The Return

Slap, slap. Slap, slap. Slap, slap. The sounds of the shutters hitting the house in the night wind of the storm startled Edrea from her sleep, and she opened her eyes in the darkness. There was further darkness, but she could hear the sound of the fire being stirred in the kitchen. The warm scent of her fragrant straw mattress followed her as she rose, reaching behind her to scratch a spot on her shoulder that had been poked by a stray piece of straw in her sleep, and finding the ladder. The wood was smooth beneath her hands, worn by generations of sons and daughters passing it on their way up to sleep into the loft of this house. Her father had once slept up here, across from her aunt Guin, and his father before him. Now it was she and her sisters who shared the small space. The twins fought constantly, quibbling about everything from the placement of their bed mats to the one who should receive the latest dress from Aunt Guin. Now, however, the twins were asleep, quiet for once, and Edrea had some quiet. Her ears were excellent.

She felt her feet hit the cool cottage floor, her left toes sliding off the warm wood of the ladder and making the tiniest plop on the floor. The sounds of the fire drew her, and the smell of tallow made her lips curve upward in a smile. She could feel the sudden heat as she entered the kitchen doorway, and the smell of chamomile wafted to her nose as her smile grew.

"Father." She reached out a hand to him, and he grasped it, his lips brushing her fingertips gently.

"My girl," he said quietly, pulling her onto his lap. She could feel the warm leather of the rough boot he held in his hand, and the rag with tallow he was carefully rubbing into it. "I've missed you, my dear," he said into her ear, handing her the cloth and reaching for his tea. The chamomile overpowered her senses briefly, and she began to work the tallow, feeling the nicks and scrapes on the boot with her fingertips.

"I missed you too," she responded, breathing in Father's woodsy scent and listening hard to see if the twins had heard her rise. They did not stir, and she didn't hear the sound of excited squeals in the loft. They missed many things, though they had no cause to. "Where were you gone this time? Besides -" she sniffed - "Plin Swamp and...and the mountains?"

Father chuckled. "All right, Plin Swamp I confess. You've been there enough times. But how did you know the mountains?"

"You smelled of sage last time you went. When you followed Reena to the treeline last year."

"You, Edrea, are something remarkable."

She smiled. She knew he could see it, even if she could not see his. She wiped her hand on her nightgown from the tallow, and reached up to feel Father's lips. He smiled broadly now, squeezing her in a tight hug.

"Would you like some tea?" Father asked, and she slid from his lap, heading for the larder.

"No, thank you." She counted her steps in her mind. Everyone knew to keep the kitchen floor clear of anything Edrea might trip over. Five, six, seven...And there was the larder. She opened it and reached inside, pulling out the blackberry preserves Mother had made lately, and some biscuits she'd baked herself. The twins had helped her (which was why some of them had burnt; they'd started arguing while Edrea was trying to get the biscuits out of the oven), but mostly it was her work. She had labored long to learn by heart each recipe she could make, and knew the containers by their feel and contents by scent.

"Breakfast?" She asked, spreading a thick layer of preserves on a biscuit and holding it out to Father. His  large hand cupped beneath hers, warm and calloused, and she dropped the food in. "I made biscuits myself," she stated triumphantly, feeling herself grin.

"We-ell," Father replied, and she heard him set his tea down. "Does that mean it's safe to eat? Or that it isn't?"

Edrea laughed, swatting at Father, but he had dodged out of reach. She prepared herself a biscuit and put away the food, moving back toward the fire. The heat stretched toward her, like a wave hitting the front of her body and curling around the edges, seeking for the back. A sudden terrifying memory hit her, as it always did when she encountered fire. The burning sensation of the flames licking her hair, singeing off her soft locks, her hands puffy with blisters, the salty tears that were agony as they fell on her tender skin...

Father had heard her sharp intake of breath, and moved to place his arm around her shoulder, a frame of gentle pressure that she leaned against for support. "You're much steadier now," he said. "And you have Idheus to help you."

Edrea's hand gripped Father's arm tightly, though she was leaning away from the fire now, until she took several deep, calming breaths and at last released her grip. It was then that she heard it: two voices whispering fiercely, and then squeals. Her sisters' noisy feet scampered to the ladder. They had finally discovered Father's presence. He'd come in very quietly so as not to disturb anyone, but Edrea's ears were hard to fool, and the twins must have heard her laughing. Now they clambered down the ladder and threw themselves at Father, giggling and asking, one on top of the other, if he'd brought them any presents.

As Father released Edrea, she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder encouragingly, and she busied herself with his now-empty tea mug by the fire, the tiniest smile flitting across her features.