“Good. Thank ye for the financial report. It’s encouragin’.”
The man left with considerably more haste than he had arrived, pulling the door shut behind him.
Noah sat back.
He was vaguely aware of his jaw being clenched at an angle that would give him a headache, and of a particular kind of irritation that had lodged itself somewhere in his sternum and showed no signs of moving.
Marriage.
The council’s words, turning over in his mind with the grating feel of something fundamentally beside the point. As if the answer to anything that currently concerned him could be found in a strategic alliance with a neighboring family’s daughter.
He stood again and went back to the window.
The rain was coming down harder now. Somewhere above him, he could hear movement, as Esther’s lesson continued with its gentle rhythm of questions and answers. Of Ava’s voice, patient and warm, saying something he still couldn’t make out.
He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose.
Give her room.
He went back to the report. This time, with considerable effort, he managed to read it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Nay, nay, try it again. Slower this time.”
Esther’s brow furrowed in concentration, her small finger tracing the letters on the page with the careful deliberateness of someone handling something fragile.
The firelight caught the tip of her tongue where it peeked out between her teeth.
“Th-the...” A pause. A breath. “The c-cat sat.”
“Aye!” Ava’s hands came together quickly, sharp and delighted, before she caught herself and softened them. Too much enthusiasm and Esther would flinch; she’d learned that early. “That’s it. That’s the whole sentence, Esther. Ye read it.”
Esther looked up from the page. She blinked, as if she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard correctly. “I d-did?”
“Every word. Look, “Ava pointed to each one in turn. “The. Cat. Sat. Ye read all three.” She watched the realization move across the child’s face, slow at first and then all at once, like the sun breaking through clouds. “Now try the next line.”
Esther looked back at the page as her finger moved.
“The c-cat...” She stopped. Her jaw set in the way Ava had come to recognize, not giving up, reassembling. “The cat s-sat on the...” She traced the last word twice with her finger before she tried it aloud. “M-mat.”
“Perfect,” Ava said, very quietly. “Perfect, Esther. That’s two sentences.”
Esther sat back, looked at the page, and said nothing for a moment.
“I r-read it.”
“Ye did.”
“I r-read it meself.” She turned to Ava with wide eyes. “Without ye helpin’.”
“Without me helpin’ at all.” Ava felt the familiar tightness behind her chest, which appeared whenever this child surprised herself. “Ye’ve been workin’ so hard. It’s paid off.”
Esther glanced back at the book. She gently touched the page, as if to make sure it was real.
“Can I?” She stopped. Started again. “Can I do the next one?”
“Ye can do as many as ye like.”
