Chapter Three
"Where is she?"
Rebecca jumped when her father's booming voice filled the air. Lauren and Madelaine both looked up from the net they were mending.
Rebecca gathered her composure and calmly continued sewing the wool skirt she was finishing in the corner. Heavy booted footsteps could be heard coming up the hard path to the cottage.
The door slammed open, and the gentle Madelaine cringed. Rebecca did not look up as their father went to stand in front of her. She merely glanced at the tips of his boots, and then transferred her gaze back to what her hands were doing. She wouldn't look up to let him see the fear in her eyes.
"What is this?" he bellowed. She looked up to see the book he held in his hand. When she did not answer he thrust it in her face. "Rebecca? What is this?" he asked again through gritted teeth.
She glanced at her sisters, who were bent over their net, studiously intent on their task. She looked back at the red-faced bearded man in front of her. He was clenching the book so tightly in his beefy hand that his fists were turning white.
"A book," she finally murmured.
He threw the offending object down. Rebecca jumped. "Don't you want to know where I got it?" her father growled. She remained silent.
"From Peter Heldsburg," he answered in a dangerous tone. "The boy from the next family down."
Lauren's head snapped up at that.
"I met with him and Lewis today," their father went on,"and Peter handed this to me and said, 'Would you give this to Rebecca? I promised to lend it to her after she returned the last one!"
Rebecca's lips started to tremble.
"Who taught you to read?" he shouted. The veins in his neck bulged.
When she again didn't answer he slapped her. She fell off her small stool. "Well?" he demanded. She curled into herself on the ground.
The man then turned to Lauren and Madelaine. "Did everyone know but me?" His eyes were wide and demanding.
Just then their mother ran in. She took one look around the room. Lauren and Madelaine were cowering at the table and Rebecca was still on the floor with her outraged father towering over her.
"John," she said, setting down her basket of vegetables to lay a hand on his tense arm.
He shook it off. "Did you know about this?" He wildly pointed at the dejected book on the floor.
His wife bravely faced him. "Yes, I did."
He viciously kicked her basket. She blinked but went on, "We didn't tell you because we were afraid of exactly this happening."
Her husband stared at her. "And who taught her?" he ground out.
"She took weekly trips to the village to learn with the rest of the children whose parents allowed them."
"But I didn't allow her!" he bellowed. "Have you no brain, woman? We had enough trouble keeping her head out of the clouds! Then you went behind my back and allowed this," he gestured jerkily to the book again, "to happen! You've only encouraged her!"
Rebecca's mother visibly swallowed, her face pale and her eyes huge in her face. Rebecca knew it was rare for her timid mother to be so forward with her husband in such a state.
"I'm sorry John," their mother murmured.
He roughly brushed past her and stormed out of the cottage. There was an instant of heavy silence. Then Madelaine started crying.
Lauren hushed her. "We must finish this net," she said sternly.
Rebecca uncurled from the cold dirt floor and stood shakily.
"Rebecca--" her mother moved toward her.
"Thank you," Rebecca said and fled before she could say anything more.
She ran down the rocky path towards her haven. It was then that she let the tears flow. A sob escaped her. Her tears so blinded her she stepped on her hem and fell on her knees, scraping them and tearing her skirt.
She stumbled back to her feet, the comforting sound of the tide calling to her. She descended the rest of the way until the sand moved beneath her shoes. Wanting the warmth of the sun-touched grains, she cast them off.
Rebecca plodded on the shore, relishing the feel of the cool waves flowing over her feet. She dried her tears and listened to the sound of the gulls overhead.
After a time of walking she plopped down, rubbing her sore cheek. The wind whipped her dark curls about, and she allowed herself the luxury of a sigh.
The waves lulled her to lay on her back and close her eyes. She focused on hearing. On hearing everything around her. The sea. The gulls. The wind blowing past her ears. The song...
She opened her eyes. The song? Yes... a faint humming in the breeze. Rebecca knew she'd heard it before. It seemed so familiar. She laid back down with her hands behind her head, her brow creased in thought. The song still weaved teasingly around her.
Eight years ago...
"My true love was a sailor,
he sailed the seven seas.
When he came ashore,
he would run to me."
As soon as she finished winging it the faint sound ceased. She sat up once more and looked about her. All was as it had been. Bright and alive and known.
She looked out to the sea. She started. There was a seal floating in the water. It stared at her, its round dark eyes pools of mystery.
Rebecca smiled at it. She remembered seeing a seal similar to this one as a small child. Perhaps this was the same seal?
Rebecca laughed at herself. No. Of course not.
She tilted her head. "What is your name?" She asked it. It blinked. She almost giggled.
"Rebecca!"
She whirled. Lauren was looking for her already? Rebeccas turned and gasped when she saw how far the sun had gone down without her even realizing. Her father would be furious again.
She hurriedly stood and brushed off her skirt. When she looked back at the water, the creature was gone.
* * * * *
"Be sure you're back as soon as you're done. No dawdling," Rebecca's mother ordered as she handed her daughter a few coins. The girl nodded.
"And don't stop to talk to Mr. Donally," the older woman added, referring to the man who'd taught Rebeccas how to read. Rebeccas nodded again, her dark eyes not betraying her disappointment.
Her mother looked at her a moment, and sighed. "Dear," she said softly, "I'm sorry about the scene with your father yesterday." She put her work-worn hand over the place where Rebecca had been slapped. "It was unwise of me to keep it from him."
"I'm used to such scenes, Mother," Rebecca said flatly.
"Yes, well, I am the cause of this particular one. And I am sorry."
Rebecca looked her in the eye. "Do you regret letting me learn how to read?"
Her mother smiled faintly. "You were always so different. Never like Lauren and Madelaine. You were always sneaking off to the beach, while your sister preferred the shelter of the house. Always taking down the bible from the mantle, trying to understand what it said. No," she decided, "I don't regret it. I'm proud a child of mine knows how to read, even if I can't."
"I could teach you," Rebecca offered quietly.
Her mother smiled agian and patted her hand. "No, dear. Book-learning is not meant for me. I am a wife and a mother, and I'm content just to be that."
Rebecca, in a rare show of emotion, hugged her mother. "Thank you," she told her again.
Her mother's smile turned sad. "Now go, before your father returns and finds out that I've let you go to the village again." She turned away.
Rebecca studied the older woman's slumped shoulders and weary movements. Life had beaten down her mother. Rebecca could not remember the last time her step had been jaunty or her laughter had rung out in the air.
She watched her mother rekindle the fire, and then turned and slipped out the door.
* * * * *
The village was thriving with life and nothing was silent or still. Rebecca smiled to herself as she walked past vendors and observed a pair of bickering men. Children ran past her, playing with a rag ball. She was jostled and even pushed once, but she didn't mind.
She approached a bread stand, and greeted the woman by it. "Hello, Maggie."
The toothless old woman grinned at her and watched as Rebecca looked over the loaves. Rebecca poked one to be sure. She knew that sometimes the bread was filled with sand to make it appear more rich and fulfilling.
"This will do," she decided.
Maggie held up two crooked fingers. Rebecca put the coins in her wrinkled hand and moved on to continue the rest of her errands. She got a new sewing needle, and some dress material from Mrs. Gram.
As she was giving the woman her sum, Rebecca felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, and smiled. "Peter!" She exclaimed in genuine pleasure.
Her friend smiled. "What are you doing here?" He asked her. "Lessons are over, and I know today isn't your family's fish-selling day."
Rebecca held up the material. "I'm getting some things for Mother."
"Did your father give you the book?"
Rebecca tried not to let her face fall. Her father hadn't, in fact, but she wasn't going to tell Peter that.
"Yes. I've just started it," she lied.
His expression lit up. "Isn't the language beautiful? The way he uses the words, 'Oh, how the wind'--"
"Peter!"
He turned and Rebecca saw his father beckoning to him. Peter turned back with an apologetic shrug. "Hope I see you soon," he told her.
Rebecca nodded. "Shall I give Lauren your greetings?"
A shadow passed over his face. He opened his mouth. "I--"
"Peter!" His father called again impatiently. Peter touched Rebecca's shoulder, just once, and ran over to his father. Her shoulder tingled where his hand had been.
Even though she knew she needed to go home, Rebecca watched Peter and his father. The older man held a net up for Peter to inspect. "What do you think? Will it hold?"
Peter looked back at Rebecca, and their eyes met. And though he was standing a distance away, and people around them were talking loudly, she heard his murmured answer, carried to her ears by the wind.
He never took his gaze off of her as he said it. "Exquisite."
(Not to be continued.)
If you don't continue I understand, but I sure hope you do! Looking forward to reading In the Deep Blue.
Anyways, I enjoyed this. Just a couple of grammatical errors is all. I thought this was interesting, but at some parts it did drag slightly, though overall it was an enjoyable read.