Page 42 of Bluebell’s Fate

Bell looked around the room with a sheen of tears over her eyes. “That is somewhere to begin, isn’t it?” Her voice cracked the smallest amount.

Nathaniel was certain that her emotions were the positive sort, so he sat and watched Bell as her mind traveled. He had no doubt that she could visualize changes in this room that he could never imagine. If they had all day, they could just sit here companionably, each of them consumed in their own thoughts—hers of creating a wild space in their cottage, and his of the woman before him he was only beginning to understand. The problem was, their time was limited.

As unwilling as Nathaniel was to end the moment, he felt the press of time keenly. “While we think of ideas, should we proceed to make the room ready for your godmother?”

Bell stood abruptly and smoothed her hands down her dress. “Yes, we can continue to think of solutions.” She bustled out the door without another glance back at him.

Nathaniel’s heart dropped to his boots. The feeling gave him pause. How could he feel so despondent just because Bell left the room? Yes, he’d chosen to take care of her, but he’d not made a conscious choice to care for her. Yet, that was exactly what was happening. He was becoming emotionally attached to his wife. It was terrifying.

He couldn’t rely on emotions; they tended to change quickly, and without reason. Right now, he felt hope in their partnership, but tomorrow could bring pain and anguish.

That’s how things had always been with Edwin. When they were young, they would play as best friends one day, and the next day Edwin would tell him he was annoying and stupid. Edwin had learned how to wield emotions like swords, toying with them to get people to behave as he wished. And Nathaniel had been his brother’s favorite toy.

Nathaniel recalled the day he resolved never to be like his brother. He’d been eight and Edwin ten.

Nathaniel was playing with Mary, a neighbor, down at the stream. Mary threw a stick into the water at the same time Nathaniel threw his stick. They ran alongside the slippery edge, watching the sticks and urging them forward.

Mary was slower than Nathaniel, but she was his favorite playmate.

“Go on, go on, little stick, follow the song to make you quick,” she sang.

There were two things that Nathaniel just couldn’t understand about Mary. One was her tendency to make up rhymes. The other was her insistence that these little “songs” controlled nature.

“You know it’s not the song your stick ought to follow, Mary. It’s the current that you need to be telling the stick to find. That is what will take your stick faster.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Prove it.”

Nathaniel removed his shoes and stockings and took a step into the cold water. He stuck his hand into a shallow pool. “See here, the water isn’t moving hardly at all, but here,” he pointed to the current pushing past the smooth stones that lay along the bottom, “the water moves faster. Whatever stick is in the fastest moving water will move the fastest.”

“Yes, unless the song helps it.” Mary raised her eyebrows high on her head as if he’d not understood her absurd statement the first time. “Besides, my stick won. It followed the song.”

“It was thrown into a better current,” Nathaniel muttered to himself as he picked his way back to dry ground.

Edwin stepped out from behind a copse of trees. “Don’t mind him, Mary; he doesn’t understand the power of your songs.”

Nathaniel froze, feet still in the water, and watched Mary’s face. She looked up at Edwin and blushed. Even from a young age, Edwin enjoyed toying with girls, flattering them and making them laugh. “That’s okay, there are lots of people who don’t understand it.”

Edwin edged closer to Mary. “But you…you are special. You can make things happen with songs—you can feel how to use them.”

Mary looked up at Edwin like he was a prince in shining armor, her eyes as big as saucers.

“With a gift like yours, you’d do best to avoid people like my brother. The music would eventually go away if you keep listening to him.”

Mary looked over at Nathaniel, and then quickly dropped her gaze. “But Nathaniel is nice to me.”

“Is he? Or does he question you? Does he disagree with your ideas?”

Nathaniel splashed out of the stream and sat on the ground to put his shoes back on. “Just because two people aren’t the same doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.”

Edwin laughed. “Is that what he’s told you, Mary? That you’re friends?” He put a hand on her shoulder and bent down to look her in the eyes. “Friends don’t make fun of each other when they go home. I’ve heard him laughing about your songs. He only spends time with you for his own entertainment.”

Mary’s chin started to quiver.

“He’s lying, Mary. He’s just jealous that you don’t come over to play with him,” Nathaniel insisted. His anger at Edwin coupled with his worry for Mary made him clench his hands into fists at his side.

Mary tried and failed to smile at Nathaniel before she said she had to go home.

Nathaniel was shaking so much, he struggled tying the laces to his shoes. “Why did you lie to her?”