“I know, I know. I send them to you.” I tilted my head as I considered Lochlan. He had set his chair down next to the booth and had already taken out his knitting needles and looped on a new set of stitches. A colorblind bandit who associated with slave traders, used a knitting booth as a lookout post, and was a trained healer…
I couldn’t quite figure him out, but at least he was interesting to observe. He caught my eye and I quickly looked in the opposite direction. I needed to find him a great deallessinteresting. He was in league with Roderick, the man who had sold my sister. That alone was enough to condemn him.
All that morning,customers came up and fingered the goods but, more often than not, would leave without purchasing anything. Most women gave the same stiff smile after touching the lumpy patterns and would move on, occasionally whispering to a friend that they could do a fancier pattern at home and in better colors, too.
Lochlan wasn’t at all bothered by the remarks and sent each on their way with a friendly wave. “Have a great day!” he called after each one.
“Lochlan? Is that you? I thought I heard your voice.” An old woman tapped out the path in front of her with a knobby cane and stretched out a hand, searching.
“Auntie Mable! It’s so nice to see you,” Lochlan said. Instead of chatting from behind the table like normal, he walked around to greet her, clasping her hand into his own and guiding her to the table. “Would you like a seat?”
“No, not today. My grandson’s birthday is coming and I wanted to get him a new scarf. I do love your patterns.” Her hand searched as she blindly felt for the scarves.
“Thank you, Mable. You’re very kind. I have a new apprentice with me today. This is Gil. Gil, this is Auntie Mable.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said loudly, nudging some of the scarves closer to her. “Would you like me to help you pick a good color?”
“Oh no. I judge products based on their texture, not their color. Lochlan knows all about that, don’t you, my boy?”
Lochlan grinned sheepishly. “I have an inkling. Speaking of which—I made a new scarf and thought of you. I think you’ll like it.”
He pulled out a scarf that was the same shade of brown as dirt. “I think it looks like a sunset.”
I bit my lip. It shouldn’t be funny. I could think of many situations that would be much more difficult for Lochlan if he couldn’t tell the difference between colors, and I also felt bad for Mable. She would have no idea that Lochlan sold her a hideous scarf. She would likely present it to her grandson and announce that it was like the sunset in front of their whole family.
Mable was running her hands over the scarf. “It has good tension. You do make interesting patterns. How much do I owe you?”
“For you, not a single copper. Just tell your grandson happy birthday from me.” Lochlan beamed as old Mable felt for his cheek to pinch it. The dirt-brown scarf was clutched in her other hand, and I felt a strong urge to sneakily swap it out for a prettier one. She and Lochlan might not know the difference, but Mable’s grandson probably would.
“You’re a good boy, Lochlan. And I had a question for you. My hands have been stiffer and more sore lately. What do you recommend?”
Right—Peter had said Lochlan was a trained healer. I listened in as Lochlan gave instructions to Mable about what solution to soak her hands in at night and how to massage them to decrease the aches and stiffness. Why was he being so kind to her? I refused to examine the growing warmth in my chest. Nothing good would come of it.
“Can you remember all that?” he asked Mable patiently. “I can write it down for your daughter to read to you if you’d like.”
“No, I can remember. I’m blind, but my memory is just fine,” she said. “Gil?” Mable looked in the wrong direction.
“I’m over here,” I told her, and she turned, hand outstretched to find me. I hoped she wasn’t going to pinch my cheek, but the hope was quickly dashed. Once her hand touched my shoulder, she searched for my face and pinched my thin cheek.
“Be a good apprentice for Lochlan and eat some more. You feel too skinny. Lochlan, feed that boy! I need to find some cabbages now.”
I couldn’t help but like Mable, even if she pinched my cheeks. Lochlan told me to mind the shop and helped Mable find the vegetable booth she was looking for. If I’d had an aunt or grandmother, I’d have liked for it to be someone like Mable.
“Is she your aunt on your mother or father’s side?” I asked Lochlan when he got back.
“Neither. She isn’t my aunt at all, but everyone calls her Auntie Mable. The entire town sort of adopted her as part of their family.”
“I like her,” I told him.
Lochlan laughed. “She’s my only regular customer. Apparently my designs are so hideous that only blind people want them.”
“We’ve had other customers today,” I pointed out. “You sold several pairs of socks and a baby blanket.”
“That’s true,” Lochlan agreed, then lowered his voice. “But just between us, I wouldn’t care if I didn’t sell any. The money doesn’t matter to me.”
“Is that why you gave one to Mable? Just to be nice?”
Lochlan leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “I suppose. She’s nice to everyone, so I figure I can be nice back.”
