Mariel Daniels lowered her head into her hands with a weary thump. The strange gift she had found would feed them for a day or so but no more. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to never have to worry about having enough money to by one small loaf of bread, to never have to pay another gambling debt or excessive bar tab. But that would never happen. She should be grateful just to make enough for the rent.
Again she pulled out the worn blue account book and a stub of pencil she had found in a gutter near the school. Bending her head low over the numbers she added and subtracted and balanced until the juggled sums bent to her will. Market day tomorrow she thought, we might be able to sell enough to hold us till next week. Glancing at the recumbent form of her father she knelt by the corner of the old stove and pulled a small bag from under a loose cobble. Mariel added the mysterious coins to the pitiful sum before replacing it and smoothing the dirt back over the weathered stone.
Hearing a low whimper from the pile of bodies on the ragtag bed, Mariel rushed over and looked into the sleepy little face of her sister.
"I'm hungry, Mary." came the plaintive cry from the gaunt little face.
"Hush Gracie, it's alright." Mariel fumbled for a moment before pulling the slice of bread that was meant for her dinner out from her pocket. "Here you go love."
"Why was da yelling tonight?"
Why does he always yell? Mariel thought wryly, before answering. "He had a bad day at work and drank a little too much because of it. Now are you ready to sleep? You'll want to be awake for market tomorrow."
"Yes Mary." She watched as the soft eyes fluttered shut. Listening to the growling of her own stomach for a moment Mariel bit her lip then walked over to the box where she kept her spinning. After selecting a hank of rough wool she pulled out the drop spindle and gently let her hands caress it.
It had been her mother's spindle and her mother's mother before that. It was elegant and the only item of value in the house which had never been considered to be sold to pay off debts. The whorl was glossy and polished from the rubbing of years of wool. The wood was a deep chestnut color that gleamed gently and richly. Mariel loved that spindle, she remembered her mother every time she used it.
Ma had been the only gentling influence on da. Everything was so much better when she was alive. Da even worked more often than not, or at least half the time. But those days were over. Winding the raw wool to the starter Mariel gave the spindle a viscous twist and let the thread drop through her fingers. As it spiraled down she fed out all of her anger into the thread, letting her bitterness flow out of her and into the thread, slowly calming her until she felt she could face the day without screaming or crying. Winding up two feet of thread she let it go out again and again, draining and restoring, draining and restoring, draining and re...
"Rough day, eh?" Mariel jumped, just maintaining her grip on the unspun wool.
"Tom, you bloody little devil, don't sneak up on me like that!"
"I'm willing to wager an army could have snuck up on you, you were so absorbed." Mariel couldn't help but to smile at the mischievous grin on her little brother's face. At so many times he resembled a six year old rather than a full grown lad of sixteen.
"Well then no dinner for you."
"Not even if I pay for it?" He pressed a few small coins into her hand. "Sorry there's not more, no one wanted to hire a ruffian like me today."
"No, every bit helps." Pushing back a straying hair she quickly arranged a plate for him. "Eat."
Gratefully he began wolfing it down before pausing and looking at her more carefully. "You didn't eat today," he accused.
"Grace was hungry... No I couldn't," she said trying to refuse the half he offered her.
"If you don't eat this Mariel Daniels I shall be very upset."
"Oh all right, and thank you."
Catching her gaze Tom fixed her with his most concerned brotherly stare. "Don't go starving yourself, we need you too much."
Understanding his meaning Mariel allowed herself to slump forward on the table. "Ye gods Tom, it was bad tonight. He was drunker than usual. And the paycheck- he practically refused it of me. He has to work tomorrow if we are to receive it but he is being so foul and saying such horrible things that I don't think..."
"Horrible things? What did he say?" Mariel cursed Tom's keen perception at picking up things she hadn't meant to say.
"It was nothing, really."
"Mary, that won't work on me." After several minutes of cajoling, threatening, and wheedling she reluctantly poured out the whole story, every hateful word. "The bastard!" Tom swore, "Threatening you with the streets. If he ever does that again."
"Tom..." She began placatingly.
"After everything else he has done that is the last straw. I will not see him try to turn you into a whore!"
"We will get out someday, but for now think of the little ones. They can't be left with him. I'm keeping our savings hidden, someday we will have enough but not yet. Please don't anger him enough to make it worse..."
"Alright, but if he even suggests such a thing again..."
"I know Tom. I know."
Mariel sat and watched as the last embers of the fire died in the belly of the tin stove, twisting the thread, her only source of income, not even daring to think of others.