Nothing.
That's the amount information I receive. No word. No updates.
I spend the remainder of the day and long into the night thinking about Katniss Everdeen. Trapped on the other side of the fence. Waiting for someone to find her and put her under arrest. None of the options are pretty and most of them have me worried out of my mind. She's been such an important part of Peeta's happiness recently. I don't know what he'll do without her.
The morning arrives before sleep does and my heavy eyes refuse to read the recipes correctly. I have to throw out an entire bowl of dough due to my carelessness.
Mixing. Still no word. Surely if they'd been arrested, I'd have heard something, right? They aren't being whipped or hung because the square is vacant, but maybe they've been taken elsewhere. Kneading. Don't think about the other possibilities. There are plenty of logical explanations. Peeta wouldn't leave me in the dark, though. Why haven't we heard?
The sound of the door opening sends a plunging feeling racing through my stomach. Could that be more Peacekeepers? Who are they looking for this time? But the footfalls aren't heavy enough and in a moment, the firelight is reflecting his golden curls. Peeta enters the kitchen, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and leans up against the doorframe. I stare at him, unable to speak as a thousand unutterable questions pile up on my tongue.
"It's okay," Peeta rubs his eyes. "Everything's fine."
"What?"
"Yeah, we're all fine." He massages his temples. "Katniss came home. Apparently she slipped and fell on some ice."
"On ice?" It doesn't make sense. The explanation doesn't account for the unprecedented amount of time she spent mysteriously unlocatable. I was beyond positive that she'd been in the woods. She should be there now. How could she have gotten through the fence without being electrocuted to death? "You - I don't understand," I bleat pathetically. My son's here. He's actually standing in front of me, not cuffed, not beaten bloody, and not accompanied by Peacekeepers. "What happened? Did they hurt you? Were they just mistaken? How'd Katniss get over the fence? I thought-"
"Shhhhh," Peeta looks around nervously. "Come with me," he says in a low hiss that can barely be heard above the roaring fire.
He pulls me outside and starts off down the road towards the Victor's Village at a languid pace. Seeing him, I'd think he was just out for a morning stroll. After a brief moment of bewilderment, I hurry after him, forcing myself to match his stride even though my brain is telling me to bolt. When we are far away from town, Peeta stops and begins talking very quickly. The blue shadows under his eyes match those of the wintery sky.
"Listen, Dad, we're not safe. The Capitol is listening to our conversations, watching us. Katniss was over the fence yesterday, at least I'm pretty sure. I don't know how she got back over so don't bother asking. She's injured. Badly. Broken heel and bruised tailbone. She's been in bed, so we never got a chance to talk in private. The Peacekeepers knew that she'd gone into the woods, though. If they'd been able to prove it, this conversation probably wouldn't be happening right now. Thread won't let her slip through his fingers again."
The earlier questions melt away, leaving me with the all too familiar feeling of having been sucker punched. "What are you saying, Peeta?"
"It's not safe anymore. You can't say anything you want. Our house, the square, it's all bugged. My phone and Katniss's are being tapped. You have to tell the rest of the family, somewhere away from town, so that they don't say anything dangerous."
"Dangerous? Katniss couldn't even whisper what happened? You said she was injured?"
He huffs, exasperated. "Yeah. Came home last night with a broken heel, I told you that. But did you listen to what I just said? We can't talk anymore, even in the bakery. It's not safe."
My eyes water from the cold as the realization sinks in. "Why's the Capitol watching you?"
Peeta shakes his head. "You know why. They think we're the instigators and they will nail us on anything they can, no matter how thin. You have to keep your mouth sealed. Can you do that?"
I nod. It's not like I have a choice. I've never had to worry about saying something wrong in public because I usually keep to myself. But at home, in the bakery, is the one place I can actually say what I'm feeling. My safe haven is no longer safe, in fact, it might be more dangerous. One slip up, one loose set of lips, and Peeta could be in serious trouble. For the sake of my son, though, I try not to let my dismay show. "What did the Peacekeepers do? Once she came home?"
"It was getting late. They weren't going to wait much longer. Everyone was getting really nervous, even Haymitch though he tried not to show it. And then she stumbled through the door. We all played it off like we'd been expecting it all along, but I doubt our acting skills were all that." He shrugs. "The Peacekeepers tried to find some sort of evidence, but they just couldn't."
"And so, they just walked out?"
"What other choice did they have?" Peeta blinks a few times. "Haymitch and I stayed for dinner and then, Katniss needed to rest so I took her upstairs. She looked completely drained. I don't know what happened out there, but…" he trails off with a shake of his head.
"Did you get any sleep at all?" It doesn't look like it. My own eyes feel weighed down and I think it's safe to bet he feels the same way.
"Not much. By the time she got home, it was already pretty late. And then.." He scuffs his boot against the ground.
"And then what?" I'm genuinely curious.
"She asked me to stay with her for awhile, so… I did."
Why am I so impossibly bad at reading clues? Now I've embarrassed him. "You, you don't have to tell me things like that if - if you don't want to."
He shakes his head, wearily waving off my concern. "No, it's fine. Not much of a secret anyway. She was drugged - sleep syrup - so there wasn't anything going on. I just watched over her for a bit until her mother made me go home."
I want to ask more. Their relationship is such a mystery to me. I can't separate their camera relationship from that of their confusing personal one. "Is she - is she different, really, than the girl she is on TV?" I've never asked this before, but it slips out before I can decide whether it's a good idea.
"Yes. I mean, no not really. It's still Katniss onscreen, she's just… I don't know how to explain it. There's times when it's her. Like when she made a speech for Rue in Eleven. But mostly, she's following a script. Unscripted Katniss is darker. More secretive. More exhausting in a way," he laughs.
"It seems like she only lets you in when it benefits her." As long as we're being honest with each other - and from what Peeta says, it may be the last chance we get to really talk for awhile - then I might as well voice my concerns.
Peeta is quiet, which isn't a good sign. He doesn't have a counter. Yet he still finds a way to defend her. I don't think that girl truly understands just how devoted my son is to her. If she hadn't shown up last night, Peeta would have gone down defending her.
"Katniss," he clears his throat. "Katniss doesn't really understand how to do people. She has this tough exterior that's really hard to break. When she's hurting is the only time that her guard is down and that's when she needs someone to protect her. Because every other time, Katniss can take care of herself. She's done it for years and it's one of the things I - well, I like that about her. I've always lived on bread and off you guys. She's been the head of her family for years. I don't know how she does it."
I process what he's said. "So you still think she loves you?"
"No," he says. "That's too straightforward of a term. She's very good at hiding her emotions, so when she's inhibited, I get to see what she really feels. I don't think she knows what to think about me. Our relationship has always been corrupted by the Games. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have even become friends in the first place."
It's a lot of pretty words, but I'm too tired to decode them. Simply put, I think he means that Katniss needs him in her own primitive way. The fact that he's vetted me as safe enough to confide all this in sends an upsurge of happiness through my chest. I notice that the sky is much lighter now as the sun climbs higher in the sky.
"We should probably head back," I tell Peeta. "I'm already behind on today's haul."
"Do you ever get over loving someone you know you don't stand a chance with?" he asks suddenly.
"I'm really not the person to answer that question, Peeta," I start to say, taken aback by his straightforwardness.
"But you are," my son insists. "You loved Katniss's mother. And you got over her. How?"
Now it's my turn. He wants me to weave a speech full of metaphors and deep, heartfelt meanings. He wants reassurance that things will be okay. I lick my lips, knowing full well that I can't deliver. "Peeta," I begin to say. "My - my case was so much different than yours. Yes, I loved Katniss's mother, but I never felt the way you feel about Katniss."
"How do I feel?" he asks me. "Really, how is it different?"
"You just told me that Katniss needs you."
"I didn't say that necessarily -"
"But it was implied," I tell him gently. His face is red now and it's not just from the cold. I guess he didn't realize how much he let me know. "I never felt that Katniss's mother cared about me in any way. It was a crush, a fantasy that I would nourish in a quiet moment, but nothing more. She loved someone else."
"And Katniss… she's got something with Gale. Everyone knows it. She's been close with him for ages. She - she has a level of trust with him that I won't ever be able to match." A hint of jealousy creeps into his voice.
"Maybe you don't have to. Can you tell me, straight and honest, that Katniss loves Gale Hawthorne?"
"In a way," he says. "But I'm not quite sure how. I don't think she knows herself which is why things get so awkward."
"Then it's not comparable to my childhood infatuation. There was no doubt who Katniss Everdeen's mother loved."
"So," Peeta pauses. "What do I do?"
"Nothing." I shrug. "Keep doing what you've been doing. I mean, you two are getting married, so it's not like she has a chance with Gale anyway."
And I've done it again. Said the perfect thing to ruin the moment. My son's face becomes miserable. "I hate it," he mutters. "I hate that I'm the reason she can't have what she wants."
"Maybe she wants you. Peeta, did Gale stay with her last night? Did he calm her down on the train?"
"No, but that's different." Peeta's eyes shine with concealed pain. "You didn't see her after his whipping. She slept right next to him, their cheeks almost touching. I'm a stand-in, someone to comfort her when he's not there."
I don't know what to say to that because, a little bit, it's what I've been saying all along. But I stop myself from agreeing and try to think about one time that Katniss really needed Peeta. There's only one person who's been positive that Katniss cares for him and he's standing in front of me, doubting his previous words. "You've always told me that she cares for you. Always defended her, wrong or right. I think that goes a long way. All you can do is be open to her, just like you are with me."
"Thanks, but that's a lot easier said than done."
"No one said love was easy."
He nods, yawning suddenly.
"Peeta, go home and get some sleep," I tell him.
"No, that's alright. I'm going to bring some cheese buns over to her place today. I doubt her mother will let her get out of bed."
He walks a little ways ahead of me as we make the trek back to the bakery. It's a lot of information to take in so early in the morning. It's not even ten and I've already been convinced of my son's arrest, then had him show up without sleep but otherwise okay. I've had the same son tell me that my own home, the place where I'm usually safe, is now anything but. I'm not even going to begin to try and sort out our most recent discussion. It's like that little daisy game I used to play.
She loves me, she loves me not. Two petals would float to the ground and join the pile of scattered others. She loves me… another petal. She loves me not. Petal after delicate petal would be removed until all that was left was a gangly, bare stem and a final conclusion, which however childish, decided your viewpoint.
Peeta is playing the game in his mind, trying to decipher Katniss's every move. But whether he's left of on "she loves me" or "she loves me not" I may never know.