The Girl in the River

Chapter 11

A day or two later, Brooks came walking down the street towards their cottage in the morning. The day hadn't completely brightened yet and there was a slight mist hanging in the air from rain the night before. Sage and her mother were in the garden already.

"Hello," he sat down on the stone wall and let his legs dangle into the lower space.

"Good morning, Brooks. Are you on the way to the woods?"

Sage peeked over her shoulder from where she squatted by the beans. He was looking at her so she turned back quickly.

"No, actually, there's a merchant here today at the centre and my mom asked me to come see if Sage can help her pick out some fabric. She's planning to make you a new outfit as a wedding present."

"How nice!" her mother put in.

"Can you spare an hour or so?"

Her mother didn't answer for her this time. Sage looked back again, her chin below her shoulder. The thought of picking out a gift for herself was stressful, but it was a summons from his mother. She was too much in the habit of listening to her to hold back now, and she was done with the beans for today anyway. She stood up.

"Take your time, okay?" her mother smiled.

The merchant who had come was a prosperous one; he had more than one wagon of wares being unloaded and laid out on blankets. Fabrics, seasonings that did not grow locally, and bronze craftsmanship were all being unearthed from storage materials. Sage even noticed with disdain that there was some pottery as well, the kind her father made.

She and Brooks kept back to stay out of the way and watched. It was early enough still that hardly anyone else was there, though in an hour or two the whole centre would be bustling with an unexpected market day. Sage was grateful Brooks had brought her so quickly; they would avoid the attention.

"He came last night and woke us all up." Brooks said to her. "That's the drawback of living in the Chief's household, you get bothered every time a stranger comes into town. We get first dibs too, though. He showed my mom all his best jewellery last night already."

She glanced over at the Chief's wife, wondering if she had bought any. It struck her suddenly that someday she would be the Chief's wife, who would have to welcome travellers at the dead of night. That was a long way off yet, thankfully. She hoped she'd be an entirely different person by then.

"Let's look at those." Brooks gently tugged at a fold of her skirt to get her attention. They walked to a large blanket covered in bronze.

There were items of every kind, anklets like hers and other accessories, cooking pots, spearheads, knives. Even some completely impractical little statuettes that probably cost as much as a cow. Everything shining and new and beautiful. They stood quietly for a while and then Brooks turned to her.

"What would you pick, if you could have anything here?" he asked her.

Sage smiled. She liked this game. Surveying everything again, she considered. Her mother would love a new cooking pot, the one they had was too small, and her father would likely choose some of the interesting tools they had for his pottery, or perhaps even jewellery. She'd always suspected her father would've been a flashy dresser if he'd had the means. What would she choose for herself though, if she didn't spare a thought for practicality?

"There." she said, pointing. "That cuff."

It was a hair accessory, two curving pieces of bronze hinged together and meant to be closed around the end of a braid. Sage had often heard women complain about the inconvenience of cuffs like these; they basically turned hair into a weapon and were known to swing around and smack the wearer or bystanders in the face, but she didn't care. She'd always wanted one, and this one was especially pretty in her eyes. It was longer than usual, about half the length of her hand, and etched with shining, uniform scratches that evoked a leaf or a feather. This was the kind of small possession that girls with more comfortable lives would wear every day, for no reason at all.

"I heard that those things can get annoying." Brooks observed "Are you sure that's what you like?"

She nodded.

"What about you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm not looking for anything today."

"You don't want to play the game?" she turned to look at him, confused.

He hesitated a moment, and then answered unenthusiastically.

"I guess I'd get another spearhead. I have a spare already, but that thin one looks really well made so I'd probably get that."

Just then his mother called to Sage from the wagon that held all the fabric and she trotted over to look at them with her. She found pretty quickly that the clothes her new mother-in-law intended to make for her would be exorbitantly expensive. She had her look at both leather and stiff woven cloth for the vest so it would be reversible, fixed on blue (a more difficult colour to dye well) for the skirt, and steered her firmly towards the softest, finest material for the shift and drawers. She would not even hear Sage's protests that she didn't need to include the base clothing as well, that the skirt and the vest were already more than generous.

She was in turmoil by the time decisions had been made, fabric had actually been cut and paid for, and Sage was dismissed. The fat little purse she'd seen change hands still burned in her vision. How her family worked for their money! How their hands and backs and feet ached at the end of each day, just from the effort of trying to make it to the next so they could do it again. The amount that had just been spent on her could have fed them for half the winter at least.

She made her way back to where Brooks was waiting for her and felt the momentary urge to simply press her forehead against the outermost edge of his shoulder. She didn't of course, she just stood next to him and felt terrible - and a little surprised at herself.

"Ready to go back?" he asked her, and she nodded.

When they'd reached her gate again he stopped while still on the street. Her mother was inside the cottage now and they were more or less alone.

"Here," he said, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it out to her.

Sage looked at his outstretched hand, dumbfounded. He had bought her the cuff. She raised her eyes to his face slowly, too overwhelmed to be bashful.

"I thought we were just pretending."

"We were, mostly, but you picked something so simple. It barely cost anything."

Sage honestly felt like she might cry. He thought it was simple?

"You didn't need to buy me anything. Honestly - it's not like I can return the favour."

He stepped closer to her. Reaching behind her neck, he carefully wrapped his fingers around her braid and pulled it over her shoulder towards him. She dropped her eyes with an intake of breath when his hand brushed against her. Tingles spread across her scalp from the slight movement of her hair. She held very still and watched his hands twist and fold the wispy end of her braid and fix the cuff over it. Its internal teeth sunk into the hair and the clasp shut with a click.

"I just wanted to, that's all." he told her. "I'd just like to see you wearing it. Are you upset?"

Sage's face had flamed red. Unable to speak or breathe properly, she stepped away from him and through the gate behind her. She'd almost rushed all the way down the steps and into the house before she caught herself, made her head turn back slightly, and forced a "Thank you" out of her mouth. Then she dipped down the rest of the way into the half light inside.

*

Honestly, it's barely gonna get spicier than this. I hope you like that hand flex scene from P&P.
-Laura