November 4
Roy shuffled downstairs just before ten the following day. Though he was still a bit tired from the hours he'd kept the night before, he'd woken with a growling stomach that had forced him out of bed in search of sustenance.
"Morning," he mumbled semi-coherently as he entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mr. Mustang," Riza greeted him in reply, straightening from where she'd been bent in front of the oven. She was holding a pan of something that smelled sinfully of cinnamon, butter, and sugar. "Cinnamon roll?" she offered, quirking an eyebrow at him.
"Bless you," he replied fervently. Riza flushed in pleasure at the honest appreciation in his voice.
"The coffee should be nearly ready, too," she said, setting the pan down and tugging the oven mitts off her hands.
Having perfected their morning routine over the past several months, their movements through the kitchen complimented each other's seamlessly. Roy fetched the coffee pot and the jug of cream, placing them on the table beside the sugar bowl and coffee mugs that Riza had already set out. Meanwhile, Riza pried warm cinnamon rolls out of the pan and arranged them on plates, protesting only mildly when Roy whisked the full plates out from under her hands as he passed by. Roy poured out the coffee while Riza filled a small bowl with bright orange clementines, freshly picked from the orchard. After Riza had carried the fruit to the table and settled into the chair across from his, Roy passed over her coffee mug with a bright smile.
"Any movement from below?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the basement laboratory. Riza frowned and shook her head, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic of the coffee mug.
"Not yet. He's been more distracted than usual the last couple of days, though. I think he's had some kind of breakthrough with his research." By telling him such a thing, Riza was once again revealing the extent of her trust in Roy. Though she looked slightly worried as soon as the words left her mouth, they both knew it was due to concern for her father's health and not out of fear of Roy's potentially nefarious intentions.
"Hmm. And here I thought he gave me the week off as a reward," he said lightly. "Turns out he just wanted me out of his hair for a while." He paused to bite into his cinnamon roll, and almost moaned aloud. "Oh wow, these are amazing," he managed to say around another mouthful. "Juliet can never know about these. She'll have a fit if she ever finds out I like yours better." Riza's lips twitched, but her brow was still furrowed in absentminded concern.
"Your secret's safe with me," she replied vaguely, half her attention elsewhere. Peeling a clementine, Roy cast about for a more engaging topic.
"So, tell me more about this Harvest Festival of yours," he said at last, popping a section of the tangy citrus into his mouth. "It's an annual thing, yeah?" Riza finally tore her eyes away from the door and focused on her companion.
"Hm? Oh, yes, it's always after the last of the crops are in for the year," she said. "We haven't actually gone in ages, although I always make a dozen or so pies and send them into town with Mrs. James. She and the nurse from the clinic run a sweets booth," she explained, brightening a little. "And Doctor James usually helps out too, unless he's busy with patients. He likes passing out candy to the little ones."
"He would," Roy chuckled. "Sounds like everyone contributes something, from what I've heard so far."
"Yes, they all put in a lot of effort to prepare. People take turns manning the booths and games and things, so that everyone has the opportunity to enjoy the festival, and no one's ever stuck working all night," she added.
"Seems fair. But you said you haven't been in a few years? Why not?" Roy asked, although he suspected he knew the answer already. Riza shrugged a little and looked uncomfortable. "It's not like you don't know everyone there," he teased her gently.
"Of course I know everyone. Or mostly everyone," she conceded, a slight frown on her face. "But Papa doesn't really care for the festival, and I've never felt up to going by myself. Perhaps I should volunteer to help Mrs. James and Ms. Drake this year, rather than just baking the pies," she mused. It was Roy's turn to frown.
"I was kinda hoping that you and I could go to the festival together," he said. Riza's eyes widened slightly.
"You mean…you want to go? With me?" she asked incredulously. Roy flushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. She didn't have to sound so surprised.
"Well, yeah. If you wanted to go, that is," he said. "Don't you?" Riza shifted a little in her chair and looked down.
"It's not—I guess I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted quietly. "I haven't gone to the festival since my mother died."
"Oh," Roy breathed, unsure how else to respond. Dammit, he'd known it had something to do with her mom. How in the hell did he keep putting his foot in it? "Look, if you aren't up for it, that's fine," he babbled. "It just sounded like it might be fun, is all, and I thought we could go together, as friends, but if you don't want to, then—"
"I haven't said that I don't want to," Riza interrupted him softly. Roy froze, with another apology still on his lips, and Riza smiled a little. "It's not like I've been avoiding it on purpose or anything," she added.
"No?" Roy croaked.
"No," Riza echoed. "It's just…it's something people go to with their families and friends. And since Papa wasn't really interested, and I'm not very close with anyone my age in town…going by myself would've felt a bit too lonely. I suppose I've forgotten how much fun we used to have before, when Mama and I went together," she continued. "But…"
"But?" Roy repeated, hopefully.
"But…I think I'd like to go with you this year. If you're still offering," she said shyly.
"Really? Yeah, let's go, then!" he replied, beaming at her and cheering inwardly. "I can't wait. Mrs. White has been going on and on about her famous 'Harvest Cornbread and Sausage Stuffing' for at least a month now. I can't not try it, after all that."
"You'd better be careful," Riza warned, with a mischievous grin. "She and Mrs. Pippin have a long-standing feud over who makes the better stuffing. They'll be all over you for an 'impartial' opinion, since they know the rest of the town is too scared to take sides." Roy groaned.
"Oh, great. So either I never get another letter from home, or I'm banned from the best fruit stall at the market. Lovely. Maybe I can just tell them I'm allergic to cornbread," he mused.
"Good luck," Riza retorted, chuckling. "Mrs. Pippin uses sourdough bread in hers, so she'll just win by default."
"Ok, suddenly this whole festival thing is losing its appeal," Roy laughed, refilling his coffee. "Maybe sensei is onto something by avoiding it. Or maybe he's too afraid to choose sides, too."
"Oh, no, not Papa. He told them flat out that he prefers Mrs. Pippin's Sourdough Apple Sage stuffing, because he doesn't care for sausages. Why do you think we have to go all the way into town to get our mail?" Riza asked, arching a brow. Roy gaped at her for a full thirty seconds before both teens dissolved into laughter.
"You're not serious? Right, so we'll need a plan to avoid whatever booth those two are running," Roy finally managed. "Or does the Great Stuffing Conflict happen at the potluck?"
"The potluck. The Pippins run a stall with hard cider and beer, and the Whites make these pretty toys from folded paper, little animals and dolls and things. Maybe if we just avoid those two stalls and the big tent where the potluck is, they won't notice that they haven't seen you," she said.
"Or maybe I can just pitch myself on the ground and feign an illness if I happen to run into either of them," Roy said darkly. Riza just laughed again.
"Oh, we'll think of something, don't worry," she said lightly. Roy offered her a wry smile.
"Say, do you need anything from town today?" he asked after a moment. "I wanted to go and see what I can do to help out with the festival, so I can feel like I've contributed. Maybe I can help build booths or something. Plus, I've got to send this letter, since it might be the last time I'm welcome in the post office," he said, pouting. Riza tried and failed to hide her snort of laughter.
"I can't think of anything I need, thank you. But…do you mind if I join you?" she asked, rising and gathering their empty plates. She glanced at the door to the lab again. "If he's not out by this time, he'll be in there all day again," she sighed.
Roy rose and moved to stand in front of her. The furrows in her brow were back again. They both knew that if she stayed home alone, Riza would end up watching the laboratory door all day again, waiting and fretting and telling herself that everything was fine and trying not to think about all of the things that could go wrong in alchemic experiments. Gently, Roy took the dishes from her hands and placed them in the sink.
"Come on. I'll help you with those later. And we'll just leave out the rest of the rolls in case sensei gets hungry enough to emerge from his cave while we're out, okay?"
"Yes, all right," she replied with a wan smile.
"Let's go, then," he said. He dashed upstairs to fetch his letters, and waited while Riza put on her coat. As she secured the door behind them, Roy stifled an unexpected yawn.
"You know," Riza began, frowning at him as she tucked her key away into a pocket. "You've only just recovered from that terrible cold; you really should make sure you're getting enough rest…" Roy waved a hand as though to brush away her concern as he led the way towards the main road.
"I'm fine, honest. I stayed up too late last night, is all," he said, glancing at her as she fell into step beside him. Had she realized that she hadn't made it to her room under her own power last night?
"Yes, I know," she replied, shooting him a sly look under her lashes. Roy fidgeted. "You see, I woke up in my own bed this morning, but I distinctly remember falling asleep in the parlor," Riza continued.
"Oh, that's—um…" Roy stammered. "Well, you see…I didn't want to wake you, and…I mean, I tried to, but you didn't wake up right away, and then I felt guilty. You looked so peaceful…and it's not like I haven't carried you before…" he trailed off, looking at her sideways. She didn't seem upset with him, though she was flushing a little.
"Thank you, then, for taking care of me," she said softly, avoiding his eyes.
"Sure, any time," Roy mumbled. They were spared further awkward conversation by the sound of a horse-drawn cart rattling down the road, coming up from behind them.
"Hello!" a familiar voice called out. "Whoa, easy now, there's a good girl," the newcomer continued, presumably speaking to his horse. Riza and Roy drew to the side of the road to let the cart pass, but it rattled to a shuddering halt beside them instead, and Roy found himself looking up into the cheerful blue eyes of Peter Kingsley.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kingsley," Riza greeted him in her soft, formal way.
"Hey," Roy added, smiling.
"Hi, there," Peter replied, with a wide, genuine smile. "You folks headed into town?" They nodded. "Want a lift, then? I'm going that way myself," he offered. Roy spared a glance at Riza, who had no objections, before he agreed on their behalf. Peter jumped down from his seat. "Ladies first," he said gallantly. "Miss Hawkeye?"
"Thank you," Riza murmured as she placed her hand in Peter's much larger one. With his other hand steady on her hip, Peter carefully boosted her up into the wagon's bench seat. Once she was safely seated, Peter gave Roy a rougher, more masculine boost. Moments later, the three teens were underway again, rattling along the dirt road.
"Glad to see you up and about, again, Mustang," Peter said. "The doc mentioned that you'd been pretty ill."
"Thanks, I'm glad to be back up and about," Roy replied. "So, uh, what's with all the hay?" He added, gesturing at the cart behind them.
"It's for the festival," Peter answered. "The Women's Auxiliary Committee asked me to help out. They're in charge of a lot of the prep work leading up to the main event, see. They'll use the bales for all sorts of things: decorations, extra seating, dividing walls between booths, you name it. This is the third load I've hauled in today, and I'm sure it won't be the last."
"They'll keep you pretty busy, then?" Roy asked.
"Have to do my bit," Peter shrugged modestly. "My mum and little sisters are making a bunch of stuff for the potluck supper, and since Nurse Drake is away, Ed's been roped into helping Dr. and Mrs. James with their booth. Speaking of, are you making those famous apple pies again, Miss Hawkeye?" he asked, peering around Roy. Riza nodded wordlessly and blushed, slightly embarrassed by the praise.
"Crowd favorites, they are," Peter said confidentially to Roy. "People have been known to clamor. Makes Miss Sarah Granger a tad jealous…she's used to being first in just about everything, but when it comes to baking, the poor thing doesn't stand a chance."
"Not with her cranberry cobbler, she doesn't," Riza said under her breath. Roy smirked. Raising her voice so that Peter could hear her, this time, Riza added: "Have the Grangers done their corn field maze again this year, Mr. Kingsley?"
"Sure have!" Peter answered happily. "I'm gonna be driving folks back and forth all night during the festival, in fact. Well, part of the night, anyway. Mr. Granger and Tom will each take a shift, too, so I'm not stuck with all the work." Seeing his chance, Roy spoke up.
"Talking of work, I don't suppose you'd know if there's anything festival-related that I could help out with?" Roy asked. "Miss Riza's too kind to actually ban me from her kitchen, but I'm a lousy cook, and I don't want to be in the way." At the barely concealed snort from his other side, Roy quickly amended: "Well, more than usual, I mean." Peter looked at him thoughtfully.
"You know, I may have just the thing," he said, with a warm smile. "The little kids are doing some sort of song and dance deal, up on the big stage before the bonfire starts. The main part of the stage is already up, of course, cuz of the band, but the kids still needed help building and painting the sets or backdrops or whatever you call 'em. Last I heard my cousin Polly was looking for a few more big kids to help out. How's that sound?"
"Perfect," Roy said cheerfully. "And where would I find Miss Plummer this time of day?" Peter hummed and pursed his lips.
"Feed store, I think?" he said. "She ought to be working there this afternoon with my aunt. Want me to drop you off there?"
"Yes, please," Roy and Riza said in unison. Peter glanced at them with some amusement, but didn't comment.
They chatted cheerfully for the remaining mile into town, and all too soon Peter was drawing up outside the feed store. Leaping gracefully out of his seat, Peter waited until Roy had jumped down as well, before reaching out for Riza with a questioning look. When she nodded, he spanned her slender waist with his large, calloused hands and lifted her down bodily, as carefully as if she were some fragile thing. Roy swallowed a wave of sudden, irrational fury brought on by the sight of Peter's hands on Riza's waist, reflexively clenching his fists as Peter set her gently on the ground.
"Don't be so ridiculous, you idiot," Roy told himself firmly. "Peter's a decent guy. He's not gonna hurt her." Oddly enough, this thought didn't help much. He tried not to notice that Riza had pinked up again, although he immediately wondered whether her blush was due to the older boy's touch or Roy's being a witness to it (which was, of course, counterproductive to the whole not-noticing bit).
Before Roy had worked through his sudden flare of jealousy, Peter was clapping him on the back and clambering back into his cart.
"Thanks for the lift, Mr. Kingsley!" Roy called out, remembering his manners.
"Any time! And call me Peter!" the older boy replied cheerily.
"Only if you drop the 'Mustang,'" Roy retorted with a grin.
"Consider it done," Peter grinned as he flicked the reins. "See you at the festival, Roy! Miss Hawkeye!" He tipped his cap to Riza as his cart rattled away.
Roy smiled in spite of himself and shoved his hands into his coat pockets, watching the older boy drive away. He really did like Peter…it was hard not to, really, as he was such an open, friendly person. Golden boy, Riza had called him once. Dammit, now Roy was annoyed with him again. Which was stupid, because it wasn't Peter's fault that he was friendly and courteous, in a straightforward kind of way. And a little bit charming. And really rather good-looking, too, if you went for the tall, lean, well-muscled type. And besides, just because Riza had flushed a little at a compliment and a casual touch, it didn't automatically mean that she had a crush on him. Did it?
Desperately trying to ignore the knots in his stomach, Roy finally turned back to Riza, who'd been watching the exchange between the two boys with a curiously impassive look on her face.
"After you," he said, with an exaggerated, sweeping bow. Riza rolled her eyes but smiled a very little as she walked ahead of him into the Plummer family feed store.
"Oh, is that Miss Hawkeye? And Mr. Mustang, hello there," the pretty blonde girl greeted them, her smile as sweet as her older cousin's. "What can I do for you?"
"Good afternoon, Miss Plummer," Roy began.
"Polly, please," the blonde interrupted with a laugh.
"All right, Miss Polly, then," Roy compromised. "I heard you were looking for help building some things for the festival, so I came to volunteer." Polly's eyes sparkled, and her smile lit up her whole face.
"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! Yes, we could really use another set of hands…Look, my shift ends in about an hour; can I meet you to talk about arrangements? " she asked.
"Sure, sounds good," he agreed. Polly turned to Riza with her hands clasped at her breast.
"And Miss Hawkeye, you'll come too, won't you? I know you'll have your hands full making food again this year, but you can just come and keep us company, if you'd like," the older girl said hopefully. "It's always nice to have another girl around; helps keep all those rowdy boys in line," she added with a girlish giggle. Riza offered her a small, polite smile.
"I'm not sure that I'll be much use with that, but I'll come," she said.
An hour later, the three teens settled around a table at the café with steaming mugs of cider in hand.
"So the school kids are putting on a play," Polly explained, toying with a ring on her little finger. "It's an interpretation of an old Amestrian novella, about a man who falls in love with a life-size doll."
"You can't mean Olympia?" Riza asked, frowning. "Doesn't that story have a rather tragic ending?" Polly nodded.
"Yes, it was originally a horror story, but the kids don't know that," she said, with an indulgent smile. "See, the variation they've got was written by someone else, who changed a few things from the original when he made it into a play. The inventor, Coppola, is still a pretty bad guy, but he's not a cold-blooded killer. In this version, Coppola's in love with his doll himself, and he tricks Nicolas into falling for her too, so that he can lure him to his workshop. His plan is to bind Nicolas's soul to the doll, which will supposedly bring her to life. But Nicolas is rescued by his jilted sweetheart Clara right before Coppola can actually go through with it, and of course Nicolas comes to his senses and begs Clara for her forgiveness, and they live happily ever after." Riza listened with rapt attention.
"The inventor falls in love with his creation? That sounds more like Galatea and Pygmalion than Olympia," she said, fascinated. "In the original novella, Nicolas goes mad and commits suicide when he learns the truth," she explained in an aside to Roy, who looked a little lost.
"I think I prefer the version with the happy ending," he said, smiling. "So, Miss Polly, what can I do to help?" Roy prompted.
"Oh, yes, of course!" Polly said. "Sorry, I'm too easily sidetracked. Anyway, we've been working on painting some sets and backdrops and things. There's one of the village square, and then there's Coppola's workshop for the second act," she began to explain.
Roy nodded and asked questions where necessary, making notes as well as suggestions.
"Great!" Polly said at last. "We'll have the sets finished in no time! Now all we have to worry about is Clara's wedding gown. I've barely started on it, and I'm such a terrible seamstress," she lamented. She eyed Riza speculatively. "Say…Miss Hawkeye, how are you at sewing?"
"It's not my strongest skill," she answered modestly.
"But you made the dress you've got on, didn't you? I recognize the fabric from Mrs. Taylor's shop." Riza looked down at her hands.
"Yes, I did," she said softly. Roy raised his eyebrows. He hadn't known that. Trust a girl to notice the finer details, he thought.
"Well, then that just proves how good you are at sewing!" Polly cried. "I would never have been able to tell if I hadn't seen the original fabric."
"I…I've never made anything as nice as a wedding dress, though," Riza started to say hesitantly.
"Oh, but it's only a kid's costume! It doesn't have to be all perfect and fancy with the lace and frills, like a real wedding gown. It just has to be white, really, and sort of pretty-ish. I hate to impose, Miss Hawkeye, but would you please consider just stopping by to take a look at it for me? At least tell me where I'm going wrong? How I can improve? Oh please, please, say you will!" Roy watched with amusement as Riza's shyness fell away, replaced by bright-eyed determination.
"If you need my help, then I'd be happy to. May I come tomorrow with Mr. Mustang, or are you working on the costumes somewhere different?" Polly looked as though she could hardly believe her luck.
"Oh, no, please do come with Mr. Mustang," she said breathlessly. "I'll bring along what we've got so far, and you and I will work on them while the others paint. We can make a party of it! I'll tell everyone to bring snacks and everything. Oh, this will be fun!" she added, clapping her hands together again.
Her excitement was contagious, and Riza found herself offering to bring sandwiches. Polly cheerfully agreed, and then dashed away, saying she was going to be late getting home and that her mother would have her hide.
"I'm not entirely sure what just happened," Riza said slowly as she and Roy left the café.
"I think you just offered to make food for half a dozen teenagers, who're known for their locust-like appetites," he laughed.
"I suppose I'll need to stop by the shops today after all," she sighed, shaking her head. "But I was actually talking about the costumes. If I didn't know Miss Plummer better, I'd accuse her of using empty flattery to trick me into helping," she chuckled.
"She's probably been dying to ask you to help her with the costumes from the beginning but was afraid to ask," Roy said wisely. "And her compliments on your sewing sounded pretty sincere to me. Hey, I didn't know you made your own dresses."
"Not all of them," Riza mumbled, embarrassed. "And only for the past year or so. I've got a few simple patterns, and my mother's old sewing machine is still in really good condition. It's less expensive to buy fabric and make it up myself, rather than buying the finished product. It's not like I have any need for the fashionable dresses, anyway," she shrugged.
She had a point, there. She wasn't some debutante in the big city, trying to impress her peers and potential suitors with a stylish trousseau. But in any event, Roy rather liked her simple dresses better.
"The simple patterns suit you," he said simply, letting his eyes rake across her figure. "Take it from someone who sees the 'latest and greatest' fashions on a regular basis back home. Some of them look pretty ridiculous. All those poofs and frills just distract from a woman's natural beauty. You're better off just the way you are."
Riza's face glowed like the setting sun, and Roy's heart skipped a beat as he recalled that his words, too, had the power to make her blush.
"Flatterer," she mumbled darkly, self-consciously tucking her hands into her pockets as they walked. Roy just laughed.
"It's not flattery if it's true, Miss Riza."
A.N. So remember when I said I only had two more chapters to go? Well, those two chapters kept getting longer and longer...two became three, and three became four...so I take it back. This story may go on for just a little while yet :) Also, I've just realized how often Riza blushes in this chapter-I think I've been reading too much shoujo manga lately. Anyway, thanks again for the lovely reviews and alerts and favorites! You guys are the best!
xoxo Janie
P.S. Anyone figure out which novella I referred to here? Bonus if you know which ballet it inspired :)