"Put some shoes on." The silver-haired woman with the time-lined face set a fisted hand against her hip, eyeing the girl before her. "Autumn's coming on, and the nights are getting cooler." She waved the same hand in the air, the fingers fluttering impatiently, dismissing her daughter, and turned back to continue kneading the lump of floury dough she had been working with her knuckles. "We can't afford to have you catching ill now."
The girl crept away across the kitchen to fetch the pair of worn, leather shoes beside the back door. Her mother's voice followed her, undeterred by her obedient silence. "Your father's got a herd to drive north, all the way to Cliving, and he'll be needing your help."
This news broke the girl's silence, as she turned wide, dark blue eyes on her mother. "Cliving! So far? Must I go, too?" She tugged the shoes onto her feet and stood up, wringing her fingers together.
"Of course you must! Who else would go? Most of the hired help's done for the summer. You know that." The woman peered over her shoulder, and for a moment she went still, and something seemed to soften in her wizened eyes, which were the color of a spring sky. "I don't approve of it. Young girl going off over rough roads and muddy fields like a boy ought to do." Her forehead wrinkled slowly with a growing frown. "Your father's ruined you, I think." She clucked her tongue and turned back to her kneading. "But once his mind's made up, that's all there is to it."
"But...we'll be gone such a long time," the girl whispered, more to herself than to her mother. She stood a moment, then gave a sharp little gasp and bolted for the back door. Her mother turned to stare after her, seeing nothing but the door swinging closed with a thump.
The farm yard was bathed in the gentle, rosy glow of a late-summer twilight. Puffs of dust kicked up in the wake of the girl's running feet as she hastened towards the nearby stable, its doors flung wide to the cool, evening breeze. A man was perched in the back of a wagon, and the sounds of a hammer punctuated the steady swing of his wiry arm.
"Father!" cried the young woman, and he paused in his movements. "Father," she panted again, coming to a halt before him. "Is it true? I'm to go with you, north to Cliving?"
Silver-blue eyes regarded the breathless girl with a quiet calm. "Yes," he said simply, with a nod of his greying head. "That's right. I was going to tell you next I saw you. But it sounds like your mother beat me to it." He gave a dry, grunting chuckle, shifting to sit back on his haunches and rest his arms on his knees. Gazing off towards the setting sun, he drew a long breath in, considering what to say next.
But his daughter interrupted before he could say more. "Where is Théo?" she demanded.
The old man blinked. "What?"
"Théo! Where is he?"
Puzzled by the turn in the conversation, the man shrugged and gestured vaguely with his hand in the air. "I don't know. Eh...thought I saw him heading towards the river with a few of the other young folk." He sighed with a sharp bounce of his shoulders. "I'll miss the boy. I admit it. I - "
"Thanks, Father!" the girl blurted out, not letting him finish. Her hand slapped the side of the wagon once, and she turned and sprinted away, disappearing in a flurry of running feet and dust.
The evening was deepening quickly now as the girl ran along the lane. Crickets were singing in the heather thickets, and the air held a sharp, cool tinge that she found immensely pleasant after the heat of the day. By the time the shining ribbon of the Snowbourn river came into view, the stars were beginning to wink on overhead, one by one.
The shouts of the young men and women carried through the air, and her steps slowed before she drew too close. Catching her breath, she brushed a wayward wisp of golden hair from her eyes, and shyly meandered closer, keeping behind tufts of tall grass, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy she sought. She needed to tell him that she was leaving. To thank him for the warmth of his friendship during the hot, wonderful summer. To perhaps steal one more kiss before the weather changed. Before she went one way and he another. To see his crooked, mischievous smile and the way his blue eyes wrinkled at the edges when he looked down at her.
Slipping up behind the thick trunk of an old maple tree, she peered around it. Beside the river, several figures could be seen lounging upon the grassy bank and leaning against the gnarled oak tree that held the beloved rope swing. Her heart leapt as she spied the rusty red hair and familiar brown shirt. He was propped against the tree with his elbow, and was laughing boisterously. The sort of laugh she had come to cherish. How she wanted him to turn and see her and smile at her that way! She shifted slowly, leaning a bit more to see what had amused him so.
A girl was tucked up next to him, so closely that she hadn’t been visible at first. She had hair the color of honey, tied in a loose braid that fell forward over her shoulder. Her body was willowy and delicate, draped in a dress the color of cornflowers. She was smiling, her teeth shining a blinding white, even from so far away. The girl behind the tree stared, unable to move, an unwilling witness as the boy leaned down and pecked a kiss to his companion’s lips.
Time came to a grinding halt. The hidden girl behind the maple tree could not hear the birds, or the crickets, the laughing youths or the whispering river. The scene seemed to lose all its color, the world going into a phantom wash of grey. The edges of her vision grew fuzzy, and she had to remind herself to take another breath, while she swayed dizzily and clutched the tree for support.
Gasping heavily, she turned and stumbled away from the tree, praying that she would be hidden from view as she made a hasty retreat back the way she had come. Slowly, the night came back into focus. The darkening sky, the beautiful glow on the horizon, the singing frogs along the riverside. The world was still here. Caring nothing for what she had just witnessed, or the sickening way her heart slammed about behind her ribs.
Thoughts of a tender farewell turned to bitterness on her tongue, and she heard herself whimpering pitifully as her plodding feet broke into a run, carrying her back home.
