The contiuation of the "Eleanor and Marian" story that I am collaborating on with my good friend on the blog - www.notightsallowed.blogspot.com. Let us know what you think!
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The fire was dying down with a crackling sound and the moon had been in the sky for hours by the time we had all finished talking that first night. We told Father of the past five years and all that had transpired in that time. Of the new sheriff and all that evil man had done. The taxation that had bled the county dry; the famines that had come and gone. And Father told us of the far desert country he had spent these long years in. The Saracens and their weapons; of battle fought and battles lost; of friends and enemies; and of his homesickness that dogged him at every turn. Father was sleeping by the time the fire was down. I had Cecily go and get blankets to cover him while Marian and I built up the fire again. I sent the girls up to bed, but I lingered down below watching the man that all our hopes were pinned on. In his sleep he twitched and his brow bunched into angry furrows. What had this war done to him?
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I was up before dawn the next morning with the sky still dark and the last thought of night present. After going out for eggs I was in the kitchen beginning breakfast. Nan’s day off was every other Saturday, and so I was on my own today. I loved working in the kitchen early in the morning before everyone else was up. It gave me time to think without constant distractions.
I cracked an egg into a wooden bowl and began making biscuits. All of a sudden Father walked into the kitchen. We said good morning to each other and I turned back to my cooking. He went to the corner and sat in the rocking chair that Nan used to knit when the weather was coming up on the colder months. For quite some time we both said nothing. I worked on content with the knowledge that he was home safe and sound.
Then he spoke, “Oh Eleanor, I should never have left you here with the girls.” And he sighed.
“Father, there was a war,” I said stopping my work to look at him, “All able bodied men were called. You had to go.”
Rubbing a hand over his weary face he shook his head, “I could have paid to have another go in my place. I could have stayed and helped raise the girls. No little girl should be forced to become mother to her little sisters, when she herself was a child.”
I truly didn’t know what to say. It had been my secret thought for five years now that I should never have had to take over the care of my sisters. But the only way that could have been avoided would have been if my mother hadn’t died. But what was done was done. There was no going back. I didn’t want Father to regret what he had to do. Although he was blaming himself now, I knew that the blame would be pointed elsewhere soon enough.
“Father,” I walked over and laid my hand on his broad shoulder, “You did your duty to your country. Everyone had to make sacrifices. Even if you had stayed, we would have paid dearly in some way. And besides,” I said straitening up, “Raising the girls would have been my chore if you had stayed anyway.”
“You are a wise one, Eleanor.” Father said as he grasped my hand, “I owe you so much. How would we have gotten through these past five years without you?”
“You did your duty and I did mine.” I said with more courage than I felt. In truth, I wanted to cry.
Father let go of my hand and stared at the kitchen fire on the other side of the room. I walked over to the table and began cooking again. I wish he could throw off the dense fog of depression. It was a joyful day that he was now back home. Why keep looking at the bleak past?
“Eleanor,” he said breaking my thoughts, “Why don’t you take a day off. Go and have fun. Leave the house and go to town or something. I owe you that much at least.”
I turned to him in surprise. A day off? I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a whole day to myself. With no cooking, cleaning, sewing or watching the girls and farm animals.
“Really?” I barely dared to breathe.
“Yes. Go and wake Marian to have her finish the breakfast. You go wash up and get dressed.”
I rushed over to Father and hugged him. This gift he had just given me was worth more than anything he could have brought back from the Holy Land. I went up the stairs two at a time to wake Marian. She normally got up right as dawn was coming. She seemed to have a fascination with watching the morning color rise. Going into her room I was not surprised to see her just waking.
“Hurry up, sleepy head.” I said as I brought her clothes for the day.
“What’s with you? I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She said a bit snappily. The first hour after she woke was not her best on terms of cheerfulness.
“Father needs you to finish making breakfast.”
And with that I had left the room and was in mine getting dressed for a day of no work. Seeing as I was not going to work, I chose my best dress and my oriental shawl that Father had brought back for me.
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~Aithne Someris~
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