“Mother!” Mahrree exclaimed and tried to calm down by taking a deep breath. She chose not to correct the rank mistake again and looked at her mother with her kindest face. “I came to visit you tonight because I wanted to be comforted. And I wanted to, to, oh I don’t know anymore . . . What’s so wrong about being smart? That’s what Father wanted.”
“And he was much better at listening to you than I ever was.” Her mother sighed. “You have a question about what to put on the table for a formal dinner, I’m your woman,” she said with a happy smile that dimmed. “But you have a question about why something is right or wrong, you needed to talk to your father. He kept me balanced.”
Mahrree had often wondered why her parents got together. Then she remembered her father loved all kinds of foods. And he really did seem to adore her, her silliness and everything.
Mahrree took her chair again and the women sat in silence.
Eventually her mother spoke. “You would do well with a man to help you keep your balance. Yes, I know—you’re very balanced. But a good man will help you improve the balance. I miss Cephas’s knowledge, his always wanting to do right. Sometimes when I hear you speak it’s like I’m hearing him. Maybe that’s why I don’t go to the debates too often.”
And she had adored him, Mahrree thought. He could explain anything to her, and she absorbed it all. Mahrree seemed only to sloppily splash words against her mother. Of course she would miss him when she listened to her debate . . .
Mrs. Peto sighed. “Ah, that’s not the reason I didn’t go. I’d just rather look at cloth with my friends! I am sorry,” she admitted with an apologetic grin.
Mahrree chuckled. Hycymum sometimes acted as if her head was full of bubbles, but at least they were honest bubbles.
“I’m sorry, Mahrree,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to marry you off tonight. I just worry. I wasn’t lonely for the sixteen years I had your father. I hate to think of you lonely for your whole life.”
“As long as I have my students and you, Mother, I’ll never be lonely!” Mahrree declared. But tonight, those words and her life suddenly seemed empty.
---
Several roads away the old rector and his wife wearily entered their back door after a long evening of visits. Mrs. Densal lit a candle on their eating table, and her husband gasped.
The flickering light revealed a large figure in dark clothing filling the doorway between the kitchen and gathering room. Mrs. Densal whimpered.
“It’s unsafe to leave your doors unlocked now that Guarder activity has increased.”
Hogal Densal released a large breath and shook his head. “Perrin Shin! Have you ever heard of knocking and waiting for a response?” He shook his head and chuckled nervously, then pulled out a chair and gestured for the captain to join him at the table.
“Truly, Perrin! Frightening an old woman like this!” Mrs. Densal scolded with a broad smile as the captain sat down. She turned to a cabinet, took out a plate with a large piece of berry pie, and placed it in front of him.
The captain started to shake his head, thought twice about it, and accepted the fork she offered.
“Thank you,” he remembered to say before adding, “but I’m not here for your pie. I’m here for an explanation.” He took a bite and stared accusatorily at the old man while he chewed.
The rector’s wife pulled out a chair to sit across from her husband who was practicing his best ‘What have I done?’ look.
“An explanation about what, my boy?” Rector Densal sounded genuinely unsure.
Perrin swallowed. “About tonight! About . . . umm,” he waved his fork.
“Miss Mahrree Peto?”
Perrin took another bite. “Yes,” he mumbled, pointing his fork at the rector. “Some old school teacher! That’s what you said, Hogal. ‘The old school teacher.’”
Mrs. Densal looked down and tried to hide a smile.
Hogal put on a thoughtful expression. “Well, now, many of the younger children think of her as old. Perhaps that’s what I meant—”
“I know what you’re doing,” Perrin said, shifting his gaze between the two of them. “And I’m not here to get married. I’m here to command the new fort. And to eat your pie. Delicious, as always.” He smiled at Mrs. Densal.
She beamed, adding more creases around her ever-twinkling eyes.
“My boy, no one said anything about marriage. Dear, did you say anything about marriage?” Hogal asked his wife.
“Just so you both understand: I’m not the marrying type.”
“Ah, Perrin,” said Mrs. Densal, patting his hand. “Everyone is the marrying type. They just don’t know it until they find their type!”