Chapter 7: A Time to Tear

When they arrived back at the farmhouse, the sky was black and speckled with stars. Elphaba had leaned back in the cart and was studying the way they grouped themselves into constellations. Adrian's words echoed in her ears as she searched for the familiar patterns she'd seen move across the sky as a child growing up in Rush Margins. Not one of the constellations she expected to find was visible. She continued to lie there as Wilbur began to unhitch the horses. He stopped for a moment and approached her.

"That's the Big Dipper right there," Wilbur pointed out, "and if you follow the tip of the dipper, just below it is the North Star."

Elphaba was silent for a moment.

"I've never seen them before," she said softly, hoisting herself down from the cart, "They are beautiful, but I've never seen them before," she said the last part more to herself, as she wandered into the house.

Wilbur furrowed his brow and shook his head as she disappeared inside.

Bala was waiting for her when she entered the house, which was warmly lit by bright, flickering lamps.

I was alone and afraid, the words formed in Elphaba's mind as she picked up the tiny kitten and looked into her wide, shimmering eyes.

"I wouldn't leave you," Elphaba's voice was soft, soothing even, "I'm your…" she stopped short of the word 'mother'. Just thinking the word wrenched her stomach into a knot, as she was forced to remember how incapable she been as a parent.

"I'll take care of you," she finished instead.

Bala looked contented, and purred a little as Elphaba stroked her tiny head.

Mae smiled, shaking her head as Elphaba talked to the kitten. She didn't understand it, but it seemed to make her houseguest happy. She finished setting the table and set out the food she had prepared.

"I hope you like roast chicken," Mae offered with a soft smile.

Elphaba hesitated for a moment, torn, "I don't eat meat," she finally answered tightly.

"Truly?" Mae looked bewildered, "Why ever not?"

"There is no way of knowing if meat comes from an animal, or an Animal. And I cannot take that chance," Elphaba answered, more harshly than she intended.

"Is there a difference?" Mae looked confused.

Elphaba sighed, suddenly feeling very weary. She knew there were not enough words in this world to explain the difference. She rubbed her temples, feeling the strain of the day.

Mae smiled, coming over and steering Elphaba toward the table gently, "I suppose it doesn't matter. It's late and you need some food. There are plenty of vegetables and other things as well."

Wilbur entered then, and they sat down together. Elphaba sat quietly, respectfully, as they said their prayers, and then realized how hungry she was as the scent of good food surrounded her. She helped herself to potatoes, fresh greens, soft, freshly-baked bread, and carrots Mae had cooked with sugar. They were sweet, sticky, and altogether wonderful. After several moments of silence, Mae's soft voice broke the tension.

"Did you find what you were looking for today?" she tried to look into Elphaba's eyes.

Elphaba considered for a moment, "Perhaps. But I fear I may have simply uncovered more questions as well."

"Well," Mae reached forward and placed her hand over Elphaba's, "you're more than welcome to make this your home, at least for now," she paused, studying the face before her, "It's nice, to have someone else around the house…"

Mae's expression was kind, loving, and a little sad. Elphaba swallowed, grateful, yet terminally awkward when it came to responding to such open affection. She smiled a little, and allowed Mae to hold onto her hand for a moment longer.

"Thank you," she finally whispered.

When they had resumed eating, Elphaba suddenly asked, "What is your last name? Your family name?"

The couple looked surprised, but not offended.

"Proctor," Wilbur answered.

"I was simply curious…" Elphaba tried to explain.

"There's no need to explain," Mae encouraged, "You can ask anything you wish. We live a solitary life, but we're fairly friendly," she chuckled a little.

Elphaba felt slightly disarmed, allowing this normal meal in such a normal place to comfort her. After a moment, she took a deep breath and asked a question that had been nagging at her.

"Who is Anna Margaret?"

There was a moment of silence, as Mae slowly chewed her food and considered the question. Wilbur studied his plate.

Finally, Mae answered, "Anna Margaret was our daughter. The one I told you about."

Elphaba flashed back to the photo in the stairwell.

"She died about three years ago," Mae continued, looking past Elphaba with cloudy eyes, "Her horse reared and threw her into the river. She could have easily swam, even walked out, but she hit her head on a stone and…" she swallowed hard.

"I understand," Elphaba cut her off, not wanting to be the reason for Mae's recounting such a loss. She knew what it meant to be haunted by loss and regret.

"She's in the Lord's hands now," Mae spoke softly, "and what's been done cannot be undone. Right now, we have you to tend to."

Elphaba was slightly dumbfounded at the unusual faith and unquestioning acceptance in Mae's words. She returned to her food, lost in thought as they finished dinner.

She helped Mae clear the table this time, feeling compelled to be a contributing member of the household. She had never been particularly domestic, but her time in the city with Fiyero had honed her skills in the kitchen. When the dishes were clean and the scraps discarded, Elphaba headed up the stairs, with Bala tucked in her arm.

She turned suddenly, stopping to address the older couple.

"I do appreciate the hospitality, truly," it was the best Elphaba could offer, yet she meant it. Then she clambered up to her room.

Later, when she shuffled down the hall to search for a blanket, she caught snatches of the conversation below.

"They were awful, Mae, truly awful. One of 'em even suggested they burn her."

"Had to have been old Myra. Only she would suggest something that was outlawed three hundred years ago."

"I agree, Myra's slap crazy. But they tried to attack her, and then…they recognized her."

"As Anna Margaret?"

"Yes."

There was a silence.

"It's uncanny…"

"I know, Mae, but she's not her. That's just not possible. And you can't see it, but she's truly green."

There was a silence, where Mae must have nodded.

"She was crying when I found her, really sobbing."

"She seems to be such a sad soul. Those eyes just break your heart."

"She's not ours Mae. She's not even a child, not hardly."

"I know, I know. But it doesn't matter, because she's a person, and she has no one else."

"I only want you to remember who she really is…and isn't. I never said you couldn't love her."

Elphaba sucked in a sharp breath at the word 'love'. She fled back down the hallway to her room and crawled under the quilts, where Bala joined her. She didn't want to be loved, or clung to, or held in any sort of esteem.

Or did she?

For all her passion and her attempts to right her wrongs, had she succeeded in anything truly good? For all of her useless activity, her constant spinning her heels in the miry refuse of politics and family grudges, had she truly changed anyone or anything? The only thing that stood out in her life as having been for good was Fiyero, and Malky and her comrades in the cell so many years before. It was not their work that had made a difference. It was who they were, how they changed each other. Their work as revolutionaries had accomplished little, yet Elphaba knew she would never forget the way Nyalana had changed her heart. She would never forget how Malky made her almost believe in her soul. She would never forget Fiyero.

"Perhaps, all my life, I have been striving for the wrong things," Elphaba mused, directing her words toward the sleeping kitten.

Bala slept on, and Elphaba drifted into slumber, deep thoughts swirling through her head.

The following morning, as Mae was introducing Elphaba to the wonder of homemade biscuits and jam, a loud ruckus and a pounding on the door startled them.

Wilbur opened the door, and Mae quickly joined him when she saw the number of people outside.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wilbur's voice was suddenly gruff and commanding.

"We know she's in there! We know you's harborin' a witch in your house!" a shrill voice rang out, followed by grumblings of agreement or disagreement.

"Now that's enough, Myra," a new voice broke in, "No need callin' anyone a witch before we have a chance to talk."

"Lenny," Wilbur began, "I know you're the sheriff around here, and you and your law have to keep up with what's goin' on, but was it really necessary to bring the whole town into my front yard over a houseguest?"

The other voice, which must have been the sheriff, spoke up, "Wilbur, the townspeople just want to know what sort of person you're lettin' into your house, and what her intentions are."

Elphaba sat, riveted to her chair, anger seething through her gritted teeth.

"She's a woman, Sheriff," Mae's words were laced with anger, "not an outlaw or a monster!"

"Well perhaps she should come out here herself and make her intentions clear, so we can all rest a little easier," Lenny's voice had a cautious edge to it.

At that, Elphaba stood up and strode out the door, to where Mae and Wilbur stood on the stoop. In front of her stood a motley collection of people, dressed in simple frocks and trousers, and the occasional wide-brimmed hat. She scanned the crowd, noting that amongst them were several dark-skinned faces, eerily reminiscent of the Vinkun tribes. They carried baskets and bundles, and none of them spoke.

Elphaba brushed past Mae and Wilbur and moved into the crowd, noticing how they backed away from her, gasping a little as she cleared a path to the center of the crowd. She stopped and looked around before speaking.

"I am Elphaba, and I am not a witch," her voice was strong, and she realized that in this place, what she'd said was not a lie.

"What's wrong with your skin?" a scruffy man barked, spitting in the dirt as he spoke.

"I was born this way, the same as you," Elphaba spat back.

"If you ain't no witch, then what's your business here?" the woman she'd begun to recognize as Myra Spinnaker shrieked.

Elphaba's eyes dropped and her tone softened, "I don't know…I found myself here quite by…accident."

Myra snorted her disapproval, and someone else called out, "Aw, come on Myra, she was probably abandoned by a circus or somethin'. She don't look dangerous!"

Elphaba cringed at the word 'circus', but she kept silent. As people grumbled, a small boy made his way through the crowd. He was at Elphaba's feet before she realized he was approaching her. He set down his bundles and tugged at her dress. She turned and looked down into his wide, dark eyes. He motioned for her to kneel, and she cautiously obeyed.

Face to face, she studied his deep, ochre skin, his short, coarse hair, and his dark eyes that looked almost black. His clothes were dirty, and in need of repair, and he was barefoot. Still, a smile spread over his face, and reached up and placed his tiny hands on Elphaba's cheeks. She twitched a little, at his touch. The boy touched her nose, her hair, her forehead, and then her cheeks again.

He let out a little chuckle and exclaimed, "Green!" he reached down and took one of her hands. He wrapped his dark fingers around one of hers and pronounced again, "Green."

A tiny ripple of laughter fluttered through the crowd, and another man made his way over. Elphaba looked up, and recognized him as the same man who'd found her in the barn two days prior. She stood up abruptly, with a twinge of fear, but he offered his hand.

"Name's Luke, and these are my house servants," he gestured toward the little boy and the dark-skinned woman following him, "That's Letty, and her son Josiah."

Elphaba hesitantly shook his hand, and then Luke called towards Mae and Wilbur, "I suppose if you're wantin' to keep a colored woman in your house, it ain't botherin' me none. As long as she follows the rules, I don't s'pose it matters exactly which color she is."

With that, he turned to leave, with the little boy and his mother following behind. The others in the crowd took his gesture as a means of acceptance, if tentative, and slowly began to file away.

"I suppose we're done here," the sheriff addressed Wilbur again, with a tip of his hat. He leaned in before walking away and added, "I'm sure you've noticed, but she's a spittin' image of—"

"I know," Wilbur cut him off, ending the discussion.

Lenny tipped his hat once again, and sauntered toward the road. When all the others had mounted horses, or wagons, or trudged away on foot, one figure remained. Myra Spinnaker stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes locked on Elphaba. She was an older woman, that much Elphaba could tell, but perhaps not as old as her scowl implied. Her hair tended to pull itself loose from her tight bun and flew in a gray and brown cloud around her pinched face. Her dress was bland and well-worn, and whipped around strong legs that looked as though she had endured a life of hard work. She approached Elphaba, and easily matched her in height.

"You listen here," Myra hissed, "those others might be too cowardly to have a witch-burnin', but I ain't no fool. There's something wrong about you, something wicked! So you stay away from me! Or I'll see that you disappear, ya hear me?"

Elphaba's body tensed, anger rushing through her as she clenched her hands into fists. She tried to bite her lip, truly not wanting to risk having a place to live. However, before she could stop herself, she pulled her hand back and slapped Myra Spinnaker square across the face.

The older woman looked shocked, and then enraged. She shoved Elphaba to the ground with surprising strength and then stomped over to the door stoop where Mae and Wilbur still stood.

"You better control her!" she shrieked, "Or I'll see that she hangs like any disobedient, colored woman should!" with that, Myra stormed off, mounting a cinnamon-colored horse and galloping away with surprising skill.

Elphaba sat there for a moment, fuming and fighting back tears of anger and frustration. It was amazing, how easily tears came in this new place.

Mae scurried over and helped her up, dusting off her dress and arms. Elphaba turned and fled into the house, feeling ashamed and incredibly angry that both Mae and Wilbur had seen her interaction with Myra. Mae followed, and caught Elphaba before she could flee up the stairs. She seized Elphaba by the hand and pulled her into a sudden embrace.

Elphaba stiffened, yet Myra held tightly to her and said, "You don't deserve that. No one deserves that. She's just a crazy, bitter old woman."

Elphaba started to pull away, but Mae's arms were strong and comforting. For a moment, she wondered if this is what it would have been like, to have a mother who loved her unconditionally. She relaxed for a moment, and wrapped her arms around Mae's shoulders. As quickly as she let it happen, Elphaba pulled away and threw herself down in one of the kitchen chairs. There was a tense moment of silence before she spoke.

"You have no idea," she tried to explain, "how close I am…I was…to being a crazy, bitter old woman myself…"

Mae pulled another chair up in front of Elphaba and tipped her face to meet her eyes. "I don't care who you were, no one deserves to be treated like that. Not you, or any other colored individual."

Elphaba furrowed her brow, "I don't understand. What other colors are there? Are we all not colored?"

Mae sighed heavily and brushed a strand of hair from Elphaba's face. Her mothering instincts were strong, and soothing, "Maybe where you come from, things are different, but I'm afraid there are a lot of wrongs we've yet to right in this world. Miss Letty, and her little son Josiah," Mae continued, "they're colored folks. Our government freed them from slavery, only to isolate them from the rest of society with a thick veil of prejudice."

Elphaba swallowed hard, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. So, without Animals to persecute, this world had settled for the color of skin as a reason for stripping people of the basic dignity of humanity.

"I suppose," she began softly, "that I've been labeled 'colored' as well?"

Mae took her hand, "To me, you're just another shade of gray."

Elphaba smiled a little, truly appreciating Mae's outlook on things.

"Tigelaar!" Wilbur exclaimed suddenly, startling both women, "That's where I've heard it before! There was a colored man in White Springs some years back with that name. Always did seem odd. Maybe you've got some kin here after all…"

Wilbur gave Elphaba a crooked smile, innocently hoping to lighten her mood. The massive implications of his words were altogether lost on both Mae and himself, as their houseguest paled before them and nearly fainted.