Act One

Beginnings

Chapter Three: Father Knows Best

"Lashanie, my dear—that boy he—" A grueling silence slides into her father's sermon as Ludwig carefully ponders his words to persuade Lashanie at best. She perches on the wooden chair across him with a stony mien, the dining table between them as if to depict the divergence currently separating them.

"He means trouble and is bad company for you," Ludwig eventually concludes, zealous to miss the visible refusal radiating from his daughter.

"Your father is absolutely right!" it rings in Lashanie's ear.

Fizzing with exaggerated indignation, Marie laments as her hands—which were fondling Ben's head just a tic ago, ruining his hairdo into a replica of a bird's nest—slam the table, rocking the small clay cup in front of Lashanie so hard, the water inside spills over the lip.

Ludwig rests a reassuring hand on the vibrating woman's shoulder. "Please, Marie—calm down."

An angry pant leaves Marie's lungs, yet she regains her usual composure, straightening her now-as-ever immaculate garments.

They can shout and scold and bend her ear all they want, but Lashanie doesn't take budging into consideration. Her slender arms are crossed tightly over her chest; she doesn't even deign to reason with them but merely stares straight through her family. The moment she and her dad had crossed the threshold, right after taking Varian home, admonishments began to pelt down on her, urging Lashanie to desist from seeing her new friend again in the future. Her mom and dad, her aunt, and—to no surprise—her cousin all were up in arms against Varian. It was ridiculous!

Faced with Lashanie's stubborn will, and mockingly hard hit, Marie places one hand above her heart, turning her contribution into a visual drama.

"Please excuse my lack of self-restraint; I just can't understand why Lashanie would want to devote her time to someone this problematic ." She slightly leans over the table, shaking her head, "He even threatened to hurt your cousin!"

Ben drops his act of the poor victim for a mere second to flash Lashanie a nasty grin, yet it suffices to prompt a wave of infuriation to rush through the girl's body.

She jumps up from her seat, protesting, "Not true! It was Ben who—"

"Lashanie! What's gotten into you!?" Her mother harshly interrupts her attempt to explain the actual occurrences of their meeting nearly immediately, thunderstruck by her daughter's sudden outburst.

Sourly plopping back on her chair, Lashanie falls silent. Why does she even try when it's like they don't ever wanna listen to her? And how come they're so oblivious to how incongruous it seems for Ben to feel earnestly threatened by Varian?! She locks eyes with her father, her gaze almost beseeching. If her mom and Marie can't see it, she'd at least expect her dad to realize something's amiss with Ben's narrative.

And indeed, while Marie keeps crying about Lashanie constantly slandering her cousin when given a chance, a semblance of contemplation crosses Ludwig's features.

He'd be inclined to consider his daughter's version of the events for the truth—a wisp of a boy like Varian getting into a fight with Ben wouldn't strike him as utterly believable if specific incidents etched into his memory wouldn't beg to differ.

Whenever there's been a scuffle between Varian and the Durands' offspring, he's given as good as he got. And albeit Ludwig had found himself feeling sorry for that boy more than once—when those brothers did tan his hide again, and he came to the fields looking for his father, battered as if he'd just escaped a pack of wolves—he also knows all too well about the havoc Varian could work.

It's been no more than a few weeks since the anniversary of Varian's mother's death when the boy flew into a fit of rage. That day, Seymour Durand—the older of the two brothers and quite a brute—made the biggest mistake of his yet so young life: whatever idiocy had driven him then, he came to insult Varian's dead mother . . . and left with a broken nose. Not even to mention the scar Ludwig himself wears as a constant reminder of Varian's impetuosity.

It might not be obvious, and perhaps just slipped his daughter's—in other respects so astute—mind by, but that boy's got a wild temper. Or—and he frets himself about that idea more by far—she did sense it, and it is what draws her towards him precisely . . .

"Am I right, Ludwig?" Marie's long nails digging into his sleeve disrupt Ludwig's train of thought.

He heaves a long sigh, his empathic gaze fixated on Lashanie.

"You know we aren't doing this out of sheer spite, don't you? Varian abounds in mistakes that land him and the people around him in serious trouble. He might get you hurt someday; you understand?" Ludwig insists. Instinctively, his fingers graze the faint scar near his chin.

Her aunt Marie reaches out to caress Lashanie's cheek. "We only mean well for you, my doll."

But the girl ruggedly flinches from that unwanted touch, facing away with a put-on cold air. Lashanie had just won a scrap of freedom for herself after spending years cooped up inside, save for the few lessons at school, some days in the backyard where the low fence represented an impassable border, and the even fewer trips to the capital—now they can't coerce her into succumbing to their demands to forgo even a shiver of that freedom.

"You've become such a willful, ingrate girl," Marie hisses in response.

That whole situation suffocates Lashanie more and more with each second, and her mouth starts forming voiceless words by itself.

While the girl cloisters herself away from her family as much as she can, a pang of conscience shoots through Anne—she can empathize with her daughter's feelings, really. Having everyone admonishing her what to do . . .

"Maybe—maybe we should allow Lashie to have her own experience," she tentatively hazards to oppose her husband and sister.

Ludwig sharply sucks in a breath.

"Are you serious? You want her to get hurt?" he inquires, discernibly quelling his uprising anger. "Have you forgotten what happened during last year's harvest when that boy showed up with one of his crazy inventions?!"

One of Anne's soft hands cups Ludwig's face tenderly, her thumb gently running over the scar on his jawline. "I have not. But I also haven't forgotten Varian genuinely apologized for that small accident."

Ludwig's voice sways between disbelief and anger when he counters, "Small accident?! Anne, if that boy had listened to his father from the start, it wouldn't have come to this. He ignores rules and orders at will constantly—he's a danger to himself and others!"

With a skeptical smile, Anne ventures, "You said it—he's a boy. Just a boy who still has to learn a lot. And you know as much as I do, he only means well."

A spark of hope ignites inside Lashanie's chest. Usually, her mom sits idly through such conversations as though she was a mere decorative element with nill intention of sharing her opinion on the issue discussed. But if she speaks up for Lashanie, her dad might change his mind . . . or at least grant her to disagree to his terms.

Before Ludwig's given a chance to reply, and just when Lashanie's about to perk up, Marie meddles, fervently trampling out the lapping flames inside her niece before they can grow into a fire.

"You can't be serious, Anne! That boy harassed Ben today, and you still suggest Lashanie should be allowed to spend time with him?"

Anne slightly ducks her head at the dismay in Marie's voice. She asks well-nigh ruefully, "But—but I thought you'd told his father about the incident already? Quirin will discipline him; that should be enough, no?"

"It is not enough!" Marie rebukes as if talking to a child. "Remember what people whisper behind your back—they're already casting aspersions on you; you want the same for your daughter?! You want to cut the boy some slack and, in return, have Lashanie's reputation sullied irreversibly?"

"I—I haven't considered this . . ." Anne admits. "I'm sorry; you are right, Marie."

Lashanie sighs. Sad but true, this outcome doesn't really surprise her; it was foolish to buy into the idea of her mom opposing Marie and holding that ground when faced with even the slightest fightback. Her eyes wander over to her father, peering furtively. Perhaps she should know better, yet Lashanie's still adamant about clinging on to a scarce remain of hope, despite sensing how futile it is.

"Marie is right . It's unbecoming for you to surround yourself with Varian. I want you to stay away from him, understand?" Ludwig seals his daughter's fate.

He will go to any lengths to ensure that Lashanie strives for a bright future indubitably predestined for her, and he can't risk letting Varian dampen that light she gives off; he just can't.

Lashanie raises her chin, looking squarely into her father's eyes in a last obstinate attempt to outmaneuver her family.

"You told me everyone deserves a second chance and that we should help those who want to change but can't do it all alone. You didn't say only to help certain people, but all. And if you exclude Varian just because you don't like him, then you've lied to me," she speaks candidly, giving her all to hide the shaking in her voice.

Ludwig cuts the air with his hand haranguing, "Knock it off! This is not up for debate—you will do as I say, Lashanie. I'm not asking you to stay away from that boy; I insist on it!"

A feeble voice in Lashanie's mind tries to prevail upon her to object, and she can hardly silence it. However, the look in her father's eyes makes it abundantly clear he will brook no dissent on that matter—not tonight. For now, she will feign to comply with his orders.

She lowers her head and nods faintly. "I have understood."

A semblance of pity reflects in Ludwig's eyes. He forces a smile. "I'm sorry, Lashie, but this is for your own good. It would need a wonder to change that boy's ways. And now off to bed with you—Andiamo."

Resting his hand on her delicate shoulder, Ludwig leads his daughter to her room. When he wishes her goodnight, she remains silent, wordlessly watching the door click shut.

While the night blankets her village, Lashanie's lying wide awake, concocting a plan to conquer the new obstacle in her path. Her dad was right—it needs a wonder, but it's not Varian who has to change; it's her family. And she can do that; she can be the wonder that will change their point of view. It won't be easy, that's for sure, but she still has to try. She will change her family's ways.

Tomorrow, she will see Varian. She will fight for the freedom to make her own decisions.

Upon arrival at that satisfying resolve, Lashanie's lips twitch upward as she drifts into a peaceful slumber.