CHAPTER 2: DISAGREEMENTS

Claudia Strife hummed as she hung freshly washed laundry to dry in the midday sun of early May. Cloud sat on the grass under the nearby pine tree, fingering the well-worn pages of the thick book of children's stories she had given to him on his last birthday. Nearing six years old, she knew he should be in school with the other children. Every time she heard young Jane Strauss ring her bell to beckon her little students into the town's tiny school house, she felt a pang of guilt. But what could she do?

Cloud wasn't like the other children. The others wouldn't be kind to him because he was small and weak. The children of the town were sure to have been poisoned by their parents' gossip regarding that unmarried Strife girl and her fatherless, bastard child. Cloud was smart; she knew that. The hours she spent teaching him by candlelight in their tiny kitchen proved fruitful. He could already read better than most eight year olds and could do rudimentary arithmetic expected of a child his age.

She sighed as she pulled another pin from the basket to secure a damp frock to the line. Was she doing more harm than good? Cloud couldn't stay shut away in their tiny house forever. Claudia turned to glance at her son, who lifted his golden head when he realized Mom had stopped humming and felt her eyes upon him. He gave her a small smile before returning his attention to his book and running his fingers over an illustration of two frogs as he read the accompanying story to himself.

He needed friends. He needed the company of peers to mature and grow to be a well-adjusted young man. So far, the attitude of the townspeople, her protective measures and Cloud's frail disposition had resulted in a lonesome existence for her and her son.

BANG went the back door of the Lockhart house, snapping Claudia out of her thoughts and startling Cloud, who flinched and looked up. Out of the corner of her eye, Claudia could see little Tifa bounding out onto the back porch with her hobby horse and her father's riding hat. She hopped down each of the porch steps before leaping to the ground. The girl bounced around most of the yard before she noticed mother and son in the neighboring yard. Hobby horse dropped and forgotten, she raced to the white fence separating the yards to peer through the slats.

"Hello!" the little girl called. Claudia smiled and Cloud stiffened.

"Good day, Miss Lockhart!" the woman replied as she picked up her empty basket and met Tifa at the fence.

"Good day…"Tifa's eyes strayed from Claudia's face and finally landed on Cloud before her plump cheeks turned up with a smile, "Hi, Cloud! Do you want to play?"

Cloud wasn't sure. He looked down at his book, back at the house, and froze when his blue eyes locked with Tifa's wine colored ones. He wanted to say yes, but what if he started to feel sick? What if she found out why no one wanted to talk to him and she decided that she didn't want to, either? He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it wouldn't leave and his heart suddenly started to beat faster.

"O-ok," he finally managed, shutting his book and placing it carefully under the apple tree. This was always the hardest part. He had played with Tifa many times before. Initially gathering the courage to join her was always difficult, but once he was with her, it was easy to forget about the things he was afraid of.

Tifa grinned and hurried to open the little wooden gate for him. Cloud looked at his mother for reassurance before she smiled and gave him a little wave, "Be back for supper alright?"

Cloud nodded and walked through the gate with apprehension before Tifa gently took his hand and led him towards her little sand pit. Claudia let out a sigh of relief before turning to head inside. Thank heaven for that little Lockhart girl.

… … …

"Guess what, guess what!" Tifa swung her legs over the side of the porch as she eagerly bit into a ginger cookie. Cloud nibbled his own cookie and looked towards his playmate.

"Yesterday was my birthday!" Tifa exclaimed, "Now I'm five years old, just like you!"

Cloud's heart sunk. He had forgotten her birthday! He would be so sad if someone important to him had forgotten his birthday, but Tifa didn't seem to mind.

"Mama baked me a birthday cake—a big white one with a little flower on top made of frosting! I got new shoes, too."

Cloud looked down at his own bare feet and swallowed a pang of jealousy. He hadn't had shoes for a long time and could barely remember what it felt like to have his toes confined by leather. Mom said there just wasn't enough money for shoes. Instead she wrapped his feet with cloth and made him a pair of tiny fabric sandals to wear as he accompanied her on her errands. Of course, the lack of footwear kept him inside most of the winter. Cloud liked to pretend that he preferred the indoors because of his lack of shoes and not because the frigid air made it hurt to breathe.

Tifa finished her cookie and wiped her hands on the skirt of her faded play dress. She grinned as she turned to face Cloud.

"—and I got a nice present, too! Wanna see?"

She was already on her feet before Cloud could respond.

"It's in my Papa's workshop; he made it for me. He's got all kinds of neat stuff in there! Come on, I'll show you. "

The thought of exploring something new sparked Cloud's curiosity and he let Tifa lead him into the back door, through the kitchen and down the old staircase. The stairs were coated with a light layer of saw dust, and the smell of fresh wood hung heavy in the air. Tifa reached up on her tip toes to hit the light switch, bathing the room in artificial light that flickered once in a while. She knew that it was against the rules to play in the woodshop, but certainly if they just looked it would be fine, right? Tifa led the way down the steps.

"Woah…" Cloud gaped.

His blue eyes widened at all there was to see in the small work space. Tools of all sorts lined the walls: files and hammers and hand saws of many shapes and sizes. Cans of wood stain and glaze sat on the floor and lined the wall on the far side of the room, near the large table saw and work bench. The countertops along the walls were piled haphazardly with unfinished furniture pieces, wagon wheels, window frames and the like. Lying next to a large, red toolbox sat a brightly painted birdhouse.

Tifa poked Cloud to get his attention and pointed at it.

"There it is! That's my birdhouse! Isn't it pretty?" She carefully pushed a stool over and climbed up to pull herself onto the counter, "Papa said that when we hang it up outside a bird might build a nest in it an' lay eggs in there!"

Cloud grinned at the thought, "We could watch the eggs hatch."

"Uh huh!" Tifa answered, " An' watch the mama bird teach them to fly! Here, I'll pass it down to you so you can see."

Saw dust clung to her stockings and to the skirt of her pinafore as Tifa leaned over the tool box to pick up her birdhouse.

… … …

Lia wiped her brow as she closed the wooden chest in her bedroom closet. She had finished storing the family's winter clothes away, filling the dressers with summer attire. Tifa was growing fast, and Lia sighed as she realized many of her stockings and frocks would have to be either taken out to make room for her growth or replaced entirely. She had just stood up and slid the closet door closed when she heard a crash of metal coming from downstairs. Lia reached the bottom of the steps when she heard her husband's voice.

"Hey! What are you doing down there?" Brian shouted, his heavy boot steps heading towards the basement stairs. By the time Lia had joined him in the woodshop, he had Tifa by the arm and Cloud had already hidden himself under the counter.

"You there—Strife boy!" Brian growled, "Come here." Cloud gulped and somehow gathered enough courage to obey. He kept his eyes cast downward where the tool box had fallen, littering the floor with all kinds of metal utensils. Tifa tugged her father's arm.

"Don't yell at Cloud! I just wanted to show him—"

"Tifa! You know that I've told you time and time again how dangerous it is in here!" Brian interrupted. "What were you thinking? " Tifa peeped through her bangs at her father's angry face, cheeks red with fear and embarrassment. Oh, now he'd done it! Papa had gone and scared him and Cloud will never want to come back to play, now!

"I'm sorry, Papa." Tifa said as she lowered her eyes to her feet. She felt herself being ushered towards the stairs.

"Go on, up to your room," Brian ordered and Tifa bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "And you…"he pointed at Cloud, "Go on home, now."

Tifa was escorted away by her father and Lia moved to put a hand on Cloud's shoulder. Once Brian and Tifa had ascended out of ear shot, Lia knelt down in front of Cloud.

"It's alright," she reassured the small boy, "He was just worried about you two. Are you hurt?" Cloud bowed his head apologetically.

"No," he whispered. Lia gently cupped his chin to tilt his head up towards her and smiled at him when he met her carmine eyes.

"Come on," she took Cloud's hand, "Let me walk you home. We can pack up two pieces of Tifa's birthday cake—one for you and one for your mother. Doesn't that sound nice?"

… … …

Tifa climbed down the stairs and padded across the wooden floor of the foyer. She had taken her bath, brushed her teeth and combed her damp hair with Mama. When she peeked into the kitchen, she saw her father filling the tea kettle with water from the tap.

"Will you put me to bed, Papa?" she asked as Brian banked the wood in the stove and set the kettle on top to boil. He turned and faced her with a mischievous grin, holding both arms up with his fingers wide.

Tifa knew what this meant. With a shriek and a grin she quickly turned and sped back through the foyer. She tried not to trip on her night gown as she fumbled up the stairs, her father's mock growls and roars growing louder behind her. Tifa turned at the top of the stairs, raced through the door to her bedroom and leaped onto her bed just as her father caught her to tickle her sides and blow a raspberry on her cheek.

"Your mustache tickles!" Tifa laughed, gasping for air as Papa turned back the covers to place her underneath. The little girl set her head upon the pillow, her smile fading momentarily.

"I'm sorry that I went into your workshop today."

Brian pressed a kiss to her forehead, "It's alright, sweet pea. It's not safe in there and I thought you might have been hurt." He tucked her in before switching off the lamp on the nearby desk.

"From now on, I expect you to be a good girl and do as you're told. Understood?"

"Yes, Papa. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said closed the door before making his way downstairs.

… … …

"How often has that Strife boy been over here?" Brian asked with a slight edge of annoyance in his voice. Lia set down her mug of tea gently before looking her husband in the eye. The subject of the little blonde boy had always been one on which they did not agree.

"Cloud and Tifa play together all the time. They're neighbors, it's only natural."

Brian's mouth twitched as he shifted in his chair, "Lia…it seems harmless and all now, but what about later? Think of Tifa's future—her social life. Her marriage prospects…"

Claudia and Cloud were a controversial pair at best. The village of Nibelheim was a small, isolated town where there was little room for change in traditional social norms. Lia kept her eyes on her tea and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"They're children. Let them play! Cloud is a lonely kid, not a monster. Let the old women gossip; I don't care. He's a good boy, Brian. He loves Tifa and they get along well-" She knew immediately that she said the wrong thing before the words completely left her mouth.

"Heaven forbid he falls in love with her! How could I let my daughter marry a fatherless child of questionable lineage—what kind of parent would I be?" Brian snapped, gripping his mug and making eye contact with his wife.

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself. They're children…" Lia said softly. "Let's just let things be for now, alright?"

She watched as Brian gulped his tea, rose to put his mug in the sink and excused himself. He adored Tifa and wanted the best for his only daughter but sometimes Lia wished he could see the fault in his protective measures.