The Forest at the Edge of the World(11)

Someone even made the long journey to Pools, nearly seventy miles away, to bring the good teacher “healing waters” to cleanse him. Cephas Peto told his daughter he didn’t know how water that smelled like rotten eggs could be healing, and that he was sure people in Pools and Idumea got sick just as often as people in Edge.

The healing waters, the prayers of their congregation, and the dishes of min-a-stroh-nee and fall-ah-fal his wife created didn’t work, so on the 89th Day of Harvest Cephas beckoned to his daughter.

“Remember,” he whispered to avoid another coughing fit, “my beloved daughter—sometimes, the world really is out to get you!”

Mahrree had laughed in spite of her sorrow. She expected something more sentimental and profound than his usual teasing. Her mother just shook her head and dabbed her eyes. She never understood the cutting sense of humor her husband and daughter shared.

Mahrree had gripped her father’s hand and whispered, “So you’re going to let it get you?” That’s when her tears started.

“And remember, every story has a happy ending, if you just wait long enough.” Then he told Mahrree his extensive collection of books was hers.

Half an hour later he was gone.

Thirteen years later Mahrree still felt the sadness of his passing, but her sorrow was tempered because she still heard him. Not just words he said before he passed, but words he said after.

She never told anyone because she feared no one would understand, but Cephas Peto still spoke to her and gave her advice. And as she strolled through the neighborhoods of Edge, waving to her neighbors who were also heading to the amphitheater, she felt he was walking nearby, still watching out for her.

“The world is out to get me, Father?” She smiled as she breathed in the early Planting Season weather. “Doesn’t quite sound like a happy ending just yet. But send on the world! After such a dreary Raining Season, I’m ready for some excitement.”

Such evenings in Edge of the World were rarely dull, despite what visitors from Idumea might argue. Mahrree would challenge any of them to prove it. And she half hoped that would be the topic of debate tonight: the dullness of a little village like Edge versus the excitement of Idumea.

She sucked in the surprisingly warm air and thought she could smell the deep brown dirt of the farms that ringed their village, just two roads of houses away from her home. White clouds streaked across the blue sky, and Mahrree predicted they would turn orange-pink with the sunset. The two moons, the Greater as well as the Little Sister which trailed the brighter moon, showed only half of themselves evening.

She was glad she had changed into her lighter tan cotton skirt instead of wearing the heavier woolen black one. She tucked her light brown shoulder-length hair behind her ears. Unlike most of the women in the village, she didn’t wear her hair long only to tie it all up into a bun. Shorter hair was much more practical. And her father had said it looked better that way. But otherwise her features were nothing extraordinary, she thought. Symmetrical, feminine—she never was very good at judging beauty, nor did she see the purpose of it. Her grayish-green eyes were like her mother’s, which her father loved, and her build and frame were as slight as her father’s, which Mahrree loved.

It was the 6th Day of the brand new year, and all was coming alive again and growing. Even the air seemed green. Planting Season was her favorite because her students were frequently needed to help their parents in the fields every few weeks—early, middle, and late in the season—affording Mahrree a few weeks’ respite to sit and study. She chose to become a village teacher of all subjects and ages, just like her father, although her mother frequently told her he would have been pleased if she became a wife, too. If it weren’t for evenings like this that forced her outside, she would probably keep studying and forget to notice the greening of the world.

She passed several roads of houses and walked along the cobblestones past the quieting market towards the amphitheater. Some shops were still opened and the last of the purchases were being made. But soon those shopkeepers would find their way to the village’s green fields, too.

As Mahrree reached the first common field that marked the center of Edge, she began to count the activities. In the large fields surrounding the amphitheater, with new grasses trimmed by roaming sheep, three groups of little children were already running races and playing Get Him! Older children enjoyed Smash the Wicket, Kickball, and Tie up Your Uncle, which sounded more violent than it was unless someone’s real uncle participated.

Tonight a large group of older children had already decided on the game, but were arguing over who would be tonight’s Wicket. Mahrree smiled as she passed that group. Two of the loudest children were her former morning students, and neither would be quick to concede.