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She kept herself busy, producing enough tonics and salves to fully stock an apothecary. They were everywhere—in the cupboards, on the floors, filling every nook and cranny, every ledge and every sill. Some of them even made their way up to the loft, infringing on my teeny tiny territory. The cottage was drowning in little glass vials and metal tins. Apart from them being everywhere, I also wondered how safe it was having that many inside, wondered what might happen if they spilled and their contents mixed.
Ka-boof! answered my mind.
My solution? Sell them. And so, every morning, I filled my basket carefully and headed into the village, to the market. Which was what I was doing now—working at the market.
Today was busy, more than usual. I eyed the scattered vials and salves. They were organized this morning, not that I could say the same for them now—who knew Ezra’s tonic and salves would be in such hot demand? I certainly hadn’t. I maneuvered a few, putting them back where they belonged, but gods, the table was a mess. The sporadic, colorful pattern of the tablecloth below wasn’t helping with the chaos either. I decided I wouldn’t use it again.
“I’ll trade you six beets for the canker salve,” said a blue-eyed woman who wore a bonnet on her head, her curly brown hair spilling out from underneath. She was a stocky woman, riddled with premature wrinkles—a telltale sign of a hard life. Two young children hovered closely by her side. She fisted the drooping stems, the large beets turned upside down, and thrust them in my face.
Gently, I pushed them and her hand to the side, out of my face. “Sorry.” I gestured to the heaped bucket of beets behind the table—the common currency for the past few days. “I can only eat so much borscht. What else do you have to trade?”
The little girl who hung to her mother’s leg looked up at me, offering me a big, toothy grin. She wore a matching bonnet, just like her mother’s. She was a cute little thing, big blue eyes and blonde hair. Warmly, I smiled back. The other one, a boy, maybe a year older than the girl, wrapped his hands around the nook of his mother’s elbow and gave a gallant tug. “Come on, Mama, I want to go home.”
“Hush, child,” the woman scolded, tugging her arm away. She flipped the cotton cover over her basket and began to rifle threw the variety of vegetables. She produced a stash of carrots, her gaze darting to me.
I sucked my teeth, motioning to the bucket sitting beside the beets—chock-full of carrots. I gave her an apologetic shrug.
She huffed at me, dug in her coin purse, and then slammed three coins down on the table. The force of it caused the vials and salves to chatter in response. Lifting her head, she glared at me. “Fine. But not a copper more.”
I plucked the two coins, leaving the third. “Two coins is fine.”
Her expression softened, like butter taken from the cellar and left out on the counter. “But I saw what the last lady paid for the same salve. She gave you four coins. And they were minted with the king’s head.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. Besides, you have more mouths to feed.” My gaze roamed over the table as I looked for the canker salve. Finding the small golden tin, I plucked it and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she took it. She placed it in her basket, bid me goodbye, and then stalked over to another vender a few tables down from mine. She tried to exchange her beets for something else, but the seller turned her down. Huffing, she trotted away, her little ducklings closely in tow.
I leaned forward, dropped my elbow on the table, and plopped my chin into my hand. The three reminded me of my younger years, when Ezra would bring Kaleb and me into the village to get groceries. That felt like a lifetime ago.
A dull ache formed in my chest.
Pulling away from the table, I took the two coins and dropped them into my coin pouch. I tested the weight in my palm, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the hefty, jiggling coin. Kaleb would have been proud.
“Hello, Sage,” grunted Joe, his arms carrying a large bag of flour. He flopped it onto the ground, the force emitting a puff of white. His hands shot to his back as he stretched it out, blowing out a breath of air.
“Hi, Joe,” I answered with a smile. I pointed to the bag. “Do you need some help with that?”
“No, no.” He shook his hands and his head, emphasizing his response. “It’s good for me. Keeps me in shape.” His wiry brow dropped as he took in all the tonics and salves on the table before his eyes shifted back up to my face, his voice sprinkled with concern. “How’s she doing?”
I tilted my head from side to side, weighing my response. “She’s doing alright. She seems to be slowing down a little. But that could be because she is running low on tins.”
Ah yes, the treasured tin. Ezra had asked me to pick some more up in town today, but I decided not to—I wasn’t sure if I wanted to feed her latest obsession. Then again, it was better than her just sitting around, not that she was the sitting around type—she wasalwaysdoing something weird.
“I’m relieved to hear she is doing alright. I know how much Kaleb meant to her. How much you both mean to her,” Joe said as he pulled out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. He dabbed his slick brow with it before he neatly folded it and returned it to its designated spot.
“You mean a lot to her as well.” I swished my lips to the side, pondering a thought before I voiced it. I decided to lead into it instead. “Can I ask you a question, Joe?”
He nodded once, a smile on his face. “Of course, what is it?”
“I know you proposed to Ezra a few times, many years ago. When she said no, why didn’t you ever marry anyone else?” I asked, leaning in.
As bright as starlight, a twinkle blossomed in his eye. He shook his head, as if he, too, were still mystified by it. Finally, he said, “I guess the heart wants what the heart wants.”
I smiled while releasing a breath of air through my nose. “I’ve heard that expression before. But still, I don’t quite understand it.”
“Ah, well, I hope someday, you are given the chance to experience it firsthand. There is no better feeling in the world than true love. It’s the only thing that can stand the test of time.” He sealed his words with a wink before he rubbed his hands together and heaved the flour sack over his shoulder. “Well, I better get this back to the bakery before the mice catch a whiff. It was good seeing you, Sage. Take care,” he grunted before he turned and walked away.
“You as well, Joe. Take care,” I called out, smiling to myself.
