Chapter 19
The ground was muddy with the type of mud that liked to stick to shoes or boots and made sucking sounds when feet were lifted, but it was only a thin layer of mud most places, only the deep type that threatened to remove your feet coverings, or did, were in the animal paddocks.
The rain had started in the dark of night and had just abated. The cold rays of the morning sun climbed up from the below the grey plains and edged roofs and colored lifeless cropped fields in a spray of gold. Soon the sun was warming, getting to work in drying the mud back to dirt.
It was to this scene that several people arrived to on the second day of the festival. Some thoughtful people wheeled out old hay, too musty to be given to animals, and spread it over areas too muddy to tread upon at entrances to the old barn and around other frequented areas.
John's feet were slightly sore from all the shuffling of the previous day's swordfights, but the rest of his body was even more so. He was walking with Sarah, Sarah's mother had left them, taking the children with her with promises of fairy floss later if they were good.
John and Sarah walked passed booths, stopping from time to time to look at the wares and trinkets being sold, or for Sarah to catch up with an acquaintance.
He stepped on a small stone that jabbed his sore foot, but he continued walking with a minimal limp. He was sore, but probably not as sore as he would have been had not Sarah applied the salve to his wounds the night before. John flicked his deep, red eyes over to Sarah as they stopped and she spoke to the vendor of the precious stones stand, commenting on how smooth some of the rocks were and so on. Her cheeks were slightly reddened, no doubt the work of the sun just as John had woken up with flaking skin from his sunburns.
The night before in John's room the diffident couple, for a couple is what they had to be after the confessions, had just sat there with Sarah kneeling on the floor, her soft arms around his waist, resting her head against his bruised abdomen and he sat on the edge of his bed, both of them a mess of green mash.
John had looked down at the top of her head, seeing only the wavy black mass of her hair as she hid her face from him. Her tentative confession of love warmed him from the pit of his stomach, as strange as that would seem, but then again her words had traveled from against the stomach her head was pressed against. He had reached down with his left hand, touching the slightly rough, but soft and springy hair of Sarah's head and slid his hand to her shoulder. He brought his other hand to her arm and had pulled her up and sat her next to him on the bed, enclosing her in his arms, again pressing her to him, Sarah's arms were trapped between their bodies, but she didn't mind. Into the delicate shell of her ear he had whispered, "I think I love you too."
Returning back to the present, John moved to the next booth with Sarah, the day brightening, although the fall colors were not so vibrant here, only the browns and greys of dirt and faded wood. The tall, pale man went back to his thoughts, remembering the night before and how they had parted, commenting on the mess and how Sarah had blushed as she wished him goodnight with a peck to his cheek. John still felt the warmth of her soft lips on his face as if the memory of the kiss would remain locked in his tactile memories forever.
Sarah looked up at John indirectly, though they had voiced their feelings in his room, she was unsure as to what to do now. Were they officially a couple then? Would it be okay for them to be seen together, just the two of them? The doctor-in-training was not very experienced, but knew enough that every relationship would be different, some took it fast (like Kancia) and others took it slow. Sarah believed that no matter who she would be with it would go nice and slow.
The young woman kept glancing over at John, or his hand, hoping almost embarrassedly, while she discreetly wiped her hand against her skirt, that he would take her hand in his. She briefly considered slipping her hand into his large, open one, but knew she didn't have the courage to, she would die of embarrassment, but if he took her hand, she would still flush red in her cheeks and look around, but it would be all right somehow. She would consent to it.
An hour passed, the couple were at the barn where the food had been and now all sorts of wooden crafts were displayed, waiting to be judged and to be admired. Sarah was fidgety, still nervous and longing for John's warm hand. Was it just her, or did there seem to be more couples holding hands than usual? People passed by, scanning the woodworks, others stood around, carefully studying delicate carvings.
John had started to notice Sarah's fidgeting and how she would subtly brush her hand against her skirt. He wondered why she was behaving as she was and decided he should try to reassure her, hopefully calm her restlessness. John reached out his left hand to catch Sarah's right as it was again brushing against her thigh and caught it mid-swipe. She jumped in surprise, not noticing the anticipated moment in her nervousness waiting for it.
'His hand is so warm and big,' Sarah thought as she gazed down at their hands, his grasping her, enfolding it in a calloused palm. She looked up at him, but he was studying a model flying ship a talented child had carved, but she saw that he had a faint smile on his lips.
John and Sarah met up with Aunt Rena, Berin, Lindsey, and Brittany and went to see the animal events. They witnessed a man imitate the goose call so well that a couple geese honked back from their crates, then looked at the man in confusion when they saw him do the sound and not another goose. Some of the calls were so amusing the crowd laughed and others were very well done and beautiful, the contestants ranged from children to the elderly, and the audience cheered and applauded them all. After the animal calls the "Husband call" contest began with much hilarity. Unbashful wives demonstrated their calls to their men.
"HEEERE! Heeere! Heeere, HerRRNAM!"
Animals were shown and auctioned off, or given prizes.
"The goose chase is going to start soon," Aunt Rena mentioned to John, "Are you going to participate?"
John remembered the chase being mentioned when he and Sarah had gone to the tailors' shop. It did sound interesting.
"Yes, I think I will."
The young man wasn't aware of it, but although the goose chase was for entertainment there was an underlying goal. Many young men entered the chase to impress others including, most especially, the women. This did not mean that the goose chase was exclusively for men to participate in, some brave women who didn't mind getting extremely dirty also took part in the game.
A very small flock of geese had been released in the areana that had been used for the swordfights the day before. The bottom of the fence was boarded up to prevent any escape and even though it was unlikely that these geese could fly since they weighed more than their wild flying brethren, as an extra precaution their wings had been clipped allowing them to only be able to flutter up for a short time, but not fly.
Most of the geese were ganders, donated, or sold cheaply, by the farmers who had no use for them but to eat them since they do not produce eggs. Also these ganders were of the worst tempered, honking loudly and puffing up, ready to bite any hand that dared to venture near.
The participants eased over the fence so as not to startle (or more likely anger) the birds and set up marked crates for them to place a goose in if they were lucky to capture one. Mud squished around booted feet. Sleeves, if they were long, were rolled up, although some kept their sleeves down to protect their arms from the biting that would surely come from the disgruntled geese.
"Start!"
People began running into the center of the muddy arena to where the flock had uneasily huddled. The birds angrily honked and fluttered, scattering and flowing back together in a mass of grey and white feathers and bobbing heads. Men and women alike slid in the mud, falling and tripping over each other while chasing geese. John studied the melee and stopped moving. He crouched down and waited. The large birds mostly ran away from the larger beings chasing them, some turning back and attacking their pursuers. People laughed when a gander that stood its ground started chasing a young man who was barely finished being a boy. He yelled when the grey gander stretched its long neck and painfully nipped the back of his leg while it flapped.
John watched all this and the rest of the chaos patiently and saw that a couple of birds were coming his way in order to avoid the woman chasing after them. The geese noticed too late that they were running to a human and began veering away, but the pale man was quick and he snatched at their necks. They struggled wildly, feathers flying as the pair flapped, almost poking a wing into his eye. John stood up, keeping the birds away at arms length. The woman who had been chasing the birds was smeared in mud, her face almost fully covered in it. She turned in defeat, ready to chase other remaining birds.
"Here," John called out to the muddy woman, "This one's yours. Thanks for letting me catch one."
He held out the larger of the two geese and the woman looked at him timidly, unsure, but accepted the bird when he walked closer. She smiled at him and took the goose, wrapping an arm firmly around its body, pinning its wings to its body and with the other hand she held the struggling bird's neck, trying to keep it from biting her and thrashing.
After making sure the thin woman had a good grip on her goose he released his hold on the bird and secured his own gander and jogged over to his crate and placed the bird in it, quickly throwing the lid down before it could try to jump out.
John and Sarah walked along a dirt road with the crate held between them. The young man had the foresight to tie rope handles to the crate to prevent any necessity of directly handling the crate and allowing the vicious gander a chance at their fingers. They were on their way home to drop the goose off at the stable and for John to wash off the mud before they returned to the festival for the dance practice.
"You did a really nice thing for Tesna," Sarah said, then seeing John's brow wrinkle she added, "She's the lady you gave one of the geese to. She probably needed that goose more than you know, her husband doesn't treat her well and… well, hopefully that goose lays eggs for her, she always has that hungry look about her."
The gander was dropped off in an empty stall with water and some feed and John went on up to take a shower. Sarah went to the medical cabinet and retrieved the can of salve for John's bruises. Its somewhat strong smell reminded her of the night before, warming her. She closed the cool, glass doors of the cabinet with a click and made her way to John's bedroom with the can of salve.
The quick shower felt good to John's sore body and the fact that it removed the mud and grit was an added bonus, even though getting clean was actually the main purpose of the shower. He came out of the bathroom wearing only pants and was rubbing his head with a towel.
Sarah was waiting for him in the bedroom. She looked up when she heard John's feet slapping against the wooden floor. She saw him enter, still rubbing the towel against his head to dry his hair. Sarah stared at him. She had seen him shirtless, and more, before when tending to his injuries, but seeing him doing something as mundane as drying his hair while muscles twitched and pulled with the motions of his arms was certainly… fascinating.
'He's sooo…'
Sarah's mouth went dry.
The young woman cleared her throat along with her mind, or at least attempted to.
"Hm?" John hummed in reply.
"Oh, um, let me medicated your bruises," she mumbled out as she unscrewed the lid of the can.
John pulled the towel of his head and held it loosely in one hand and stepped closer to the attractive dark-haired woman. With sure, but tender, hands Sarah smoothed the soothing salve on his wounds. The doctor's daughter sensed a strangely comforting smell of masculinity seemingly radiating off of John. No, it wasn't quite a scent, but rather a feeling of warmth that coursed through her from the breath she took. In a way it was familiar, akin to what she felt, or sensed in some way, around her father. It was the same feeling as when her father's strong arms had held her in her bedroom to keep bed time monsters away, the same secure feeling when falling asleep at a tavern at her father's side and knowing she would wake up safely tucked in her bed in the morning.
But this feeling, this warmth from John was different. He is not a father, he is an intimacy.
"Sarah? Are you okay?" a concerned voice rattled the doctor-in-training from her thoughts.
Sarah turned her head, a blush staining her cheeks as she replied, "Ah, sorry. Why don't you put on a shirt and we can go back to the barn."
His eyes softened from concern to adoration and a gentle smile spread across his face. He reached out with his left hand and cupped Sarah's chin, pulling her face to him as he leaned down. He barely skimmed his lips against hers when he pulled back and released her, going to his closet in search of a warm shirt, allowing Sarah to compose herself.
Author's Notes:
Well, this chapter has been long over due. Sorry for the almost 1 year wait. I lost motivation to write because of college and all the work that entails. I skimmed through some of these pages of this story and sometimes I find it hard to believe that I actually wrote any of it, it seems so foreign. I'm 20 now and I started this around 16 or 17 and a lot has happened from my first, dare I say "love"? deaths of two people I didn't get to know in the Japanese program to my school and their effect on my close friends who did get to know them, and the sad events of my sister's friend. I think all these events may change my writing from here on out as well as not been writing for a while, I may have become rusty, but we'll see what I do.
Sorry again for the almost one year wait. I wonder if some people remember this story?