I hesitated to take the shirt as I couldn’t remember how I’d asked for it. Unsure if it really belonged to me now or not, I folded it neatly and set it on the broken table with a look of regret.
When I walked into the cottage looking disheveled, Bryn only spared me a censuring glance; and I knew I’d arrived in an untidy state too often in recent days. She washed dishes in a small tub on a plank counter near the stove. The table was empty and only the lingering hint of cooked food perfumed the air.
“Go borrow one of Father’s shirts. You’ll need to wash your dress before you can wear it anywhere. Father wants us looking presentable tonight. We’re to dine with the Kinlyn family.” Her flat tone told me what she thought of the idea, so I didn’t ask any questions about why we were going. At least I would get to eat.
Father’s bedroom door stood open, the trunk for his clothes at the foot of his bed clearly visible. Feeling intrusive, I knelt before the trunk and tipped the lid back. I hadn’t ever looked in Father’s trunk, as I never did the laundry. Bryn washed everything, folded it, and tucked it neatly away.
Inside the trunk, two distinct piles of clothes defined my father’s sad wardrobe. On the right, his two neatly folded white shirts and spare pair of trousers waited for their next use. The left pile doubled what the right had to offer with the addition of two neckcloths, worn and frayed, lying on top. Everything in the left pile had been patched or mended in some way. Loose threads dangled from frayed sleeve cuffs and patches adorned knees.
Carefully moving aside the neckcloths, I took the top shirt from the mended pile and shook it out. It would service for wearing on my treks in the woods and for around the cottage. I placed the neckcloths neatly back into the trunk and closed the lid.
In my room, I glanced once at Blye’s trunk of cloth and pushed back my resentment. I knew she mended his clothes and did a good job of it too, but she could easily make Father a new shirt. Was it fair to resent her when I’d ignored my own opportunity to help Father? After all, I’d slept in a very fine shirt Father could have used. Granted, it would have been a bit large, but Blye could make a shirt smaller. She’d proven that already.
Dressed in my familiar trousers and a borrowed, threadbare shirt, I bunched up my dress and took it outside where Bryn usually did the washing in good weather. Then, I began the long process of hauling water and soaping, scrubbing, twisting, and rinsing the dress. The process had to be repeated several times until the cloth began to look blue again. Giving it a final wring, I tossed it over a line Bryn had tied outside and wiped my hands on my pants.
My stomach growled, and I eyed the sky. Inside, the cottage remained quiet, and I wondered where Blye had gone. Wrinkling my nose at the thought of going inside, I set off walking east away from the village and the estate to see what the woods might offer me to eat. Though my intentions to stay away from the estate were pure, my mind kept going back to the shirt and the cheese; and soon, my feet were taking me north.
First, I checked the ground by the tumbled rock and found peas growing so thick that the plants twined together into a solid blanket. I stopped to pick a few, nibbling them to take the edge off my hunger, then stuffed a handful into each pocket, regretting my lack of a bag.
Continuing on, I walked the perimeter of the wall until I reached the gate, which swung open in a slow, loud arc to announce my presence. Assuming nothing, I stayed standing outside of the estate and looked over my shoulder, eyeing the peaceful trees behind me. Shadows claimed those nearest the estate, but in the distance I could make out some sun dappled branches.
Swallowing hard and hoping no one stood near enough to hear, I looked back into the shadowy estate and called out, “Are you there?”
Silence answered me.
“The shirt...I left it because I wasn’t sure if you meant for me to keep it or not. If you did...” Nothing inside the estate stirred. My stomach growled, and I reached into my pocket for another peapod. I chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the crisp sweetness while wondering if he waited somewhere inside, listening to me.
After several long moments, I gave up and turned back the way I’d come. I harvested more peas and carried home what I’d picked in the loose ends of my shirt.
Leaving all but a handful of my harvest on the kitchen table for Bryn to do with as she would, I secluded myself in Father’s study, picking a book at random to entertain myself until dinner. Occasionally, Bryn or Blye’s quiet voices would break through my concentration, but never long enough to listen to what they said.
Father arrived home and, with a twinkle in his eyes, complimented me on my new shirt. I met his smile with a grin of my own as I replaced the book I’d just finished and went to check on my dress. The damp air hadn’t helped the cloth dry through, so I was forced to wear a slightly soggy dress to the Kinlyn’s.