The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 22:

Sisters

After dinner, Moth climbed into Priscilla’s cart – though she was very pregnant, she hefted herself into the seat and flicked the reins to urge the old mare on.

It was cold and still without even a breeze to stir up sound, and a far-off sliver of moon drifting through a cloudless night was able to light the road ahead. Deep away in the fields was the occasional flit of light from a distant farmhouse.

Under the unending night sky, drenched with stars, spilling over with constellations, Moth felt small.

In Magden, pinned under the shadow of buildings that blocked the sky, Moth had felt important but alone and unknown.

The countryside was different. She was deeply known by everyone – they could pick out features on her face that had belonged to her grandmother, her great grandfather, they knew her family from generations back, she was known like history in Hiren; how her ancestors had broken the ground for farming, how a nearby bridge, older than half the country, had been built by a Hevwed.

But she was so unimportant, and it weighed on her.

She was just a name in a long line of Hevwed’s, she was just a farmer in the mass of Hiren. She was just a handful of years under an unmoving, unaltering, sky.

“Mere?”

Moth pressed her mouth together and looked at Priscilla, who was watching her intently. Forcing a smile, Moth said, “Yes?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, well…I’m just glad to be in Hiren again.”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine, Mere, but don’t lie about it.”

Bristling, Moth said, “I’m not lying! I love Hiren, I’m glad I’m home.”

Priscilla scoffed.

“You’re always like this,” Moth muttered, getting hot.

Priscilla got a very patient, holy look on her face and said in a calm voice, “I was only asking a question, Mere.”

Moth snapped, “Fine, you want to know? Nothing I’m doing matters and I feel helpless.”

“Now, Mere–”

“Don’t say that it’s not true,” said Moth, lifting her chin. “I feel like I don’t have anything right now, and it’s not a good feeling. You don’t know what it’s like, Pris, to not be able to help people I love in the…in the way I want to.”

Priscilla opened her mouth, but closed it against and stared ahead at the road. After a moment she said, “You don’t have nothing. You do have us.”

The words spilled out before she thought them through; “It’s not enough for me.”

She regretted saying it when she saw Priscilla’s expression, but she didn’t want to take it back – it had been so hard to say, because she had not even dared to look at that homely emotion sitting in the front of her heart, she had not had the courage to look at it in the eyes and name it until then.

“I love you,” said Moth, and Priscilla looked away. “I love my family but it’s not enough. Pris I wanted to do something important, something helpful, I wanted to keep Hiren together in my own way, and I guess I felt I was doing that in Magden.

But life has gone so different than what I wanted and now I feel like I’m drifting off somewhere and I can’t find my way or who I am. It scares me.”

Pris glared at Moth, but after a moment her expression softened and she laughed and said, “You’ve changed, Mere. I’ve never heard you talk so much about what you want.”

Moth cleared her throat and tried to hide her embarrassment.

Priscilla reached out her hand. Moth took it and her older sister squeezed her fingers. “Alright, then,” said Priscilla. “I guess we need to find you something worth doing. There’s a lot of tedious work needs to be done in Hiren that nobody wants to do, I know Opal will tell you all about it. The ferryman may be sick right now, so we’ll do what we can while he’s away.”

Moth gawked at Priscilla. She had never heard her talk about the ferryman before; usually she seemed annoyed anytime Clem talked about him too much. “Since when have you cared about the ferryman?”

“What do you mean?” Priscilla sniffed. “I’ve always been very respectful of our ferryman. Oh look, there’s Ama.”

Moth snapped her attention forward.

They were driving up on the Tunhofe property, pulling up towards the front porch of the wide, squat stone house where Priscilla lived. Ama stood on the porch, under a lantern lit for them, and jumped up when she saw the cart rattling closer.

“Camb’s been staying up for you,” said Ama. “I can put away the horse–”

Ama locked eyes on Moth and froze.

Moth grinned and jumped up. “Ama!”

Ama turned on her heel and ran into the house.

“Why is she like this?” said Priscilla, heaving herself out of the cart and toddling into the house with a groan as Moth trailed behind her.

Inside, there was a fire burning low and Camb was half asleep in front of it, leaning against Rodin’s leg. Rodin took Priscilla’s hand and helped her ease into the couch, kissing her softly, and saying, “The ride didn’t kick you into labor?”

“Oh, that would’ve been lovely.” Priscilla leaned against him with a sour expression. “This baby needs to shift.”

Camb crawled onto the seat next to Priscilla and curled up next to her, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Reaching out his long, lanky arm, Rodin shook Moth’s hand in greeting and said, “Ama ran upstairs. If you’re staying the night, you’re going to be sharing the room she’s in.”

“Alright, then I’ll see you in the morning.” Moth waved to them and went upstairs to the squat attic guest room.

Ama sat on a bed. She flushed when she saw Moth and stood up, glancing at the window that hung open, her eyes scrunched in thought.

Moth hurried to block the window and said, “Don’t you dare! You can’t run from me forever.”

“I am not running,” Ama snapped, raising herself up with dignity. “I’m mad at you, leave me alone.”

Grabbing her arm, Moth said sweetly, “I missed you, Ama. You’re so tall! I barely come up to your shoulder.”

Ama glowered at the wall, and weakly shook her arm.

Leaning her head on Ama’s shoulder, Moth said, “When I was in the city I thought about you all the time. Sometimes I had dreams about you, I would see you in a field with your bow, shooting rabbits. If I sent you a letter every time I thought about you and missed you, I could wallpaper this room.”

“Stop being so stupid, I hate it when you do this!” Ama said, tugging aggressively against Moth, but Moth held on tighter.

“I wish you could’ve come with me. I realized when I left, you’re more than my sister, you’re my friend, and I feel braver when you’re around.”

Ama glowered and ground her teeth as tears seeped from her eyes. “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry I left you here alone,” said Moth. “I know you weren’t alone, but I know the reason you’re so mad at me is because you missed me so much.”

Ama’s voice cracked. “I could have taken care of you.”

“I didn’t have to leave, but I wanted to. I know that more clearly, now – I wanted to go off and do something. I could have stayed here and you could’ve taken care of me, and you wouldn’t have complained or resented me, you would’ve loved me very well, but I wanted to go.”

Ama began to cry, with an ugly expression as she fought against it. “Why would you want to go?” she managed, in half broken hiccups.

Moth hugged her with a grin, “Because I like to help. Its not because I don’t love you.”

“Okay,” said Ama, though with her tear-swollen face Moth could barely understand her words. “It didn’t really bother me,” she added, wiping snot from her nose. She was quiet for a minute, composing herself, and asked in a shaky voice, “You want to see how far I can shoot my arrows, now?”

“I would love to,” exclaimed Moth, taking her hand. “In the dark?”

“I’m very good.”

Moth spent the next hour watching Ama shoot arrows into the side of a tree, with the first frogs of spring, unseen in the distant ponds, singing in the night.