25. Barren
Fletch came forward, out from behind Thatcher’s chair. “My wife and her sister and her sister’s man operate a brewery in the city. We all live above the brewery. They do well and they have some staff, but my wife is pregnant and she and her sister are in need of someone to tend to our children. I am in attendance because I would like to offer this to the woman and her granddaughter.” He shifted on his feet and then said, “I have heard— I know the girl to be with child. My woman and her sister employ a good midwife and we would be happy to hire her on behalf of the girl.”
“That is very gracious,” I exclaimed.
He gave a solemn nod. “My wife would appreciate the help. I’m sure the older woman knows how to tend children. The girl would only have to do light work in the brewery until she is too heavy. The pay is but little as we would provide the lodging as well.”
Zinnia entered with Bronwyn and Eefa. The pair did not approach me as Catrin had, and remained only a few steps inside.
I turned towards them and repeated Fletch’s offer.
“That would be lovely, sir,” Bronwyn thanked him, seeing what a safe choice this was.
“No,” cried Eefa. “I do not agree to this.”
Inwardly, I groaned. The girl insisted on difficulty at every turn.
“Quiet, girl,” Bronwyn said.
“I do not want to mind Tintarian babes and work in a brewery!”
“Eefa,” I began. “This is a good placement for—”
“Be quiet, Edie,” she snapped at me.
There was a silence and then I said, “What is the matter?”
Eefa shrugged one shoulder. “The matter is that you have been in charge since we walked into the Agnes chapel. The matter is you think you rule the roost. Always! The matter is that you dictated our choices to us all along the whole journey here and we all went along with your designs and schemes.”
“Designs and schemes that saved your hides,” said Thalia, again to no one in particular, eyeing elaborate rings on her gnarled right hand.
“Eefa, I am sorry if I upset you,” I answered the girl. “I just wanted us—”
She huffed. “You just wanted to be in charge. And do not think I don’t know why you have been so hard on me.”
“Hard on you?”
“You’re jealous of me. You’re jealous that I am with child. You are a barren, aging shrew who cannot get with child. That’s why your husband left you. I heard you and Helena speak of it. At night in Nyossa.”
“Eefa,” gasped her grandmother.
I was turned away from the eight Tintarians at the fireplace, one of them my future groom. I was facing Eefa, Bronwyn and Zinnia, but the knowledge of their presence was foremost in my mind. Such an exclusive exchange, such a private conversation between old friends had been overheard by the worst possible auditor. Now my secret heartbreak was spoken aloud for all to hear.
The nine winters of my marriage flashed through my thoughts, Thrush’s constant, confused disappointment in me, even when he was trying to cheer me after another moon’s blood, my mother’s bitterness, my father’s embarrassment, the priests of Rodwin praying over my belly in the church, in our own home. And always at the back of the nightmare, was the box. I never let myself think of the box. I could not or I would crumble.
Behind me, I sensed the surprise at Eefa’s jarring words, but I could not turn around. I could not face them. I saw Zinnia’s repulse at the girl’s spite and Bronwyn was looking pleadingly at me. She must assume I would no longer advocate for their placement.
Leaving the chair, I walked towards the girl.
Eefa glowered, her face contorted in a defiant pout that only youth make.
“Eefa,” I said, my voice soft. “You are absolutely correct.”
She flinched. She had not expected that.
“I cannot get with child,” I went on. “A fortuneteller could shuffle her cards one hundred times and each reading would say ‘no babe for Edie.’ But,you?You are about to be a mother. Do you know how I know, despite your young age, that will you be a good one?”
Eefa did not speak, but her eyes did not leave mine.
