Chapter 2
I go downstairs. My sister is asleep on the couch. I enter my mother's room. She is lying in bed with her eyes open.
"How are you mother?"
She appears more alert than I've seen in days. My mother has often spoken of the ways of the dying. Toward the end there is frequently a flare of vigor, as if the body gathers up all of its reserves to take one last stab at life. I suspect that is what is happening now.
"Hungry," she murmurs.
I prepare some bread softened with milk. I help her sit up, propped against the pillow. Carefully I dole out a spoonful from the dish. Her appetite is good, but I feed her slowly to keep the food down.
Whether or not to mention the toasting weights heavy on my mind. I am reluctant to tell her since my decision was motivated by her imminent death. But perhaps she will be comforted to know that Prim will be safe from the reaping bowl. That her daughters will not be homeless when she breathes her last.
"Were there visitors last night?" she asks, when the meal ends. "I heard voices. Or maybe I dreamed them."
"There was a toasting here last night."
Her eyes are as big as saucers. "Who?"
"Peeta Mellark, the baker's son."
"No, Katniss." She starts to cry.
"It's all right." I rub her arm gently to comfort her.
"It's not." She trembles. "Life is hard enough. You need someone you love, someone who makes your heart sing, to make things easier."
My parent's love story was epic. My mother defied her family by marrying a man from the Seam, by leaving the comfortable life of a Merchant's daughter to live the hard scrabble life of a Seam wife. When he died in a mine explosion, she nearly went crazy. It took years for her to regain some semblance of living. I guess, to her, my marriage of convenience is a misfortune.
"Peeta is a good person," I say repeating Prim's words after the baker came to our home. "He will be kind to me."
She wipes her tears away. "Does his family know?"
"Not yet." I don't tell her the baker was the one who suggested it. I also leave out the part about the Dressers as well. It will only alarm her.
"Did he spend the night here?" she whispers.
"No," I mutter, my face growing warm as I remember our heated moments last night.
"There is a tea," my mother says.
"Nothing happened."
"Maybe not yet Katniss, but it will." She tells me of a plant whose blossoms can be dried and then steeped overnight to make a tea. "Drink it after you come together," she says. "It will prevent pregnancy until you are ready. But don't wait too long to conceive. You're married to a Merchant. You must produce an heir."
My mother's frank words make me cringe. A shiver goes down my spine as I think of the Dressers' plight. Think that I must provide Peeta with a child in the future if he is to keep the bakery.
Her head falls back onto the pillow. "I'm tired." Her eyes shut and I fear I may be witnessing her death. I hope her last words to me were not those of a recipe to prevent pregnancy.
However her breathing remains strong. I take the empty dish and spoon to the kitchen and leave a note for Prim. I will go to the woods and check my snares. No time to hunt today. Peeta and I need to go to the Justice Building and file paperwork.
When I return from the woods, with two rabbits, Prim has already left for school. I check on my mother. She still sleeps. Her breathing remains steady. I set a glass of water on the table next to her bed.
I wash up and change my clothes. I own one dress. It's blue and faded and belonged to my mother when she was young. I haven't worn it in two years. I put it on and it fits the same, loose at the chest and waist.
I leave one rabbit behind for our supper. The other stays in my game bag so I can sell it to Sae at the Hob.
Sae asks me why I'm dressed up. I tell her I am off to the Justice Building to be legally wed.
"Who?"
"Peeta Mellark." I see no reason to keep it secret. The word will be out soon enough.
By the time I leave Sae, it's late morning. I'm hoping that the rush in the bakery has ended.
I knock at the back door. Peeta answers it. The bruise on his face has turned bright purple. He is wearing his apron, spattered with dried up pieces of dough. My cheeks burn as I remember the feel of his lips on mine, our bodies pressing together.
A shy smile appears on his face. "Just a minute. I need to tell my Dad I'm going out."
"Where is your mother?"
"Working the front counter."
He closes the door and I wait on the back landing for him.
When he opens the door, the apron is removed and his hair is combed.
"You look very pretty," he says as we step down the stairs. "I'm sorry I couldn't dress up, but it would have made my mother suspicious." He is wearing baker's garb, loose white pants and a white shirt.
His compliment is generous, but I dismiss it immediately. He is only being polite.
"Will you tell her this afternoon?" I ask, as we walk around the back of the shops and enter the square a good distance from the front window of the bakery.
His face goes dark. "If we can get a house assigned to us, I will."
There is no line at the Justice Building as we enter. It takes all of five minutes of paperwork to legally bind us together forever. However, assigning us a house takes much longer. Because Peeta will one day take over complete operation of the bakery we'll be assigned a temporary residence for now. Later, when his parents are dead, or unable to work at the bakery any longer, we'll move into their current home above the shop, while his parents will need to move into the residence we've been assigned.
We go into an office and sit in front of a desk manned by an official who pulls out a map. He sets it down in front of us. "I have three residences available," he says. "Which would best suit you?"
I'm amazed we are given a choice. But perhaps it's because Peeta is a Merchant and our house will be in Town.
I have no opinion in the matter as I have never even been inside a home in Town, except for my old school friend Madge Undersee's residence, and that is rather opulent because her father is the mayor.
Peeta studies the map carefully before making a decision. He selects a house located three blocks from the bakery.
The man opens a cupboard behind him lined with keys. He pulls out two keys and gives one to each of us. "It's been empty for nearly a year," he says. "It'll be dusty."
When we leave the Justice Building, Peeta reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through it. I am self-conscious walking through Town like this, but we're married now.
"Let's see the house before I go back to the bakery."
We are quickly there and Peeta opens the door. The official is right; it is dusty. I sneeze several times after entering.
The house is larger than my family's house in the Seam, but Peeta calls it small. Light streams in the big windows providing a sense of cheerfulness. There are three bedrooms. Peeta claims the largest one as ours. My face goes red when I think that we'll be sharing a room now.
"Not until you're ready Katniss," he says, when he notices my discomfort.
There are two other bedrooms as well, one for Prim, and another for me to use to process the animal skins.
"It's nice," I say when we have walked through the entire house and inspected the tiny yard behind it.
Peeta seems pleased that I like his choice. "We can paint the rooms different colors," he notes. "Maybe green," he smiles.
"We can bring over our furniture after…" I mean to say when my mother is dead, but something stops me. Her conversation this morning was so normal that I find it hard to believe she will soon be gone.
Most couples are gifted at their toasting with items to furnish their homes. However because the circumstances surrounding our union are so unusual, we are likely to receive little, if anything in the way of gifts. But I'm a Seam girl; I'm used to doing without.
Peeta locks the door behind us, jiggling the knob to be sure of it. He laces his fingers through mine again as we head back toward the bakery. He kisses my cheek when we get closer. I want to turn my face and let him capture my lips again, hungry for those feeling from last night, but we are standing in the street. People are walking by. "I'll see you tonight," he murmurs, before breaking free of my hand.
I hurry back to the Seam. It's still early. Prim isn't home from school yet. I check on our mother. She sleeps soundly, snores even.
After changing my clothes, I walk through our tiny home, studying its contents, trying to figure out how we will move everything to Town. Imagining how it will look in that sunny house.
Until our mother's death, I will remain here with Prim. But I'm sure Peeta will be moving into the new house soon. Once he tells his mother about our marriage, he'll have to leave. I can't imagine how difficult it will be for him to work with her each day.
I prepare the rabbit for dinner. I make a salad of greens I'd picked in the woods earlier this morning. There is bread a plenty. Peeta has been generous. He has always brought something from the bakery during his nightly visits.
Prim arrives from school and goes to see our mother.
"Sleeping," she says, when she comes out of the room. "Has she eaten anything else?" I had written Prim of our mother's appetite in the note I left behind this morning.
I shake my head.
"Did you and Peeta go to the Justice Building today?"
"Yes, and we are already assigned a house in Town." I describe the dwelling to Prim, the size of the rooms, the light that streams in through the windows, the tiny yard.
A choking sound startles both of us and we jump up from our seats at the dining table to rush to our mother's side. Prim gets there first pulling our mother into a sitting position so she can better clear her throat. The mucous rattles as she coughs over and over. Finally she is able to clear it.
"Would you like to eat?" Prim asks.
Our mother agrees and while Prim prepares her meal, I tell her about going to the Justice Building that morning. She asks about the house and I repeat what I've already told Prim.
The lines on my mother's face relax at my words. I realize then that she has been worried about what would happen to Prim and I after her death. Even though she is not happy about my marriage, at least she is thankful that Prim and I will be together.
After she finishes eating my mother closes her eyes. Her breathing changes, and she is asleep quickly. My sister and I leave her to rest, while we eat our dinner. There is a knock at the door and I expect it is Peeta.
Prim smirks as I rush up to answer it. But it is a young miner whose wife is in labor. Prim's face blanches with fear. She has never delivered a child on her own. But she gathers our mother's supplies and leaves with the man.
I put away the remains of our meal, wash the plates and cooking pan, look in on my sleeping mother, all the time waiting for Peeta. It is late. I grow anxious.
Lying on the couch, I doze off. A soft knock wakes me. I go to the door. As soon as Peeta steps in I understand why he is late. I marvel that he showed up at all.
His face is battered and bruised. He walks stiffly, and I have to wonder at how much damage is hidden by his clothing.
"What happened?" I gasp. But I know what happened even before he speaks.
"Someone told my mother that we went to the Justice Building today."
"You didn't tell her?"
"I didn't get the chance. She already knew when I got back to the bakery this afternoon."
"Who told her?"
Did someone see us there? Did a customer see us entering the house in Town? Only Prim and Haymitch knew. But then I remember that I told Sae, too. Did she pass along the word unknowingly? I look at Peeta's bruised body and guilt floods me.
"I don't know how she found out," Peeta says, angrily. "And does it matter anyway?"
He's right. What's done is done. "Come inside, my mother has some salve that will help with those bruises."
He lumbers over to the sofa and sits. I retrieve the salve from my mother's supply cupboard and wet a cloth with warm water. Peeta's skin must be clean before the salve is applied.
"Take off your shirt."
Peeta winces as he raises his arms to pull his shirt over his head. I reach for the hem of the garment to help him.
I have seen plenty of shirtless men over the years as they sought treatment from my mother, but I have never seen Peeta's bare skin. It is an oddly intimate moment, until I note the large purple bruise on the left side of his body. I gently run my fingers down his ribs. He nearly jumps off the sofa at my touch. His face conveys an expression of both pleasure and pain.
"What did she use?" This damage is more than a mere battering of the fists. I am worried that a rib may be broken or cracked.
"A rolling pin."
My jaw drops. "Where was your father?"
"Conveniently out running an errand." His tone is sarcastic and it's clear he's angry with him as well.
As I wipe his chest clean with the warm cloth and carefully rub salve on his bruises, he tells me that he has already moved his clothing into the new house.
"My mother threw all my things into the yard." Peeta chuckles. "Actually she helped me. I don't know if I could have climbed the stairs."
How can he find humor in it? I hold back a stream of profanities about Peeta's mother. Instead I tell him I will give him something for his pain.
Eventually he is settled on the couch, stretched out, his feet hanging off the end of it. I have rubbed salve on the bruises on his torso and his face, and given him a pain-reducing drink made from tree bark. He is sleepy.
Sitting on the floor next to him with his left hand holding mine, I watch his eyelids grow heavy. "Thank you Katniss," he murmurs, before drifting off.
The fingers of my free hand find his face. His pale lashes that are so long, the curve of his cheek, the line of his nose, the hollow at the base of his neck. I trace the outline of stubble on his jaw and finally work my way up to his lips. Soft and full, slightly chapped. His breath warms my fingers.
This is the not the wedding night I envisioned, although I know I am not ready for the traditional happenings of such an occasion. But a repeat of the previous evening would have been welcomed. I am eager to learn where those sensations lead.
My head rests on the edge of the sofa near to Peeta's head and I close my eyes.
Peeta's groan jolts me awake. It takes a moment to figure out where I am. I blink several times. It is later than I normally sleep.
Light floods the room. "I'm late for work," Peeta says. He releases my hand and groans yet again as he pulls his body up into a sitting position.
Why would he care about being late to the bakery after his mother's beating?
Stiff from sleeping in such a contorted position, I stretch my body. As I step back, Peeta swings his legs off the sofa and stands. The pain is evidenced in his grimace.
"Are you sure you can work today?" I wonder that he can even walk back to Town, let alone put in a day at the bakery.
"I have to Katniss."
I don't think he does. He should stay away to teach his mother a lesson. But I hold my tongue and help him pull his shirt over his head.
He goes to the door to leave. I follow him. "I'll go to the house today and scrub it clean."
He smiles. "That would be nice. But you don't have to do it all. I can do some."
Not with those bruises, I think.
He kisses me goodbye, a mere peck on my lips. "Thank you for the medicine and everything. I'm sorry about last night. I wanted to make you a cake but I didn't get a chance."
I realize he means a toasting cake, like the one the drunken victor had asked for two nights ago.
This sweet boy was battered because he married me and he's thinking about a cake?
"We have a lifetime of cakes ahead of us."
He plods off as I stand at the door watching. Once he is gone from my sight, I check on my mother, freezing in the doorway for a moment when I don't hear her raspy lungs. Watching to see if her chest is rising and falling, or if she expired during the night.
But she is still alive, her breathing soft, but steady. I think about going to the woods to check on my snares, but I don't want to leave my mother alone. I think she might take a turn for the worse.
I wonder when Prim will return. How will she sit through a day of school if she has been up all night delivering a baby?
In the kitchen I ready breakfast when the door bursts open. "It's a girl," Prim shouts. She is giddy and joyful, the kind of exuberance that tells of well-earned achievement. She rubs her eyes, blinking a few times.
"Have some tea," I call to her. She sits down at the table and describes the birthing.
"Everything went so smoothly Katniss, and I was so worried that something would go wrong."
"I'm happy for you little duck."
She pulls some coins from her pocket and lays them on the table next to her teacup. "Look what I received."
Her pleasure is evident. I smile at her. It is a good feeling to be paid for your expertise.
Prim yawns.
"Are you staying home from school then?"
She shakes her head. "I have a test." She picks up her cup and takes a sip. A sly smile appears on her face. "Was Peeta here last night?"
The memory of his battered body flashes through my mind and I wince involuntarily.
"What's wrong?"
"His mother found out and she beat him. Badly." I tell her about the salve and the pain medicine.
Prim's mouth forms into a straight line and her cheeks tinge red. My sweet sister rarely gets angry, but she looks like she's fit to burst. "Is he upstairs sleeping?"
"No. He went to the bakery to work this morning."
Her jaw drops. "Why?"
"Because that's his job," I explain, not understanding his actions either. He is far more forgiving than I.
Changing the subject, I tell her our mother remains the same. I voice my fear that her recent robustness is the last flicker of her life and that she will soon take a turn for the worse. Prim jumps up. She places her head onto our mother's chest to listen to her breathing.
I am in awe of my sister. She has seamlessly moved into our mother's role as healer. I am doubly glad now that my marriage will keep her out of the Community Home. It would truly be a loss for District 12 to lose Prim as a healer. Maybe that was behind the baker's request, to keep a healer working in the district.
"Do you think I should stay home with her today?" I ask Prim. I don't say what I really mean – Do you think this day is her last? Neither of us has spent much time at our mother's side during her illness. Prim must attend school and I have to hunt. But I have tried to work my activities around my mother, checking in every few hours to see that she is still breathing, getting her something to eat, or helping her to the toilet.
"She's seems fine right now," Prim says. "What do you need to do?"
"I was going to clean up the house in Town," I say.
"Do it," Prim says. "I'll try to sneak out of school after lunch. I don't know if I can stay awake all day anyway."
"Be careful." I don't want Prim to get in trouble. Schooling is mandatory in District 12, unless a student is seriously ill.
Prim changes her clothes and leaves. After checking on our mother one last time, I lock up the house and head for Town, patting the key in my pocket. I carry a bucket filled with rags and a jar of cleansing powder, as well as a broom.
Standing on the street in front of the house, I survey the neighborhood. It is well-tended with flowers planted in front of most of the homes. Merchants have the money for such luxuries; I scoff before remembering that I am now a Merchant's wife. I suppose I will need to plant flowers as well.
Unlocking the door, I go inside. Dirty as it is, this house is far nicer than any in the Seam. I plan to scrub the kitchen first. Peeta spent the most time in here yesterday, inspecting the tiny stove and oven. I imagine he is eager to christen it.
The oven is an awful mess. It takes me nearly an hour to wipe it clean. I am proud of my accomplishment, although dark grease stains my hands and arms. The bathroom mirror shows my face has a streak as well. It only smears more when I try to wipe it off.
I give up and finish cleaning the rest of the kitchen, and then sweep the living room floor. A loud knock on the door makes me jump. Did Peeta get a break and stop by? My heart beats a little faster as I go to the door and open it.
Standing in front of me is Mrs. Mellark. At her side is Delly, a former schoolmate who is now married to Peeta's brother Rye. Delly is pale and looks like she wishes she were anyplace else.
How did Peeta's mother find the house? I am dumbstruck to see her here.
"Well aren't you going to invite me in?" my mother-in-law says. Her tone is sharp and I clutch the broomstick tightly wanting to crack her across the head with it as I think about Peeta's bruises.
But I don't. It will not do Peeta any good if I fight with his mother. Instead, I open the door further, stepping back. She maneuvers her matronly Merchant figure through the doorframe. Delly follows her.
Mrs. Mellark immediately pushes past me and sashays through the house, complaining loudly about each room as soon as she enters it. The kitchen that I was so proud of cleaning is declared a disaster. The window in the master bedroom is too small. The bathroom shower tile is an ugly color.
Delly stands with me in the living room. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "She insisted on seeing the house."
Mrs. Mellark returns to the living room yelling at me, "This place is a dump."
Why does she even care about the house? But then I remember that she will live here one day, when Peeta takes over the bakery and we move to the apartment above it.
I take a step back and tighten my hold on the broom handle ready to use it to block her if she tries to assault me. But she has another plan of attack.
She studies me carefully. "So you're the fool who rescued Peeta and lost us all that money. You're not very big or even very pretty. He must have really been desperate to take you on, especially with your family's reputation."
Even though I have wiped my face clean of emotion, her comment about my family unconsciously causes me to raise my eyebrows.
A sly grin appears her face. "You don't know about your family's reputation, do you?" she smirks. Her tone when she uses the word `family' is smug.
I expect her to say something insulting about my mother being a Merchant and my father being from the Seam. But her words are beyond vile.
"Your mother had to seek out lovers to conceive you and your sister. Her husband was infertile."
She cackles like a witch from a story my mother used to tell Prim and me on stormy autumn nights when we were little. Then without waiting for a reaction she leaves with Delly, slamming the door so hard that the windows rattle.
I sink to the floor astounded. A woman so evil that she would sell her son's seed, that she would savagely beat him upon hearing of his marriage, surely such a person would be incapable of imparting truth. She has lashed out at me in the most hurtful way. Unlike Peeta, if she battered my body, I would strike her back. Instead she chose to bludgeon my heart by striking at my greatest weakness, my love for my family.
My anger at my mother-in-law is worked out through my cleaning. My muscles ache when I leave the house.
I stumble back to the Seam lugging the broom and bucket filled with dirty rags. I ponder Mrs. Mellark's words, wondering why she is so hateful toward my mother that she would make up such a terrible lie.
The baker said he had known my mother long ago. Could Mrs. Mellark's anger stem from a long-ago rivalry with my mother? It sounds far-fetched, but that is the only thing I think it could be. Because of course Prim and I are my father's daughters.
It makes me sick to think that I am now related to that evil woman. But I remind myself why I consented to the marriage, that I have kept my sister safe, and even saved Peeta as well.
With this thought in mind I enter the house to find my sister sitting at the table thumbing through one of my mother's healing books. "Katniss," Prim says, excitedly, lifting her head to grin at me. "You'll never guess. The garlic tea I made for mother…it's working. She's so much better. She just finished eating dinner. I think she's going to be fine after all."
I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. I married to save my sister from the Community Home, and she has figured out a way to save herself.