On moonless nights her love came to her.
The children all knew the pattern of things: once a month the fire was extinguished promptly at sundown. No candles were permitted on those evenings, no sitting up late by the hearth, telling stories and squabbling, nor laying awake in their beds and exchanging whispers and giggles all the night long. Everyone was to be quiet.
As the sun approached the horizon Mother would make her rounds, stopping by each of the beds in that little bedroom, the current baby bound to her breast in a sling and her eyes shining with an undefinable light. She would stop at each bed with its three, or perhaps only two, children and stoop to share an intimate farewell with each of them. Then she would move to the next bed. Eight individual caresses, eight personalized goodnights, Then, if it was warm, she would cross to the big window that faced West and fling open the shutters, revealing the purple and orange streaked sky. This done Mother settled heavily in the rocker, perhaps putting the baby to her breast if it became fussy, and began telling her story.
On these nights it was always the same tale and on these nights it was always ended just before the last tip of the sun disappeared behind the distant blue hills. She stood then and crossed to the door with all her quiet dignity. But before she left she would turn and survey each of them in turn and say, "Go to sleep now, my littlest loves, and do not rise nor speak until the light peeks through the cracks in the eastern window." Then she was gone and with her the last of the sun, melting away behind the horizon.
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The baby took a while to settle down, as babies do, but Psyche did not mind. This infant, unlike her brothers, was a happy little thing most of the time and not difficult to please. So Psyche sat on the edge of her bed and soothed her youngest daughter in the perfect, complete stillness of this darkest of nights. Eventually the baby slept and Psyche left her on the bed and began pacing up and down her bedroom, keeping one hand on the wall to guide her way in the darkness. Up, down. Up, down. Soon now.
It was too long, it was always too long. These first moments alone, with her children asleep, with the house swathed in darkness, a cold and dreadful fear always gripped her: the fear of abandonment. Perhaps this time was different. Perhaps he did not care. Perhaps the money would dry up and one by one her children would wither away and die before her eyes.
But then… was it the wind? No. There was the latch on the door clicking. There were the booted footsteps approaching and the ever-so-slight rustling from the children's bedroom, reminding her that the older children were awake and listening. Now the creak of the hall door, now his breathing to accompany his steps. Seized with a sudden boldness she lunged for the doorknob and flung open the bedroom door. Instantly she was acutely aware of his location for his presence had ever transcended darkness.
He raised a hand and she raised hers and their fingers intertwined, locked, and formed an unbreakable link by which she drew him into the bedroom. He closed the door.
"You are well?"
He asked that every time. They were the first words he had ever spoken to her. And always she answered the same.
"I am well enough to do what is necessary."
She felt, rather than saw, him smile. "So must we all be, my love."
Psyche leaned into him, her every care seeming to melt away into his solid, unmovable form. "Oh, husband… I miss you each time. But this especially."
"Why is that?"
"The rumors… rumors they will begin cutting down houses like ours. Cutting down houses where the children seem to come from nowhere and the bread is bought each day but there is no discernable income. They talk of destroying us."
He pulled away from her and sat wearily on the bed, keeping one hand entwined with hers so that they would not lose one another.
"I know. They fear what they do not understand."
"But what am I to do?" A tremor entered her voice, one he rarely heard. His wife was a strong, hardened woman. Sleepless nights, endless pregnancies, illness, colicy infants, miscarriages, insubordinate sons: none of these could faze her any longer. She met all with her head held high, handled them without a man by her side to guide her through, and scarcely seemed affected. But this… she was truly afraid. As she should be. Sometimes he wished his wife was not quite so perceptive.
"I would not darken what little time we have together with these matters. I will wake you early in the morning and tell you what must be done if the worst comes to worst. Until then let us enjoy one another's company. Now, where is the baby?"
Author's Note:
Ayyyy. I wrote this the other day and then I realized it was a spin on Psyche and Cupid's story. Which is epic and I love that myth so I figured I'd throw it up and see what response I got. Let me know what you think and I might continue! Otherwise it's a good one-shot, I think.
Have a lovely day, everyone! Lots of love,
Katerina13