When Lorraine’s stall comes into sight, my heart jumps. Both she and Aria are standing behind it, involved in some sort of deep conversation that looks to me like their typical plotting.
Because I’m watching, I see the moment Aria’s gaze flickers toward us. When it processes, she turns abruptly to look again.
She’s stunned at first. Then outraged. She elbows hermother, and then Lorraine’s expression does the same transition from shock to indignation.
There’s a small, petty piece of my soul that laughs hysterically at their obvious outrage.
Lorraine finally comes out from behind her stall and marches toward us. When she’s close enough, she leans toward me and hisses. “Get away from him this instant and return to the house! How dare you?—”
“We’re married,” I break in, making sure to keep my voice uninflected rather than taunting. “Mason and I signed the papers this afternoon, and I’ve already moved to his place.”
Aria has come close enough to hear. Her face works dramatically, like she’s torn between fury and despair and neither one has yet claimed dominance.
“It’s all official,” Mason adds, using his hand to draw me back slightly and toward him, like he’s instinctively pulling me away from Lorraine’s inevitable outburst. “Just letting you know. You’ll have to handle the domestic work in some other way from now on.”
They’ll have to do it themselves, unless they can find someone else as desperate as me to do it for them. They don’t earn enough credits to hire regular help.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so pleased with this recognition, but I am.
I really am.
For the first time I can remember, Lorraine is actually speechless. Aria has started making a whimpering sound.
Wilfred, the baker with the stall next to Lorraine’s, has overheard, and he shouts out congratulations. This brings the news to the other villagers around us, and everyone comes over to hear the news.
So Lorraine and Aria don’t have the chance to say anything anyway.
Just as well.
5
We walk backto the farm soon after, and when the house comes into sight, there’s a dog sitting on the porch near the front door.
A few more steps confirm my suspicions. It’s the stray dog from the village alley who managed to get away with one of the balls. The brown-and-white one with the large build, peaked ears, and blocky head.
I let out a little squeak when I’m close enough to see that he still has the bouncy ball in his mouth.
Mason gives me a quick glance. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles.
“How did he find your house?”
“I went and got him.” I have no idea why he’d be embarrassed by this admission, but he clearly is. “Felt bad for the poor fella. He stays outside most of the time and sleeps in the barn. He won’t be any trouble to you.”
“I’m not worried about him being trouble.” There’s a silly ache in my throat, so strong I raise a hand to it. “I’m so glad you rescued him. I went back the other night to give him some scraps, but I couldn’t find him. I was worried.”
“So you don’t mind?”
“Of course not! I’ll give him a bath, and he can come into the house.”
“Don’t know if he wants to come in. I tried to get him inside, and he refused. Too scared, I think. But he seems happy here, and he’s definitely safer. As long as you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I can’t help but beam as we reach the porch and the dog comes over to greet us with anxious excitement, wagging with slow, hopeful swipes of his tail. “Hey, buddy. I’m really glad to see you.”
I pet his big head. His ears perk and his wagging accelerates.
“What are you calling him?” I ask, straightening up to look back over at Mason.
“I’ve been calling him Bill.” He was watching me with the dog, but now his eyes are focused downward again.
