Neither is Harper, it seems. “Have you spoken to the other novitiates?”
“I have. They’ve given me much to consider.”
Knowing Harper, she will not leave until I comply with her wishes. “I mentioned the idea of an apprenticeship program. I believe such a program would benefit not only Thornbrook, but the entire community. If you could bring that to Mother Mabel’s attention, I’d appreciate it.”
“Consider it done.”
Since Harper’s ascension, I’ve seen little of her. This new post requires long days on the road, traveling from town to town, spreading the Father’s word. Admittedly, it was a beautiful ceremony. A hush blanketed the church as Mother Mabel drew the red stole across Harper’s white alb.
I cannot deny my envy. That could have been me. It was I who obtained Meirlach. But I was not the one to gift it to Mother Mabel as proof of my worth.
“How have you been?” Harper abruptly asks.
A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, which I swipe away. “Well enough.” Though I have not opened the Text since my return. It sits on my desk, gathering dust. “And you? Hopefully Isobel isn’t too put out that you’ve moved out of your dormitory room, now that you’re an acolyte.” Whoever next enters Thornbrook will have the pleasure of cohabitating with Isobel.
“Actually,” she says, “Isobel and I are no longer friends.”
“Truly?” Now that she mentions it, I’ve noticed they dine separately during meals. They no longer arrive to service together either. No wonder the halls are quieter.
She shrugs. “Our values don’t align as they once did.”
Years Harper has spent feigning assurance. And now the walls have crumbled, vulnerability displayed without artifice… She has transformed in ways I did not believe possible. “Do you miss her?”
“It’s not Isobel I miss, exactly. It’s the security of her presence.”
