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Thomas was just about to turn off the road, heading toward the mill on the other side of the house, when he spotted her and his expression faltered. His whistling cut short.
The moment that passed between them was horrendously awkward, but blissfully brief.
Clearing his throat, he seemed to gather his courage before looking at Serilda again. Well, notather, exactly. More … at the sky just above her head. Some people did this. Too uncomfortable to look her directly in the eye, they would find something else to focus on, as if she couldn’t tell the difference.
“Good morning, Miss Serilda,” he said, removing his cap.
“Thomas.”
“Are you off to the school?”
“I am,” she said, gripping the handle of the basket tighter. “I’m afraid you’ve missed my father. He’s already gone to Mondbrück for the day.”
“Won’t be much longer before he’s done over there, will it?” He nodded toward the river. “Water’s picking up. Imagine this mill will be a flurry of activity soon enough.”
“Yes, but the work on the town hall has been a boon for us, and I don’t think he wishes to leave until it’s finished.” She cocked her head. “Are you worried about having to run the mill without him, should he not be back in time?”
“Naw, I think I can handle it,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. Finally meeting her eye for real. “He’s taught me up pretty well. So long as nothing breaks, that is.”
He flashed her a smile, showing the dimples that had once made her swoon.
Recognizing the peace offering, Serilda returned a weak grin. Thomas was the only boy in Märchenfeld that she had once upon a time thought?…?maybe. He was not the handsomest boy in town, but he was one of the few who didn’t shy away from her gaze. At least, back then he hadn’t. There had been a time when they were friends. He had even asked her to dance once at the Eostrig’s Day festival, and Serilda had been sure she was falling deeply in love with him.
She’d been sure he felt the same way.
But the next morning it was discovered that one of the gates on the Lindbeck farm had been left unlocked. Wolves had gotten two of their goats, and a number of their chickens had either escaped or been carried off by the pack. It wasn’t a difficult challenge for the Lindbecks to overcome—they had plenty of livestock. But still. Everyone in town had interpreted it as terrible ill fortune brought on by the cursed girl in their midst.
After that, he barely looked at her and made hasty excuses to leave whenever she was around.
She now regretted how many tears she’d wasted on him, but at the time, she had been devastated.
“I’ve heard that you’re hoping to offer your hand to Bluma Rask.”
She was surprised that the question had escaped.
Surprised more at the utter lack of spite it held.
Thomas’s cheeks flushed as his hands brutally twisted and untwisted the cap. “I … yes. I hope to,” he said cautiously. “This summer, I hope.”
She was tempted to ask how long he planned to apprentice for her father, and if he hoped to one day take over the mill. The Lindbecks owned a fair amount of farmland, but he had three older brothers who would inherit before him. It was likely that he and Hans and their other siblings would have to find their own way in the world if they hoped to provide for a family of their own. If Thomas could get the coin for it, he might even be interested in buying the mill himself. She pictured him and his sweetheart living here, in the house she had grown up in.
Her stomach curdled at the thought. But not out of jealousy for Thomas’s someday bride. Rather, she was jealous to think of the brood of children whose laughter might carry over these fields. They would splash in her river, climb her mother’s hazelnut tree.
She had always been so happy here, even if it was only her and her father. It was a wonderful home for a family.
But what did it matter? She had to say goodbye. They would never be safe here. They could never come back.
She nodded, and her smile became a little less forced. “I’m very happy for you both.”
“Thank you,” he said with an uncomfortable chuckle. “But I haven’t asked her yet.”
“I won’t say a word.”
She bid him farewell and started down the road, wondering when, exactly, she had fallen out of love with Thomas Lindbeck. She did not remember her heart healing, and yet it seemed clear that it had.
As she walked she noticed that the town of Märchenfeld was beginning to awaken as if from a long nap. Snow was melting, flowers were blooming, and springtide would soon be heralded by Eostrig’s Day, one of the biggest celebrations of the year. The festival took place on the equinox, which was still more than three weeks away, but there was much to do and everyone had a job—from preparing food and wine for the feast to sweeping the remnants of winter storms off the cobblestones in the city square. The equinox was a symbolic time, a reminder that winter had once again been bested by sunshine and rebirth, that life would return, that the harvest would be plentiful—unless it wasn’t, but that would be a worry for another day. Spring was a time of hope.
But this year, Serilda’s thoughts lingered on darker things. The conversation with her father had cast a shadow over everything she did this past month.
