Beauty and the Beast
Chapter 1
By: L.V. Scarlette
(R)
-----
A fork falls. A plate crashes. A glass breaks. These are the typical sounds of an early
morning at the Oaks. One would step in and notice the various noises before anything
else. There are only two other things a stranger could notice before these disastrous
crashes and the like. First would be the smell of fresh bread and soup. Beth always cooks
early in the morning. Her recipes are enough to wake up anybody regardless of the time.
The second, which people often notice outside our home either way, would be my sisters.
Elizabeth, or Beth, Hannah, and Serena Oaks. The oldest to youngest. I'm the third one.
Men notice Beth and Hannah. Everyone notices me. Don't get me wrong. I do not take
pride in it. I do not appreciate being paired up with this man and that man. It's quite hard
to explain. One would think I'm simply shy or trying to be modest. Shy is one thing far
from my mind. I'm only shy when it comes to the elderly and such - not the hormone
driven villagers who beg my father for my hand in marriage.
Oh, Father. Bless his good soul. He has encouraged me to fall in love before, but he has
never forced me. Of course, he tells me every now and then to act like a real lady,
especially around other young men my age. It is what any other parent would do. I even
sometimes give in and welcome the attempts to court me to please my father, but I never
had to do any more than that. You see, Father is growing older and longs to see me marry.
I want to please him. Any other parent would want their daughter or son to fall in love
and get married. However, Father has always set my happiness before his. Not once has
he forced me to say yes to man. If I explain things to him and give my admirer some time,
Father will listen. He'll come up with a decent excuse for me not to marry. I don't know
how he does it, but he saves me and my family's reputation. I love him.
But he will leave soon. Tomorrow. Father may be growing older, but he is still a strong
man. He's a merchant and often goes off on business trips. He goes off into towns and
sometimes even at sea. We're used to it, my sisters and I, but this time it's different. That's
why more things are being dropped today. Do you think we're this noisy everyday? Sure,
our plates clank and a fork will drop occasionally, but we never drop almost everything
we can get our hands on. If we do then we would be poor by now. We're fortunate we
have many plates from trade.
The moment Father told us he would leave, we've been either too silent or too jumpy.
My usually graceful sisters could barely hold a plate without tilting or shaking it. I even
dropped a few plates. Well, that's not really new. I may have the beauty but I don't have
the grace. I suppose it's because all I ever do is sit in one corner and read. When I work,
my work is the work of a man. My sisters spend time cooking and gardening. My last
attempt to cook went as far as cracking an egg. It didn't even land in the bowl.
So I've been trying to avoid plates ever since Father told us he would leave. Why is this
trip different from the others? We often worry while Father is away, but never like this.
You see, Father was sent off to Grover's Hill. It's not exactly a very prosperous land, but it
is rich with rare herbs, flowers, fish, and the like. To get to Grover's Hill, one must cut
through the forest. We actually live right by it. You would only have to ride a horse for a
good five minutes or so to reach the first few trees. We don't mind that. It's the heart of
the forest that we mind. Father has to cross it.
We fear the deep forest for two reasons. One is fact. The other is myth. However,
evidence has been served for both. The fact is merchants who have ventured into the
forest never reached Grover's Hill. They didn't return for weeks. When they did come
back, they came as skinny bones. Their once fat horses were often sick. One thing was for
sure. All who returned didn't just return as sick sticks. They returned as mentally ill ones.
They all looked horrible and often sputtered a word or two. Most of the time, that word
was "beast".
That's how the legend came about. Word has it that in the middle of the forest stands the
old castle of King Stephen Valcrowe the Third. He died one night. His family
disappeared. In their place was a beast - a beast who hunts passing merchants and starves
them until they bore him. That is why everyone prefers to take a ship and go around our
side of the land just to get past the forest by sea. Father couldn't afford a ship. You see,
Elizabeth is pregnant. All our money must be saved for the baby, especially since
Jonathan died. Jonathan was her husband.
Now I fear for Father's life. My sisters fear for Father's life. Father tries to make light of
the subject. I think he's trying to make us feel better, even though he's trembling inside. I
can't say for sure. Father has always been a man who puts his family's happiness and
safety above all things. If wearing a smile on his face every morning is the way to that,
then so be it.
Another plate crashed. I jumped a little, my mind finally pulled out of my thoughts. I
turned to face my sisters who were suddenly silent. I found this odd since everyone
usually picked up the broken pieces then ran off to continue previous chores. My family
could've been a bee colony. This time, it was different.
I shifted in my seat, still a little confused. I looked at Hannah. She had her hands
wrapped in her apron. Her face was pale and as still as a stone. She looked startled. That
was when I noticed that she was staring at Beth. I then shifted my gaze toward Beth. She
was leaning against the table, her face sweaty and red. Her eyes were closed. Quite the
opposite.
I suddenly stood up. That was when I noticed it. Beth's free hand was wrapped around
her stomach. At that very moment, Hannah looked up at me, her pale face turning as red
as Beth's. She looked sick and confused. I could've sworn she was going to run upstairs
and call Father. You see, Hannah may have both grace and beauty, but she never had self
control. Panic was in her blood. In times of danger, she would freeze then become
hysterical.
There was no need to call Father. As I've said earlier, bless his good soul. Father came
running down the stairs. Normally, any other parent would have complained about all the
noise. Father complained about the silence.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you all working?" His blue eyes fell upon Beth. I watched
those confused eyes widen. "Beth! Why, child I - "
"Father," she whispered. Her chest suddenly rose up and down rapidly, accompanying
her ragged breath. She began to cry. "Father, I don't know what..." Her sentence ended in
a high pitched scream.
"Good god, Hannah, go help your sister. I'm going to run out and get help."
It was my turn to panic. I never liked panicking. I was always the calm one. Luckily, I
pulled myself together just as quickly as I began to sweat. "I'll do it, Father. I'm faster.
You go help Beth. I'll be back soon."
I quickly ran outside, not waiting for Father's approval. I didn't mean it as an insult when
I said that I was faster. Father and I both knew that I've always been a fast runner. Having
no grace helped sometimes. It allowed me to jump over rocks recklessly. I found that to
my advantage. Since my body was accustomed to a man's work, my legs were built to run
like a man. Being a girl with a man's skills was good. I was rather slim, so I could
practically ride the wind.
However, I also found myself breathless. I came to an abrupt stop before Joan Wilson,
the mother of our nearest neighbor. "Baby," I breathed. I licked my parched lips. "The
baby...Beth...she's giving - "
"She's giving birth?" Joan shrieked.
I nodded weakly, amazingly relieved that I didn't have to say more. A person can be
rather speechless when tired and frightened.
"Right now?"
I nodded again.
"Good lord, child! Stay right there." She dashed into her home, calling out Mina's and
Martha's names. Mina was my best friend. We were like sisters. People sometimes even
thought we were twins. It was ironic, because Martha was her twin. They didn't look alike
though. Mina and I both had blonde hair and blue eyes. Martha had reddish blonde hair
and gray eyes.
Mina ran outside with a load of herbs in her apron. Joan came out from behind her with
a sealed bucket of water and blankets. "Go on, Serena," she said. "We'll follow."
I picked up my dress and ran again. I nearly tripped earlier since I forgot to lift it. I
wasn't about to let that happen again. Gathering all my strength, I ran even faster. I had to
hurry up. Beth being pregnant was bad enough. The problem was, Beth never had a lot of
courage. She was often scared even though she wasn't one to panic.
I suddenly stopped and looked back. Mina wasn't too far behind me. However, Martha
and Joan were still near their house.
"Go Serena," I heard Mina call out.
I quickly turned around and kept running. They knew where I lived. I figured they would
catch up soon. I slowed down to a jogging pace as the ground rose. Our land was very
hilly, and my house was perched on a low one. I could've sworn I was going to faint, but
the thought of a new baby and Beth's possible death kept me going.
My body finally reacted to a sensation other than the cool morning air. The warmth from
my house radiated even though I was still a few feet away. My hands then touched our
door as I burst in and landed oh, so gracelessly on a chair. It tipped over a little, but I
managed to plant my feet on the floor and keep it still. I leaned against it, not wanting to
stand up. I couldn't take it though. I reluctantly stood up.
Just then, Mina came in. I could see that Martha and Joan were not too far away. Mina
and I both went inside Beth's room. There I found her lying down on her bed with her legs
spread apart. My hand shot up to my mouth. Father was beside her. Hannah was sitting
down in a corner of the room with her head thrown back.
Father looked at us. His worried eyes suddenly cleared up with relief. I could almost feel
his emotions. I was relieved as well.
Mina rushed to Beth's bed. Joan and Martha suddenly came in and started spreading out
the towels and blankets. My heart had leapt to my throat. I wasn't expecting them to just
rush in like that. I figured that my heart was still a bit frantic from the mad dash I made
up and down the hill. I hoped I would never have to run like that again.
I then looked at Father. He looked older than ever. The worry which left his eyes earlier
had returned. He cast a worried glance at Hannah, then one at me. It was a silent order. I
knew that gaze, so I walked up to Hannah and touched her skin. It was cool and sticky. I
sighed. The girl fainted. Hannah probably panicked then collapsed.
Among the three of us sisters, I was the one who was most experienced with cleaning
wounds and healing others. I didn't mind the sight of blood, but they did. It was a surprise
since it was probably the only feminine thing that I was good at. However, nothing could
have prepared me for this.
Hannah moaned and turned her head. Her eyelids slowly opened. I reached out and
tucked away a light brown strand of hair. Then I hooked my blonde curls behind my ear. I
figured she would be fine, so I then turned to face Beth. She was screaming her lungs out.
I should have prepared myself for this. For the past months we've been preparing
ourselves for the baby in every way possible. It was too bad I didn't prepare myself for
actual birth. For some reason, it never occurred to me that I was going to help deliver the
baby.
I suddenly felt as sick as Hannah looked earlier. My eyelids felt heavy. I even saw my
own lashes flutter down then back up. I rocked back a bit. Sweat began to trail down my
skin, even though I suddenly felt cool. I took a deep breath and approached the bed. My
mind then registered the fact that Joan was already sitting down at the edge of the bed
with her hand between Beth's legs. Martha was beside her, taking and handing her things.
"Alright. That's a good girl. You're doing great, Beth. Just keep pushing," I heard Mina
say. She kept repeating words of encouragement and comfort to Beth. I thanked God for
that. Over the years I learned that the best way to make my sister calm down was to tell
her how good she was at controlling her fear.
I looked at Beth. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. I saw her stick her tongue
out to lick her lips. She barely did that. Her lips were still dry. She moved them to form
words, yet nothing came out but a few groans and screams of agony every now and then.
I walked over to her. I touched her hand and rubbed it gently. I noticed that Father was
doing the same to her other hand, even though both were clutching the sheets as if they
were her very life.
My eyes suddenly widened. I saw a trail of blood soak the once white sheets. It mixed
with the sweet, slowly deepening into a dark scarlet. Just then, I heard people talking
outside. I turned around and looked out the window, only to find crowds of neighbors
gathering by our doorstep.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Martha cut me off. "I'll go out and keep them
away. Serena, come here and help Beth. I'll explain things to them." She wiped her
bloody hands in her apron and walked out the room.
Mina looked up at me. I even felt Hannah's sleepy gaze on me. I knew what they were
expecting me to do, but I couldn't make myself move. My eyes scanned Joan. She was
still trying to deliver the baby. There was a puzzled yet worried look on her face. I looked
at Father. His head was bent down, his hand still on Beth's. Then I looked at Beth. Her
face was dripping with sweat. Her face was red and her lips were pursed. Her eyes were
shut tight and her nose was scrunched up. My heart sank. I didn't know if it was pity or
guilt, but the sight of my sister is agony made me suck in my breath and sit on the stool
Martha once sat on.
I could practically feel the tension ease from the room. Joan wasn't looking at me, but
she spoke to me. She ordered me to hand her another towel, so I did just that. I took the
bloody one from her hands and handed her a new one. I suddenly paused, not sure where
to put the bloody cloth. I then fount two piles of towels to my right. One was bloody and
the other was a pile of clean ones. I didn't even notice that I simply grabbed a clean one
without acknowledging where they were.
"I need the warm one," Joan said.
I tossed the bloody sheet along with the others and looked around for a towel soaked in
warm water. I found it next to the clean pile and quickly handed it to Joan. The whole
time, my stomach twisted and my cheeks heated up. I felt as if my stomach would push
out my dinner the night before. I swallowed what felt to be a big lump in my throat and
licked my lips. My heart was racing against the clouds in the sky. They rolled along with
the wind, allowing the sun to rise up high then slowly sink.
The next solid memory I remember thinking about was when I was Beth's room, holding
her hand. The bloody sheets were lying under new ones. The sky was almost dark. Beth
fell asleep for a while then woke up, still looking very drowsy. I felt drowsy. I had
nothing to eat the whole day. My stomach felt very empty and my head seemed to swirl,
but I ignored that. Father had reluctantly gone upstairs a few hours after the baby was
born. He had to get ready for his trip.
That was what bothered my heart at that time. Even with the joy of my sister's survival
and the new baby girl, I found myself worrying about Father again. Why did he have to
leave the next day, just when the baby was born? Why did even have to leave at all?
I felt Beth squeeze my hand. I looked down at her, my blue eyes smiling gently at her
tired green ones. She took a deep breath then looked at the sleeping child in her arms.
"We haven't named her yet," she whispered.
The thought suddenly dawned on me. It was true. We didn't name the child yet. I looked
at the baby. Hannah, who was sitting quietly on the other side of the bed, was watching
the new golden child as well. Hannah actually helped out. She handed me the herbs and
towels I needed to clean up and help ease the pain after the delivery.
Hannah rested her chin on her arm and yawned. I looked back at Beth. "What do you
think Father would name her?" I asked.
Beth sighed. "I don't know. I tried asking him earlier. He said I could name her whatever
I want to name her. I think he just doesn't want to think about the baby. He's going
tomorrow. I think it makes him sad..." Her voice faltered.
"I don't want him to go," Hannah sniffed. A tear trailed down her cheek. "He might
never come back."
I wanted to cry as well. The truth of her words stung. I lifted my free hand and wiped it
against my nose. "I don't want him to go either." I couldn't say more than that.
"Who does?" Beth whispered, her eyes resting on her daughter. I watched the two, my
heart throbbing with both sorrow and joy. When both came together, it wasn't a good mix.
You didn't know which one was stronger. You sometimes didn't even want to feel
anything since both feelings were overwhelming.
My eyes suddenly lit up. Of course! A name suddenly popped into my head after all that
was said. Beth seemed to notice. She was staring at me, her brows knitted together in
confusion. Hannah shifted her gaze.
"Serenity!" I exclaimed almost cheerfully. Serenity was our mother's name. I thought it
would be perfect. It was a name in honor of her, especially since she died. My heart sank
at the thought, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. It was a name Father would like.
At least that's what I thought. Besides, the very sight of my niece sleeping after all that
crying was pleasant. So calm. So serene. I liked the name.
Beth smiled. Hannah sat straight up again and kissed Serenity's small, pink hand. "I like
it," she said. Beth nodded.
Just then, Father came in. He was wearing the coat he always wore when traveling. He
looked fresh and younger. His gray hair even looked a little dark. However, his
expression was deep. Dark. Sorrowful. My heart wept.
Hannah ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his strong body. He embraced her
in return. I stared at him. I didn't want to move. For some reason, my feet remained rooted
to the floor. I feared that if I embraced him, I would cry and never let go. I feared that
being close to him the way a daughter would be to her father would simply result in more
agony for both of us when he would leave. I clenched my fists and looked away.
Beth flashed me a shocked glance, but she quickly turned to face Father. I could tell he
was hurt, but he approached Beth anyway and embraced her. She buried her head into his
neck. "Don't go."
His expression softened. He smiled at her. "Don't worry, child. You have a daughter
now. You must think of her. She needs you."
"Like we need you," Hannah whispered.
For a brief moment, I thought I saw Father's eyes moisten. However, he replaced the
tears he would have spilled with a weak smile. "Time will go by quickly. I'll be back
before you know it."
My sisters and I looked at each other. There were unspoken words between us. Tension
suddenly clouded the room then cleared as quickly as it came. We all turned away. I
simply bit my bottom lip. It was a habit of mine when I was nervous, confused, or the
like. At least Father was being optimistic. It helped sometimes. I knew I should have been
crying, but the way he always seemed to smile through everything made my heart lighter.
My body responded to this thought and embraced Father.
I held on a bit tighter before I could let go. I knew he was a little startled, but he
embraced me in return. "I was thinking," he began, "that maybe I could buy something for
you. I'll arrive there safely, so I might as well bring you something." He paused. I knew he
was simply trying to confirm his safety. "What do you want?"
"We want you back soon," Hannah snapped, her eyes eager and startled.
"Yes, Father, we only want you back home without a scratch on your body," Beth
whispered.
I looked up to face Father. I couldn't read his expression. It seemed to be a mix of worry,
doubt, guilt. I didn't know for sure. I guessed that we had hurt him by turning down his
offer, but he understood us. He understood what we wanted. He understood our fear of
having him leave and only wanting him to return in one piece. Didn't he? What if he
wanted to return with presents for us because he feared that he wouldn't return at all? That
didn't make sense, yet it made the most frightening sense in the world.
I looked down shamefully. I knew that guilt must have been written all over my face. I
wanted to keep my head down, but feeling my father's eyes upon me made me look up
cautiously.
"What about you, Serena?" he asked. "Don't you want anything?"
My hand gripped his coat. I didn't want to turn him down. I had a sinking feeling that he
felt whatever presents he could bring back were the last presents he could ever give us. I
looked at Beth and Hannah as if the permission would come from them. They simply
stared at me. Beth suddenly turned away. I figured that she understood my guilt.
"You know, Father, there is something you could give us," Beth said thoughtfully.
Hannah looked surprised, but her features instantly softened to shame. I began to panic a
little. There was that panic again. I didn't like it. What would we tell Father just when we
told him there's something he could buy? Something he could give us? I bit my bottom
lip. All these thoughts rushed in. Couldn't he just pick something off the ground and give
that to us?
My head snapped up to face Father. "I know what you can give us."
Beth and Hannah looked at me. Father's eyes lit up. I smiled at him. "Father, you don't
have to buy us anything. You can give us something though." I paused for a moment,
rethinking my words. Then I continued. "On your way, if it isn't too much trouble, you
could pick up a weed or a flower of some sort from the ground. It's not much, but I think
it would be the perfect gift for us." I turned to face Beth and Hannah cautiously, not sure
if they thought my idea was a good one. "Right?"
Hannah's eyes sparkled. "Yes, Father! That's all we need. Just a flower for us. Why, I
wouldn't mind placing it in a vase at our table."
"Yes," Beth agreed cheerfully. "We would love to wake up that one special flower you
could give us. Imagine it. One beautiful flower there to greet us every morning. It would
be perfect!"
Father looked amused. "But why a flower? We have many flowers growing here
already," he said doubtfully.
"Because it would be a flower that you yourself plucked for us from a different land," I
whispered. It was the first thing that came out of my mouth, and I actually didn't regret
saying it. "Just one flower would be beautiful, Father. Just one for all us. Any flower will
do. A rose, a pretty weed...anything."
Father gave each of us a doubtful look, as if he was expecting us to take back our words
and ask for something else. However, we all simply stared at him. The silence wasn't
depressing this time. It was hopeful, even though it made me nervous. I didn't want to
offend Father.
Finally, he sighed and nodded. I thanked God heartily for the surprising cheerfulness in
our voices. It was convincing enough to make Father believe that we really wanted a
flower. I smiled and rested my cheek on his shoulder. What I didn't understand was how
the idea of how our cheerfulness could make Father so determined to find a flower,
though there must be plenty, would also place him in the way of something so
unimaginable...
-----
AN: Please excuse any errors.
Chapter 1
By: L.V. Scarlette
(R)
-----
A fork falls. A plate crashes. A glass breaks. These are the typical sounds of an early
morning at the Oaks. One would step in and notice the various noises before anything
else. There are only two other things a stranger could notice before these disastrous
crashes and the like. First would be the smell of fresh bread and soup. Beth always cooks
early in the morning. Her recipes are enough to wake up anybody regardless of the time.
The second, which people often notice outside our home either way, would be my sisters.
Elizabeth, or Beth, Hannah, and Serena Oaks. The oldest to youngest. I'm the third one.
Men notice Beth and Hannah. Everyone notices me. Don't get me wrong. I do not take
pride in it. I do not appreciate being paired up with this man and that man. It's quite hard
to explain. One would think I'm simply shy or trying to be modest. Shy is one thing far
from my mind. I'm only shy when it comes to the elderly and such - not the hormone
driven villagers who beg my father for my hand in marriage.
Oh, Father. Bless his good soul. He has encouraged me to fall in love before, but he has
never forced me. Of course, he tells me every now and then to act like a real lady,
especially around other young men my age. It is what any other parent would do. I even
sometimes give in and welcome the attempts to court me to please my father, but I never
had to do any more than that. You see, Father is growing older and longs to see me marry.
I want to please him. Any other parent would want their daughter or son to fall in love
and get married. However, Father has always set my happiness before his. Not once has
he forced me to say yes to man. If I explain things to him and give my admirer some time,
Father will listen. He'll come up with a decent excuse for me not to marry. I don't know
how he does it, but he saves me and my family's reputation. I love him.
But he will leave soon. Tomorrow. Father may be growing older, but he is still a strong
man. He's a merchant and often goes off on business trips. He goes off into towns and
sometimes even at sea. We're used to it, my sisters and I, but this time it's different. That's
why more things are being dropped today. Do you think we're this noisy everyday? Sure,
our plates clank and a fork will drop occasionally, but we never drop almost everything
we can get our hands on. If we do then we would be poor by now. We're fortunate we
have many plates from trade.
The moment Father told us he would leave, we've been either too silent or too jumpy.
My usually graceful sisters could barely hold a plate without tilting or shaking it. I even
dropped a few plates. Well, that's not really new. I may have the beauty but I don't have
the grace. I suppose it's because all I ever do is sit in one corner and read. When I work,
my work is the work of a man. My sisters spend time cooking and gardening. My last
attempt to cook went as far as cracking an egg. It didn't even land in the bowl.
So I've been trying to avoid plates ever since Father told us he would leave. Why is this
trip different from the others? We often worry while Father is away, but never like this.
You see, Father was sent off to Grover's Hill. It's not exactly a very prosperous land, but it
is rich with rare herbs, flowers, fish, and the like. To get to Grover's Hill, one must cut
through the forest. We actually live right by it. You would only have to ride a horse for a
good five minutes or so to reach the first few trees. We don't mind that. It's the heart of
the forest that we mind. Father has to cross it.
We fear the deep forest for two reasons. One is fact. The other is myth. However,
evidence has been served for both. The fact is merchants who have ventured into the
forest never reached Grover's Hill. They didn't return for weeks. When they did come
back, they came as skinny bones. Their once fat horses were often sick. One thing was for
sure. All who returned didn't just return as sick sticks. They returned as mentally ill ones.
They all looked horrible and often sputtered a word or two. Most of the time, that word
was "beast".
That's how the legend came about. Word has it that in the middle of the forest stands the
old castle of King Stephen Valcrowe the Third. He died one night. His family
disappeared. In their place was a beast - a beast who hunts passing merchants and starves
them until they bore him. That is why everyone prefers to take a ship and go around our
side of the land just to get past the forest by sea. Father couldn't afford a ship. You see,
Elizabeth is pregnant. All our money must be saved for the baby, especially since
Jonathan died. Jonathan was her husband.
Now I fear for Father's life. My sisters fear for Father's life. Father tries to make light of
the subject. I think he's trying to make us feel better, even though he's trembling inside. I
can't say for sure. Father has always been a man who puts his family's happiness and
safety above all things. If wearing a smile on his face every morning is the way to that,
then so be it.
Another plate crashed. I jumped a little, my mind finally pulled out of my thoughts. I
turned to face my sisters who were suddenly silent. I found this odd since everyone
usually picked up the broken pieces then ran off to continue previous chores. My family
could've been a bee colony. This time, it was different.
I shifted in my seat, still a little confused. I looked at Hannah. She had her hands
wrapped in her apron. Her face was pale and as still as a stone. She looked startled. That
was when I noticed that she was staring at Beth. I then shifted my gaze toward Beth. She
was leaning against the table, her face sweaty and red. Her eyes were closed. Quite the
opposite.
I suddenly stood up. That was when I noticed it. Beth's free hand was wrapped around
her stomach. At that very moment, Hannah looked up at me, her pale face turning as red
as Beth's. She looked sick and confused. I could've sworn she was going to run upstairs
and call Father. You see, Hannah may have both grace and beauty, but she never had self
control. Panic was in her blood. In times of danger, she would freeze then become
hysterical.
There was no need to call Father. As I've said earlier, bless his good soul. Father came
running down the stairs. Normally, any other parent would have complained about all the
noise. Father complained about the silence.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you all working?" His blue eyes fell upon Beth. I watched
those confused eyes widen. "Beth! Why, child I - "
"Father," she whispered. Her chest suddenly rose up and down rapidly, accompanying
her ragged breath. She began to cry. "Father, I don't know what..." Her sentence ended in
a high pitched scream.
"Good god, Hannah, go help your sister. I'm going to run out and get help."
It was my turn to panic. I never liked panicking. I was always the calm one. Luckily, I
pulled myself together just as quickly as I began to sweat. "I'll do it, Father. I'm faster.
You go help Beth. I'll be back soon."
I quickly ran outside, not waiting for Father's approval. I didn't mean it as an insult when
I said that I was faster. Father and I both knew that I've always been a fast runner. Having
no grace helped sometimes. It allowed me to jump over rocks recklessly. I found that to
my advantage. Since my body was accustomed to a man's work, my legs were built to run
like a man. Being a girl with a man's skills was good. I was rather slim, so I could
practically ride the wind.
However, I also found myself breathless. I came to an abrupt stop before Joan Wilson,
the mother of our nearest neighbor. "Baby," I breathed. I licked my parched lips. "The
baby...Beth...she's giving - "
"She's giving birth?" Joan shrieked.
I nodded weakly, amazingly relieved that I didn't have to say more. A person can be
rather speechless when tired and frightened.
"Right now?"
I nodded again.
"Good lord, child! Stay right there." She dashed into her home, calling out Mina's and
Martha's names. Mina was my best friend. We were like sisters. People sometimes even
thought we were twins. It was ironic, because Martha was her twin. They didn't look alike
though. Mina and I both had blonde hair and blue eyes. Martha had reddish blonde hair
and gray eyes.
Mina ran outside with a load of herbs in her apron. Joan came out from behind her with
a sealed bucket of water and blankets. "Go on, Serena," she said. "We'll follow."
I picked up my dress and ran again. I nearly tripped earlier since I forgot to lift it. I
wasn't about to let that happen again. Gathering all my strength, I ran even faster. I had to
hurry up. Beth being pregnant was bad enough. The problem was, Beth never had a lot of
courage. She was often scared even though she wasn't one to panic.
I suddenly stopped and looked back. Mina wasn't too far behind me. However, Martha
and Joan were still near their house.
"Go Serena," I heard Mina call out.
I quickly turned around and kept running. They knew where I lived. I figured they would
catch up soon. I slowed down to a jogging pace as the ground rose. Our land was very
hilly, and my house was perched on a low one. I could've sworn I was going to faint, but
the thought of a new baby and Beth's possible death kept me going.
My body finally reacted to a sensation other than the cool morning air. The warmth from
my house radiated even though I was still a few feet away. My hands then touched our
door as I burst in and landed oh, so gracelessly on a chair. It tipped over a little, but I
managed to plant my feet on the floor and keep it still. I leaned against it, not wanting to
stand up. I couldn't take it though. I reluctantly stood up.
Just then, Mina came in. I could see that Martha and Joan were not too far away. Mina
and I both went inside Beth's room. There I found her lying down on her bed with her legs
spread apart. My hand shot up to my mouth. Father was beside her. Hannah was sitting
down in a corner of the room with her head thrown back.
Father looked at us. His worried eyes suddenly cleared up with relief. I could almost feel
his emotions. I was relieved as well.
Mina rushed to Beth's bed. Joan and Martha suddenly came in and started spreading out
the towels and blankets. My heart had leapt to my throat. I wasn't expecting them to just
rush in like that. I figured that my heart was still a bit frantic from the mad dash I made
up and down the hill. I hoped I would never have to run like that again.
I then looked at Father. He looked older than ever. The worry which left his eyes earlier
had returned. He cast a worried glance at Hannah, then one at me. It was a silent order. I
knew that gaze, so I walked up to Hannah and touched her skin. It was cool and sticky. I
sighed. The girl fainted. Hannah probably panicked then collapsed.
Among the three of us sisters, I was the one who was most experienced with cleaning
wounds and healing others. I didn't mind the sight of blood, but they did. It was a surprise
since it was probably the only feminine thing that I was good at. However, nothing could
have prepared me for this.
Hannah moaned and turned her head. Her eyelids slowly opened. I reached out and
tucked away a light brown strand of hair. Then I hooked my blonde curls behind my ear. I
figured she would be fine, so I then turned to face Beth. She was screaming her lungs out.
I should have prepared myself for this. For the past months we've been preparing
ourselves for the baby in every way possible. It was too bad I didn't prepare myself for
actual birth. For some reason, it never occurred to me that I was going to help deliver the
baby.
I suddenly felt as sick as Hannah looked earlier. My eyelids felt heavy. I even saw my
own lashes flutter down then back up. I rocked back a bit. Sweat began to trail down my
skin, even though I suddenly felt cool. I took a deep breath and approached the bed. My
mind then registered the fact that Joan was already sitting down at the edge of the bed
with her hand between Beth's legs. Martha was beside her, taking and handing her things.
"Alright. That's a good girl. You're doing great, Beth. Just keep pushing," I heard Mina
say. She kept repeating words of encouragement and comfort to Beth. I thanked God for
that. Over the years I learned that the best way to make my sister calm down was to tell
her how good she was at controlling her fear.
I looked at Beth. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. I saw her stick her tongue
out to lick her lips. She barely did that. Her lips were still dry. She moved them to form
words, yet nothing came out but a few groans and screams of agony every now and then.
I walked over to her. I touched her hand and rubbed it gently. I noticed that Father was
doing the same to her other hand, even though both were clutching the sheets as if they
were her very life.
My eyes suddenly widened. I saw a trail of blood soak the once white sheets. It mixed
with the sweet, slowly deepening into a dark scarlet. Just then, I heard people talking
outside. I turned around and looked out the window, only to find crowds of neighbors
gathering by our doorstep.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Martha cut me off. "I'll go out and keep them
away. Serena, come here and help Beth. I'll explain things to them." She wiped her
bloody hands in her apron and walked out the room.
Mina looked up at me. I even felt Hannah's sleepy gaze on me. I knew what they were
expecting me to do, but I couldn't make myself move. My eyes scanned Joan. She was
still trying to deliver the baby. There was a puzzled yet worried look on her face. I looked
at Father. His head was bent down, his hand still on Beth's. Then I looked at Beth. Her
face was dripping with sweat. Her face was red and her lips were pursed. Her eyes were
shut tight and her nose was scrunched up. My heart sank. I didn't know if it was pity or
guilt, but the sight of my sister is agony made me suck in my breath and sit on the stool
Martha once sat on.
I could practically feel the tension ease from the room. Joan wasn't looking at me, but
she spoke to me. She ordered me to hand her another towel, so I did just that. I took the
bloody one from her hands and handed her a new one. I suddenly paused, not sure where
to put the bloody cloth. I then fount two piles of towels to my right. One was bloody and
the other was a pile of clean ones. I didn't even notice that I simply grabbed a clean one
without acknowledging where they were.
"I need the warm one," Joan said.
I tossed the bloody sheet along with the others and looked around for a towel soaked in
warm water. I found it next to the clean pile and quickly handed it to Joan. The whole
time, my stomach twisted and my cheeks heated up. I felt as if my stomach would push
out my dinner the night before. I swallowed what felt to be a big lump in my throat and
licked my lips. My heart was racing against the clouds in the sky. They rolled along with
the wind, allowing the sun to rise up high then slowly sink.
The next solid memory I remember thinking about was when I was Beth's room, holding
her hand. The bloody sheets were lying under new ones. The sky was almost dark. Beth
fell asleep for a while then woke up, still looking very drowsy. I felt drowsy. I had
nothing to eat the whole day. My stomach felt very empty and my head seemed to swirl,
but I ignored that. Father had reluctantly gone upstairs a few hours after the baby was
born. He had to get ready for his trip.
That was what bothered my heart at that time. Even with the joy of my sister's survival
and the new baby girl, I found myself worrying about Father again. Why did he have to
leave the next day, just when the baby was born? Why did even have to leave at all?
I felt Beth squeeze my hand. I looked down at her, my blue eyes smiling gently at her
tired green ones. She took a deep breath then looked at the sleeping child in her arms.
"We haven't named her yet," she whispered.
The thought suddenly dawned on me. It was true. We didn't name the child yet. I looked
at the baby. Hannah, who was sitting quietly on the other side of the bed, was watching
the new golden child as well. Hannah actually helped out. She handed me the herbs and
towels I needed to clean up and help ease the pain after the delivery.
Hannah rested her chin on her arm and yawned. I looked back at Beth. "What do you
think Father would name her?" I asked.
Beth sighed. "I don't know. I tried asking him earlier. He said I could name her whatever
I want to name her. I think he just doesn't want to think about the baby. He's going
tomorrow. I think it makes him sad..." Her voice faltered.
"I don't want him to go," Hannah sniffed. A tear trailed down her cheek. "He might
never come back."
I wanted to cry as well. The truth of her words stung. I lifted my free hand and wiped it
against my nose. "I don't want him to go either." I couldn't say more than that.
"Who does?" Beth whispered, her eyes resting on her daughter. I watched the two, my
heart throbbing with both sorrow and joy. When both came together, it wasn't a good mix.
You didn't know which one was stronger. You sometimes didn't even want to feel
anything since both feelings were overwhelming.
My eyes suddenly lit up. Of course! A name suddenly popped into my head after all that
was said. Beth seemed to notice. She was staring at me, her brows knitted together in
confusion. Hannah shifted her gaze.
"Serenity!" I exclaimed almost cheerfully. Serenity was our mother's name. I thought it
would be perfect. It was a name in honor of her, especially since she died. My heart sank
at the thought, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. It was a name Father would like.
At least that's what I thought. Besides, the very sight of my niece sleeping after all that
crying was pleasant. So calm. So serene. I liked the name.
Beth smiled. Hannah sat straight up again and kissed Serenity's small, pink hand. "I like
it," she said. Beth nodded.
Just then, Father came in. He was wearing the coat he always wore when traveling. He
looked fresh and younger. His gray hair even looked a little dark. However, his
expression was deep. Dark. Sorrowful. My heart wept.
Hannah ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his strong body. He embraced her
in return. I stared at him. I didn't want to move. For some reason, my feet remained rooted
to the floor. I feared that if I embraced him, I would cry and never let go. I feared that
being close to him the way a daughter would be to her father would simply result in more
agony for both of us when he would leave. I clenched my fists and looked away.
Beth flashed me a shocked glance, but she quickly turned to face Father. I could tell he
was hurt, but he approached Beth anyway and embraced her. She buried her head into his
neck. "Don't go."
His expression softened. He smiled at her. "Don't worry, child. You have a daughter
now. You must think of her. She needs you."
"Like we need you," Hannah whispered.
For a brief moment, I thought I saw Father's eyes moisten. However, he replaced the
tears he would have spilled with a weak smile. "Time will go by quickly. I'll be back
before you know it."
My sisters and I looked at each other. There were unspoken words between us. Tension
suddenly clouded the room then cleared as quickly as it came. We all turned away. I
simply bit my bottom lip. It was a habit of mine when I was nervous, confused, or the
like. At least Father was being optimistic. It helped sometimes. I knew I should have been
crying, but the way he always seemed to smile through everything made my heart lighter.
My body responded to this thought and embraced Father.
I held on a bit tighter before I could let go. I knew he was a little startled, but he
embraced me in return. "I was thinking," he began, "that maybe I could buy something for
you. I'll arrive there safely, so I might as well bring you something." He paused. I knew he
was simply trying to confirm his safety. "What do you want?"
"We want you back soon," Hannah snapped, her eyes eager and startled.
"Yes, Father, we only want you back home without a scratch on your body," Beth
whispered.
I looked up to face Father. I couldn't read his expression. It seemed to be a mix of worry,
doubt, guilt. I didn't know for sure. I guessed that we had hurt him by turning down his
offer, but he understood us. He understood what we wanted. He understood our fear of
having him leave and only wanting him to return in one piece. Didn't he? What if he
wanted to return with presents for us because he feared that he wouldn't return at all? That
didn't make sense, yet it made the most frightening sense in the world.
I looked down shamefully. I knew that guilt must have been written all over my face. I
wanted to keep my head down, but feeling my father's eyes upon me made me look up
cautiously.
"What about you, Serena?" he asked. "Don't you want anything?"
My hand gripped his coat. I didn't want to turn him down. I had a sinking feeling that he
felt whatever presents he could bring back were the last presents he could ever give us. I
looked at Beth and Hannah as if the permission would come from them. They simply
stared at me. Beth suddenly turned away. I figured that she understood my guilt.
"You know, Father, there is something you could give us," Beth said thoughtfully.
Hannah looked surprised, but her features instantly softened to shame. I began to panic a
little. There was that panic again. I didn't like it. What would we tell Father just when we
told him there's something he could buy? Something he could give us? I bit my bottom
lip. All these thoughts rushed in. Couldn't he just pick something off the ground and give
that to us?
My head snapped up to face Father. "I know what you can give us."
Beth and Hannah looked at me. Father's eyes lit up. I smiled at him. "Father, you don't
have to buy us anything. You can give us something though." I paused for a moment,
rethinking my words. Then I continued. "On your way, if it isn't too much trouble, you
could pick up a weed or a flower of some sort from the ground. It's not much, but I think
it would be the perfect gift for us." I turned to face Beth and Hannah cautiously, not sure
if they thought my idea was a good one. "Right?"
Hannah's eyes sparkled. "Yes, Father! That's all we need. Just a flower for us. Why, I
wouldn't mind placing it in a vase at our table."
"Yes," Beth agreed cheerfully. "We would love to wake up that one special flower you
could give us. Imagine it. One beautiful flower there to greet us every morning. It would
be perfect!"
Father looked amused. "But why a flower? We have many flowers growing here
already," he said doubtfully.
"Because it would be a flower that you yourself plucked for us from a different land," I
whispered. It was the first thing that came out of my mouth, and I actually didn't regret
saying it. "Just one flower would be beautiful, Father. Just one for all us. Any flower will
do. A rose, a pretty weed...anything."
Father gave each of us a doubtful look, as if he was expecting us to take back our words
and ask for something else. However, we all simply stared at him. The silence wasn't
depressing this time. It was hopeful, even though it made me nervous. I didn't want to
offend Father.
Finally, he sighed and nodded. I thanked God heartily for the surprising cheerfulness in
our voices. It was convincing enough to make Father believe that we really wanted a
flower. I smiled and rested my cheek on his shoulder. What I didn't understand was how
the idea of how our cheerfulness could make Father so determined to find a flower,
though there must be plenty, would also place him in the way of something so
unimaginable...
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AN: Please excuse any errors.
