- - - - - -
It was cloudy out that afternoon as Cremia sat alone at the Laundry Pool. She sat on the bridge, her shoes hovering just above the slightly chilly water. Romani had been left in the care of Anju's parents, who seemed happy to look after the talkative and happy child.
Cremia pointed her toe so that the slightest ripple flowed through the water. It was so pretty, the clear blue water, even when the clouds rolled in and it no longer reflected the beautiful yellow sunshine.
And she heard a noise and looked up. She did not wish to greet this visitor, and put her attention back on the little ripples in the water.
"Cremia?" Kafei asked, coming over to her. There was a bit of relief in his voice, but this metamorphosed into confusion when he was ignored. "I was looking for you."
Cremia stared deeply into the water, witnessing a pure mirror. There she was, looking forlorn. If anyone else had been observing the ranch girl, they would surely call her beautiful, but assure that she would look much nicer had she been happy. But Cremia was not quite sure what she was seeing.
A small gust of wind, a cold breeze left over from the winter months, danced around and disturbed the water, contorting the surface with little waves that were no mirror at all. Only then Cremia glanced up, but only a smidge.
"What are you doing, reading the water?" Kafei joked.
She snapped her head up and glared at them. "What are you doing here?"
"At last you notice me!" he whistled, taking a few steps over the bridge. "I thought that I'd been turned invisible or something!"
She did not find his jokes funny. This guy—what a jerk! He steals Anju from me, he steals my heart! Nothing but a dirty rotten thief!
"Cremia?"
"Go away!" she shrieked.
"I will not," he told her firmly, crossing his arms and knitting his eyebrows together. "I've got as much right to be here as you or anybody."
"Humph!" Cremia plucked her feet from the pool's surface, turned, and hastily got to a stand. "If you will not go, then I will!" And then, as she started to leave, he grabbed onto her arm.
"Cremia, what's the matter? Why are you so—?"
Smack!
She took her hand down. Shaking angrily, she cried, "Let me go! You're nothing but a heartless jerk! Don't try to be concerned for me! All you and Anju care about is each other!" And tears started to cascade from her sapphire eyes, but she didn't bother to hide them until she said what she really wanted to. "I hate you, Kafei Dotour! I hope I never, ever see your rotten face again!" The girl wrenched her arm free from his grasp and started to run again.
This time, he caught both arms and shut her up with his own lips.
Gasping, she slapped him again even harder and, at last, fled.
- - -
"Why are you crying, sister?" asked Romani as they loaded their supplies back into the wagon.
"Nothing," growled Cremia, securing the rope with an especially tight and angry knot.
"Did Romani do something wrong, sister?"
"No, no she didn't," Cremia said with the most assurance she could muster in her state. "Climb in now."
They sat in the front of the wagon. Cremia ushered the donkey on, swearing inside her head over and over. That heartless jerk! That's what he is! How dare he take my first kiss? How dare he! I hope he—I hope he dies!
And she regretted thinking this, somehow, maybe in the back of her mind, but she was so upset that it did not matter. Kafei was awful! Why was he always so nice to Cremia? Why, oh why did he kiss her?
My only friend in the world is now lost to that two-timing… She scowled. I won't think about it anymore. Today didn't happen. Anju is still my best friend, and Kafei and her belong…belong…belong together… And Kafei didn't kiss me; it was just a dream. A stupid, stupid dream! And the only things I'll ever worry about again are the ranch and Romani.
Cremia reached around and groped for her shawl. At last she found it and wrapped it around her chilly shoulders. She felt cold all of a sudden, like a chill had shot through every part of her body and soul. She was not so mad anymore; she couldn't allow it. Cremia would be happy… Forever and ever.
The ranch girl changed subjects. "Did you have a good supper, Romani?"
"Yep yep! Yummy yummy!"
Cremia herself had not eaten since lunch, but was not famished in the least. Anger, confusion, and every other emotion that pulsed in the girl's veins did not mix well with sustenance, and she might have lost her meal soon after trying to down it.
Darkness was flooding the sky slowly as they reached home. Cremia and Romani put their new supplies away and packed up the wagon quickly.
"It's going to rain," predicted Cremia, sniffing the air.
"How?" wondered Romani.
"It smells like it of course," replied her sister. "And it is good that it will rain. The ground will be soft so we can plant the garden."
"Flowers too? Romani wants flowers!"
"Flowers too," agreed Cremia. "Big yellow ones!"
"And white? And pink? Romani loves pink!" exclaimed the child, tugging at the other girl's sleeve. She broke the hold and began to skip around in circles. She made a face when a big, fat raindrop landed on her nose. "You were right, sister… It's raining!"
And together they ran to the house, flung the door open, and hopped inside before the sheets of water touched them. There was a rumble of thunder outside and the sky opened up, millions of little droplets of liquid pelting the roof and everything else within their reach.
"S-Sister, I'm s-scared," stuttered Romani, covering her ears. "It's loud!"
"Indeed it is," agreed Cremia with a warm smile. "But we're safe. Don't worry." She ruffled her sister's red hair affectionately. An idea occurred to her. "Hey, let's do something fun!"
The girl was intrigued, taking her hands slowly down from her head. "What?"
"Well," began Cremia, walking towards the stove slowly. "When I was little and I got scared of storms, Mama would always do something special with me."
"Mama?"
"Yes, Mama. Our mama."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Now, what she would do was have me help her make a big, giant pie. And when it was baking, she'd read me stories or tell me about when she was little."
"I wanna pie and a story!"
"Well, then we'll have one," Cremia told her.
And they took out all the ingredients, placing them on the big table, and washed their hands in freshly pumped water. Cremia, since she was much taller, retrieved bowls and utensils from the high shelves. Romani fetched the aprons. They were just about set.
Cremia easily tied her own apron around herself, and then went to help her sister. "Are you sure about this, Romani? It's as big as you are!"
"Romani is sure!" insisted the girl, walking around a little as half of the huge white apron dragged on the floor. "Romani is all grown up!"
"You just be careful with that. It was Mama's." Cremia looked down at the pale yellow apron she was wearing, and remembered when her mother sewed it. "Cremia, when you are a grown woman and in charge of your very own house, you will wear this." Cremia fingered the fabric as her mother's words filled her head. The apron was still a bit loose, but she had tied it extra tightly. It fits perfectly, she insisted to herself.
"Romani wants to start!" chattered the child, using a chair to climb up on the table. "Romani wants to stir!"
"All right, all right," agreed Cremia, measuring out the flour into the largest wooden bowl.
Romani took up the nearest spoon and attempted to beat it.
"You can't mix yet, Romani. It's just flour. You need the water and oil first."
Romani, who, in the meanwhile, had succeeded in sending bits of flour all over the table and herself, made a face. "Add them, sister!" she commanded.
"A little patience, please." She snatched the bowl and spoon to herself.
"Sorry." Romani blushed, playing with the oversized garment.
"It's fine." Cremia added the water and the oil, and presented the bowl to her sister. "Be careful not to spill anything."
Romani grinned, showing all her teeth (well, she was missing a few, but all the ones she had). She stuck the wood spoon in the middle and began furiously turning it round and round in the bowl.
"Romani, you're spilling!"
Romani slowed down marginally, but kept beating at it for a long while.
"That's enough," announced Cremia, seizing the bowl from the girl's unwilling fingers.
Romani looked like she would cry, but got over it as soon as Cremia was rolling the dough into a ball. This was apparently more entertaining than throwing a tantrum.
"Is it going to be a big pie, sister?"
"Yes, a huuuuugggee pie! We can share some with everyone!" She dusted the table with flour and began to roll out the ball of dough, pushing hard on it.
"Hey, sister… Tell me about Mama."
"Mama…" Cremia's thoughts drifted to her late mother. "Well, she was very, very beautiful. She had hair like yours and mine, but it seemed to have orange streaks in it when the sunlight hit it. Her eyes were like that too. They were this green color, but, when she was in the sun, they were all different colors, like some sort of flower… Papa always liked to take Mama and me out on sunny days so that we could look at her hair and her eyes. Mama said we were silly."
Romani was gazing at her, trying to grasp at the image of their mother that Cremia could so clearly see.
Cremia fetched the pie pan and pressed the crust into it, trimming off all the excess with a knife. "Mama was always real gentle," she continued. "Her voice was soft and sweet, and she never yelled. And she loved the cows a lot. She told me that, when she was little, she always wanted to have cows. And she met Papa and he bought this ranch and named it after her."
"Romani, right?" the girl prompted.
"Yes."
"Mama is Romani, the ranch is Romani, and Romani is Romani!" She giggled. "Romani-Romani-Romani!" she sang jubilantly.
Cremia reached for the jar of fruit and twisted off the lid with a lot of effort. She then poured in a generous amount of the mixed berries that she had collected. They were the three kinds of berries that grew in wintertime, and were scarce. But this was a special occasion, for the rain was still thundering down.
"I love Mama," Romani said suddenly.
Cremia looked at her for a long moment. Romani had never known her mother. They had only shared an hour of life. Romani was born and her mother died so soon after… It had been a day much like it was, with the dark clouds and the fierce rain…
No, she wouldn't think about it now. That was a long time ago.
- - -
The storm was still ravaging the skies and the land after Romani was tucked in bed and Cremia was in her nightdress, sitting by the bedroom window. Every few moments, lightning flared and sent eerie white light between the curtains to fill the room. A rumble of thunder would follow from some distant place a while afterward, and that would be the only light and sound until another blast of lightning came.
Cremia found one of her calloused fingers touching her lips. She had pushed it out of her head for hours, but now she could no longer escape from the memory of her kiss.
It had been quick, hasty, unexpected, and completely immoral—but it had been sweet. The feel of Kafei's pursed lips pressing so hard on her mouth… It had not been completely without pleasure.
Kafei had been looking especially good. He was approaching fourteen now. He was taller and his body was filling out with muscle. He was not the scrawny child he had been. He was almost a man.
Cremia, I thought you'd decided to give up on this! one part of her mind screamed.
Yes…but I didn't know that he would kiss me… another part of her countered.
A brilliant beam of light again bathed the room in its startling radiance, ripping the girl back to her senses.
You're an idiot, Cremia. Kafei is just a two-timer. He's probably kissed Anju a dozen times already! You can't think about him like you are… If you did love him, then it would hurt Anju.
She gasped.
Love? I thought…love? No! No! I don't love Kafei! I can't! I'm…too young…! And how could I even think of loving him? I just told him that I hated him! And I do! I hate him…! I…hate…hate… Kafei… Today never happened. Kafei… I didn't tell you I hated you. And you didn't…couldn't have—You never kissed me!
Cremia stood and pulled the curtains shut abruptly. She found her way to her bed and crawled under to experience the warmth of the quilts. Her ears were met with the sweet sighs of her sister from the little girl's dreams.
Cremia went to sleep after a while. It was not too long because she had exhausted herself by being so upset. "Goodnight, Romani," she whispered. "Good night, Mama. Good night, Papa…"
- - -
It was a beautiful sunshiny day. The whole family—mother, father, older daughter, younger daughter—went out to the swamp to crowd into a boat for a ride.
"Ahh! Mama! Mama!" cried Romani, wrestling around in her mother's lap while pointing at the sky. "I-It's a monster!"
"It's just a bird, my little Romani," soothed the woman in her honey-coated voice. She hugged her youngest child tightly, whispering, "There's nothing to fear."
"I'm still s-scared," Romani stuttered, burying her face in her mother's golden dress.
"Don't be silly," scolded Cremia, thinking her sibling very silly. She was seated on the floor of the boat, while her parents took either bench.
"Oh, she's only a little girl," the elder Romani said, her voice even sweeter than before. She opened her mouth again, this time to sing. It was a pretty song, but no one else could understand it. The woman raised her head and sang to the whole swamp, her voice high and dainty, soothing everyone that was near.
Cremia let her eyes almost close, leaning back. She felt the cool breeze on her face, and the strange scents of foreign plants tickling her nose. But she sniffed and could also smell the rosy perfume her mother always wore and the earthy scent of her father.
Romani leaned back from her mother's chest, looking up at her with wide sapphire jewels. Her two high pigtails wagged in the breeze, making her small, round, sweet face even cuter.
The girls' father was grinning, also hypnotized by his wife's song. He leaned on one knee, gazing at her wistfully.
The woman finished her song and looked to see everyone's eyes upon her. She blushed and looked down a little when she saw the expression on her husband's face.
"Mama, what were you singing?" asked Romani.
"It's a song of the Gorons, baby," she replied.
"You know Goron?"
"Yes, a little. My family used to live up in the mountains, and we often traded with the Gorons. Once, there was an awful winter and our house was just not warm enough. So my mother and father and my brothers stayed in a Goron cave. And one of the women there taught me this song."
"Is there a Terminan version?" asked Cremia, desperately seeking knowledge of the meaning of such a lovely tune.
"Yes…"
"Sing, sing!" chanted Romani. "Mama sings so pretty!"
"Yes, please do, love," the man encouraged.
"Oh, all right," giggled his wife. She adjusted the long braid of her long red locks, and began:
"O, My Love!
It was cold, and always cold
And I, always alone
But Hark! Lo and behold!
Spring a'washes the land
A'washes caves with light
The flowers a'bloom
And soon, soon
It will be spring once more!
Journey back, my love
Come back, for me
For it is spring
And I await!"
- - -
Cremia awoke then from her dream with a loud rumble of thunder as tears rained down her face.
- - - - - -