The orchard, even though not yet leafed out, did appear bonny on such a day. Sunlight slanted soft through the branches and the new grass showed virulent green.
Did a measure of the tension leave Annista’s shoulders?
It was quiet here but for the birds that twittered among the trees. Was she a woman who sought quiet?
“’Tis a pleasant place,” she allowed. “Did my sister come here?”
“Not that I know, mistress. Robena kept much to the house. To her chamber.”
Annista glanced back toward the house, the rear of which could still be glimpsed from here, past the stable block. She bared her teeth in an unfriendly smile but said nothing.
“D’ye like poetry?” he asked.
That made her stare at him full on. “Do I look like a woman who fancies poetry?”
“Yer sister did.” He thought back to one of the few times he’d actually encountered Robena, wanting to give her sister a clear memory. “She used to search out volumes in the library.”
Annista’s gaze softened. “Aye, that sounds like Robena. We were as different as—” her voice broke off—“as chalk and cheese. But we were bound at the heart.”
“I am sorry,” Alan told her, and meant it. “I never had that kind o’ relationship wi’ Evan.”
Annista snorted. “I should think no’.” She gazed away through the morning sunlight. “Robena was everything that I was no’, growing up. Sweet and dutiful and a joy to those around her. So pretty—”
Ye are pretty, Alan surprised himself by thinking, though it wasn’t strictly true. Standing there with the sun lighting her chestnut hair to red and her hazel eyes bright with memories, she was something far more than pretty.
Beautiful. Proud and fiery and—
He heard himself say softly, “And I imagine ye were everything she was no’. Strong and courageous, able to stand up for yoursel’.”
She stared at him again, this time in astonishment. Her lips trembled a bit before she said, “We filled in each other’s missing pieces, Robena and me.”
Alan nodded, pretending he could understand. Well, he could, in part. He and Evan were also opposites in many ways.
But not bonded, nay.
“When she was sent here to wed, awa’ from me, I thought my heart broke. I was wrong. It broke only after, when I learned what had happened to her.”
“Let us walk.” He could not stand here and look at her, behold the pain on her face.
Still not touching, they walked through the orchard to the meadow beyond. At harvest time, Alan worked here right alongside the others who belonged to the estate. No differences between them while sweating beneath the sun.
He enjoyed those days. Getting close to the soil, using his body for something basic and meaningful. Maybe even earning the respect of those beside whom he labored.
When they were young, he and Evan both worked the harvest. Then Evan grew old enough to rebel, and after a few battles, Father let him get away with it.
After that, Evan had sneered at Alan for playing the obedient serf.
Alan never had the courage to admit how much he liked those days and would hate to lose them. Mayhap he’d never had much courage at all.
Time he was honest with himself.
He could feel Annista looking at him, making him the focus of her attention for once.
“Wha’ is it?” she asked.
They stopped walking in the middle of the field. He looked at her.
“Just thinking o’ my brother. How things used to be between us. I want ye to understand—”
