Kellen - Single, Lonely Farmer
"Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named, not good."
Farmer Kellen wiped the sweat from his forehead, knowing he'd likely smeared dirt in the action. He'd seen the caravan come over the pass this morning, now just after noon, he guessed they would be approaching the outer reaches of the crystal's strength.
Ty had beaten him to the wash basin, so Kellen perched on the nearby fence and turned his tanned face to the sun. Behind him his fields stretched, wheat golden in the sun, the last of the vegetables nearly finished ripening. Sometimes he thought he'd been born sun-browned, the same color as the dry soil. That would have made sense for a farmer: born from the land, work the land, return to the land.
He shouldn't have been having these thoughts, not on a beautiful, crisp fall day like this. He thought he'd chased them away nine winters ago, thrown them out with the last of his whiskey. Bea had never liked the person he became when he drank. With her gone, he'd given the last of the bottles to his farmhand Ty and turned all his attentions to the fields and his then infant daughters. They'd managed all this time, but still, he worried.
"Kell," Ty clapped him on the shoulder, "You're up."
He hopped off the fence, eager to get cleaned. Splashing his face, he gave up and ducked under the pump, letting the cool water rush over his head and shoulders.
The caravan was back, that was one worry gone. Yet he'd heard that Hao Ri had passed away this year. How would he explain to the girls that the friendly lady who had taught them self defense wouldn't be coming home? That death didn't just affect mothers, a term they only understood in the abstract, but friends you knew and loved?
Maybe his old friend Raithen would know the answers. Or Sherrill? He sighed to himself, stepping back and shaking the water from his brown hair, slicking it back. Not a day went by that he didn't think of the girls' future, and find himself worrying. Who would explain the facts of womanhood to them? Who would take care of their needs when they didn't feel they could come to him any longer?
And there were the days he worried for himself, too. He missed casual, intimate touch. He missed leaning on a love stronger than he was alone. He missed having someone to hold.
"Papa!" That was Merry, his eldest. He looked up to see Hope and Lena jumping up and down beside her, up by the house. "The caravan's here!"
He strode up the path, Ty following. Merry was already running down to the village entrance, but Hope waited patiently for both of the men, Lena at her side. When Kellen drew near, Lena reached out her hand and took his.
"Come on, Uncle Kell!" she said with a sweet smile. Kellen couldn't help but smile back. Their hazel eyes met and she squeezed his hand tightly. Of course, he wasn't her real uncle, but Lena had taken to calling him that within the past year.
Maybe someday he would explain to her their real relation. Or, more likely, he'd leave it to Sherrill. His old friend and one-time lover always seemed to have the right words to say.
"Papa!" Merry called again, dragging him from the pit of his own thoughts, waving for them to hurry. "Come on!"
Kellen laughed and paused to lift Lena to his shoulders, then jogged down the road. His youngest daughter, the girl Sherrill and Marina had wanted so desperately, clung tightly to his hands and shrieked with laughter the whole way.