Free The Forest at the Edge of the World by Trish Mercer Page A

of.” Hycymum put her hand on top of Mahrree’s. “When you decide you want to marry him, I will help you pick your linens.”
    “ Wha—, marr—, I—, MOTHER!” Mahrree spluttered. “What ARE you doing?! I debated the man just once and you already have me, me . . . ?” She stood and circled her chair like a disoriented fly. Why was it that she could debate anyone in the village but could rarely get her mother to understand anything?
    Hycymum looked at her sadly. “It’s just that you aren’t that young of a woman anymore. To find a man not intimidated by you is . . . wait. Oh no. What did you say at that debate? Oh, Mahrree! You didn’t ruin your chances with a corporal by being smart , did you?”
    “Mother!” Mahrree exclaimed and tried to calm down by taking a deep breath. She chose not to correct the rank mistake again and looked at her mother with her kindest face. “I came to visit you t onight because I wanted to be comforted. And I wanted to, to, oh I don’t know anymore . . . What’s so wrong about being smart? That’s what Father wanted.”
    “And he was much better at listening to you than I ever was.” Her mother sighed. “You have a question about what to put on the table for a formal dinner, I’m your woman,” she said with a happy smile that dimmed. “But you have a question about why something is right or wrong, you needed to talk to your father. He kept me ba lanced.”
    Mahrree had often wondered why her parents got together. Then she remembered her father loved all kinds of foods. And he really did seem to adore her, her silliness and everything.
    Mahrree took her chair again and the women sat in silence.
    Eventually her mother spoke. “You would do well with a man to help you keep your balance. Yes, I know—you’re very balanced. But a good man will help you improve the balance. I miss Cephas’s knowledge, his always wanting to do right. Sometimes when I hear you speak it’s like I’m hearing him. Maybe that’s why I don’t go to the debates too often.”
    And she had adored him, Mahrree thought. He could explain anything to her, and she absorbed it all. Mahrree seemed only to sloppily splash words against her mother. Of course she would miss him when she listened to her debate . . .
    Mrs. Peto sighed. “Ah, that’s not the reason I didn’t go. I’d just rather look at cloth with my friends! I am sorry,” she admitted with an apologetic grin.
    Mahrree chuckled. Hycymum sometimes acted as if her head was full of bubbles, but at least they were honest bubbles.
    “I’m sorry, Mahrree,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to marry you off tonight. I just worry. I wasn’t lonely for the sixteen years I had your father. I hate to think of you lonely for your whole life.”
    “As long as I have my students and you, Mother, I’ll never be lonely!” Mahrree declared. But tonight, those words and her life suddenly seemed empty.
     
    - --
     
    Several roads away the old rector and his wife wearily entered their back door after a long evening of visits. Mrs. Densal lit a candle on their eating table, and her husband gasped.
    The flickering light revealed a large figure in dark clothing fil ling the doorway between the kitchen and gathering room. Mrs. Densal whimpered.
    “It’s unsafe to leave your doors unlocked now that Guarder a ctivity has increased.”
    Hogal Densal released a large breath and shook his head. “Pe rrin Shin! Have you ever heard of knocking and waiting for a response?” He shook his head and chuckled nervously, then pulled out a chair and gestured for the captain to join him at the table.
    “Truly, Perrin! Frightening an old woman like this!” Mrs. Densal scolded with a broad smile as the captain sat down. She turned to a cabinet, took out a plate with a large piece of berry pie, and placed it in front of him.
    The captain started to shake his head, thought twice about it, and accepted the fork she offered.
    “Thank you,” he remembered to say