CHAPTER 20: WEAVING BONDS, BREAKING BONDS

The summer sun rose high in the sky, bathing town square in a brilliant glow. It was another slow day for Claudia as she sat at her cart attempting to sell her wares while stitching at the toe of a cotton sock. Airy frocks and thin men's shirts were piled high on the little wooden pushcart along with other garments appropriate for summer weather. It had been a disappointing season for sales and it made her anxious. Cloud was growing quickly and she was hoping to get him some new shoes for his birthday while the cobbler was visiting. It wasn't looking very promising. Ted was only in town to make shoes during the summer months, usually heading south once mid-autumn settled in. It was stressful that he was only available for part of the year, since she seemed to make more revenue in the winter and Cloud would certainly outgrow his current pair of boots by next summer. Things like this made her miss how easy it had been to provide for her little blonde toddler as he played barefoot in the grass with a small assortment of toys. It was hard to believe that it had been eleven years since she went into labor on a humid, August night.

A baby's cry drifted to Claudia's ears and she looked up to see the young school teacher trying to console her two month old infant. Since her birth, little Sarah Nelson was immediately the talk of the town. It was seldom that a child was born in Nibelheim—especially a female child—and the new parents were overwhelmed by the attention Sarah brought into their lives. The plump little baby looked so different than Cloud did at that age. Her rosy cheeks and lively brown eyes were the picture of health. Her son had been small and sickly and his arrival laced with fear and anxiety. Hearty baby Sarah was a parent's dream.

She remembered little Tifa being the center of attention in Nibelheim when Claudia had first moved to the sleepy mountain village. She totted about in her frilly little dresses and lacey white bonnet, the village women cooing and fussing over the dark haired baby. Lia had always tried to politely shy away from the attention, but it followed her as long as she had Tifa in tow. It was something Claudia never had to deal with. No one had fussed over her blonde little boy and it had made her angry that he was treated with such contempt. When the villagers decided to withhold themselves from her because of her position as an unmarried mother, she could deal with that. But the fact that the village of Nibelheim actively shunned a small child, who had done nothing to deserve this treatment, made her furious. The effects of this isolation on her son's heart were sure to follow him for the rest of his life and it wasn't fair.

Sighing, she stood up, taking a pretty cotton blanket from her cart and making her way towards Mrs. Nelson.

"Here…for your little girl," she said. "It's a gift from the Strife family. Thank you for teaching my son."

… … …

Sweat beaded on Cloud's forehead as he brought the axe down again and again. Chopping firewood was hard work! He lined up the log, then grunted as he swung and hit his target. His arms ached already. This would be much harder during the winter when he'd need to chop three times as much. He startled when a small voice broke the silence between the periodic twack of the axe on the wood.

"Is that for your wood stove?"

He looked up to see Tifa's round face peering over the fence between their yards.

"That's right. Mom said I'm old enough to use the axe."

Smiling, she came around the fence to join Cloud in his back yard. The boy decided to take a break and leaned the axe against the stump he was using to split the logs before sitting down on the grass. She plopped down beside him and the skirt of her blue pinafore fanning out on the lawn underneath her. Warmth bloomed in his chest when their shoulders touched.

"Could you teach me?"

Cloud shook his head, "Nah. I don't want you to have to worry about firewood, anymore. I worry about you going out into the woods alone to pick up sticks. They don't burn well, anyway. I promise to make sure to always cut you some."

Tifa turned to look at the sincerity in his blue eyes. Cloud was such a selfless and kind person and she couldn't understand what the boys had against him. Over the past few months, she had caught her friends bullying Cloud more than once and it bothered her. After she'd stick up for him, the blonde would assure her that he was fine and things would go back to the way they were. Why did they want to pick on him so much, anyway? It was driving a wedge between her and the trio of boys; her heart had always sided with Cloud, but how was she supposed to treat them now that they were out to get him? Would it be fair to shy away from them? Cloud would probably feel like it was his fault if she stopped playing with her other friends. But it certainly wouldn't be fair to Cloud to keep going forward like nothing had ever happened.

She had thought about asking Papa about it, but decided against it since he wasn't fond of Cloud, either. Mama would've known what to do.

Her eyes fell past the line of pale freckles over his nose and rested on his mouth, reminding the girl of how Thomas had tried to kiss her back in early spring. As much as she was fond of Cloud, she could never imagine kissing his lips! But still, she wanted him to know just how much his benevolence and companionship meant to her. She leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on his right cheek.

"Thank you, Cloud. I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

He blushed furiously and fidgeted awkwardly before clearing his throat. To chase away the giddiness and discomfort of the situation, Tifa piped up with a change of subject.

"Hey! I learned a new kick today. Wanna see? Let's spar!"

Cloud jumped up at the opportunity, "Alright! Let's do it!"

Their little sparring sessions were almost a weekly ritual by now. The pair practiced and fought for a while, careful to never hurt one another, and always had a great deal of fun. Tifa was so grateful to have a sparring mate her own size and below her skill level. Going against Zangan was always difficult and sometimes it was a nice change of pace to teach instead of being taught. Cloud blocked a punch and struck back with one of his own when they were interrupted by a voice.

"Tiiiifa, are you back here?" Thomas appeared around the corner of the house. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Cloud.

"Hi, Thomas," Tifa greeted, wiping the sweat from her brow and smoothing her dress. "What can I do for you?"

Cloud didn't like this. He had always loathed that Thomas and his nasty gang would steal Tifa's attention from him. They constantly goaded him on and he wished that she knew of their manipulative games. Now that Thomas saw the two of them together, he was sure to start something. Tifa's presence alone used to shield him in the past, but he wasn't sure if that was still the way it was. Although the group had always picked on him since they had met, Cloud was certain that his close friendship with Tifa bothered Thomas. The thought made him smirk. The boys' eyes met and tension crackled in the air.

"I came to take you on a walk," the bully glared at Cloud. "You're not busy, right?"

Thomas grabbed Tifa's hand and gently pulled her beside him. Cloud bristled with anger and possessiveness.

"She is busy. We're sparring," the blonde said, trying to remain calm for his friend's sake.

"Sparring? No wonder you're weak, you practice with a girl."

The hurt look on Tifa's face made Cloud clench his fists. He knew that comment was meant to insult him, but it had hurt her instead and that was unacceptable.

"You think I'm weak? I'd knock you flat in a half a minute!" He immediately felt foolish, since Thomas was a year older than Cloud and a good six inches taller. After a few more taunts from his auburn haired adversary, Cloud prepared himself as the bully rushed forward. Cloud was able to hold his own due to over a year of Tifa's careful instruction in martial arts and he could tell Thomas was surprised at his skill. Tifa watched in horror. Master Zangan had instilled in her that martial arts were for self-defense and to help others, not for some petty quarrel.

The fight was short lived. As soon as Thomas landed a blow to Cloud's chin, she stepped in. Using her skills, she caught Thomas in a tight head lock before he knew what hit him. The boy gasped for air.

"Stop it! Leave Cloud alone!"

Cloud looked on as Tifa released her captive and the boy fell to the ground on his hands and knees, catching his breath. Thomas growled at the loss of dignity and straightened to his feet.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?!" He spat, shooting a fiery glance at Tifa. Embarrassment and wounded pride fanned the fire in Thomas's heart. His gaze fell to the firmness of her biceps that he had failed to notice before. The girl kept her mouth shut.

"Master Zangan taught her," Cloud snapped, and Tifa's eyes widened as she turned her head toward her fair haired friend. Oh no. Papa said no one was allowed to know!

"You told me that he rejected you!" Thomas said, pointing at the girl. "You lied to me!"

"No, I—"

"I should've known something was up with you. You've been acting strangely around me for a long time. What have I ever done to deserve that?"

"I can think of at least two dozen things," Cloud seethed, blue eyes never straying from the older boy.

"Can it, Strife! You two are both freaks!" he said, regaining his composure and turning to stomp away. "You're meant to be together, along with your drunkard father!"

Tifa stood in place, shaking fists at her sides, as she watched Thomas storm out of the yard. Cloud swallowed hard when he saw moisture glistening in her eyes. His temper cooling, the boy stood there and wondered what to do to comfort her.

"Don't listen to him, he's always telling lies," Cloud said softly. "You're not a freak, and neither is your dad."

… … …

The house was always eerily quiet once night fell and it was hard to imagine that it had only been two years since her mother's presence had disappeared. When Tifa thought about it, being tucked into bed and having her forehead kissed by Mama felt like a lifetime ago. She slowly climbed the stairs and switched on the electric light of the upstairs hallway. Sometimes, when she lay down in her bed in the empty silence, she imagined she'd wake up and this gloomy life would be just a bad dream. The faint tinkling of her jingle bell pulled Tifa out of her thoughts. She had been hoping Cloud would call. After kissing his cheek today, she had hoped he was thinking about her and wasn't too angry about the encounter with Thomas. Smiling, she turned to move towards her bedroom when the front door opened and an angry shout echoed through the still house.

"Tifa! Get over here!"

She froze at the top of the staircase, heart immediately beginning to thunder in her chest. Instinct told her to run, but experience had taught her that it only got worse if she didn't obey. Trembling, Tifa quietly descended the staircase, bare feet on cold hardwood. The front door was still open, carrying the sound of summer crickets into the house. Papa stood in the doorway, looking like a monster in the muted candlelight of the foyer. His features were wrinkled with anger and his dark eyes full of fury. Tifa let a silent whimper escape but continued obediently towards the man, who grabbed a handful of her hair once she was in arm's reach. She cried out as he threw her on the couch, breath reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.

"What have you done, you little wretch?!" Papa yelled, and all the girl could do was stare frightfully into his rage filled eyes. Her father's large hands pressed her shoulders into the softness of the cushions.

"All everyone is talking about is strange little Lockhart girl that beats up boys in her backyard! I told you never to let anyone know about your training! Do you know how bad this looks?!"

She didn't. Tifa couldn't understand why it might look bad for her to defend Cloud. Sure, it was strange for her to be learning to fight as a girl, but why was Papa so worried that other people knew? She had hoped that he would be proud of her for being a good pupil and learning as quickly as she had. But what had Thomas said? She hadn't hurt him at all!

"How can I ever expect to marry you off now, with everyone thinking ill of you? No one will want you as a bride—you disobedient welch!"

Her father returned his grip to the hair at the crown of her head and began to drag Tifa towards the stairs.

"Your mother is rolling in her grave! No daughter of mine would have been a subject of gossip and ridicule. I don't care what you do, I don't care where you go, just stay out of my sight!"

Papa tossed her to the ground at the bottom of the stairs before turning to head towards his woodshop. Tifa scurried up the stairs and hid away in large wardrobe. Tears were freely running down her face now and she didn't try to stop them. She raised a hand to massage her aching scalp, realizing that his words hurt more than anything he had done to her body. She couldn't be what he needed, and instead caused him constant grief. With a sob, she thought of her mother being disappointed with her. How much would she give to have her back again?

The bell quietly jingled again. She didn't know if she could let Cloud see the tears in her eyes. But what if he needed her? Quiet as a mouse, she pushed out of the wardrobe and opened her window. The candlelight from his room illuminated Cloud's silhouette.

"Hi, Tifa! Mom wanted me to—"he stopped short when he saw the look on her face. "What happened?"

She could only stare at him, words sticking in her throat. The kindness and concern in his eyes broke any resolve she had to keep her misery to herself.

"Tifa, what happened?" he tried again.

"P-please…please, come outside," she begged. Her father did say he didn't care what she did, right? And right now, her need for comfort outweighed the risks.

He nodded and was gone from the window. Tifa crept down the stairs and fled out into the humid night clad only in her night dress, sniffling and breathing with uneven breaths. Desperation and the need for solace carried her into her neighbor's back yard, bare feet pounding the earth. Cloud caught her in his arms and she sank into the comfort of his embrace.

"Don't go…d-don't go!" She hiccoughed and Cloud clung tighter.

It was the first time he'd ever seen Tifa cry and it disturbed him. He didn't know what had happened, but the shouting he had heard and the frightened look in her eyes gave him an idea. Her knees buckled and they both slowly sunk into the grass. The crickets drowned out the sound from Tifa's quiet whimpers. Inside him, Cloud felt an overwhelming need to protect the girl. But what could he do about Mr. Lockhart? What would a hero do? In the stories, it was always straightforward—the hero kills the dragon, rescues the princess, and everything is happy in the end. But this wasn't a story, and there was no monster to slay. But there certainly was a princess to rescue.

Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he told Tifa over and over that he was right here, she wasn't alone.