Sophia wondered if she should follow Billford in the shed, or go wash her hands and head inside to find a task and begin showing her worth to the estranged grandfather who did not seem very warm nor welcoming, but who was kind enough to let her stay nonetheless. Winning him over would be her priority number one from now on, and that would include helping around even without him having to ask. She was used to doing things on her own, anyway. Not because her parents wanted to leave her home alone during daytime, but because they needed money to survive. As simple as that. And even though Sophia was a young child, she learned early on that nothing in this world came for free. Everything had a cost, and the only thing which did not, was already taken from her. She couldn't have her parents unconditional and irreplaceable love, and Billford might never come to love her as a grandchild, but she could purchase her spot in his household if she showed her worth in capability.
’’Do you know Grumpy Bill?’’ A voice as clear as the blue sky above could be heard from behind the stone fence, and Sophia was met with a child possibly close to her own age— a smile so contagious, jovial with two missing front teeth.
’’He is my grandfather.’’ Sophia took a step closer and immediately saw the girl excitedly jump up from the hiding, her tight curls of red shining brightly as if the flames of a bonfire. Her dress seemed old and had a few ripped spots, but it was a lovely shade of mellow blue with tiny bright yellow sunflowers all around.
’’Are you sure!?’’ She jumped on the fence and sat there, tangling her feet in the air.
’’Pretty sure, yes.’’ Answered Sophia with a raised eyebrow, tilting her head on the side as if wondering the same question herself. The situation was new to her as well. Foreign. Almost like a second, disconnected reality far from natural.
’’Sweet.’’ The girl sounded dreamy, ’’My name’s Marié! Marié Monree. I am an only child, and that is terribly boring.’’ She sighed dramatically while leaning forward and pushing her hands against the stone fence.
’’I am an only child as well.’’ Sophia finally walked all the way beside her, still hugging the tote bag and keeping her distance by exactly three steps. She had never seen someone with hair as magnificent and flattering under summer sky.
’’Lucky us! You could be my sister, then.’’ Marié smiled with the gums showing. Sophia’s eyes sparkled, for the first time she seemed to perhaps make a real friend, but better yet, a sister, ’’Well, we cannot actually be sisters but we can pretend, right?” Marié continued whilst holding a hand to hide her mouth, as if anyone was there to hear the unimportant details. Upon first meeting, Marié reminded Sophia of the cheerful little squirrels which she loved to follow on their Saturday picnics, and watch as they jumped from tree branches to tree branches gleefully playing amongst each other. A game she could not join. From time to time, the sight would also spark a sense of loneliness in her. Sophia did not have friends, because she wasn't in school yet like many others under ten year olds. Sophia would've started school by the next autumn in the Academy District’s middle school program, both excited and awfully frightened. But mostly, she couldn't wait to meet other children and make many friends along the way. Of course, only now did she remember those future plans, now made impossible. She could never ask to attend school here in Brifena, if they even had a school in the first place.
’’Okay!’’ Sophia smiled back at Marié and truthfully, it had been a while since the last time she felt such genuine joy, albeit fleeting. The creaking of the shabby shed’s door—a name she had already given on her own to the whimsical crooked shack, could be heard in the distance behind them.
Marié seemed to go stiff, like a stick in the freezing winter would once she saw Billford approach with his long, lanky steps. He was a strong, large man who always wore the wrinkles between the eyebrows as his best accessory, or a highly affective people repellent, ’’Well, i should return home. Mom is making pancakes for brunch. Bye, Sophié.’’ Marié jumped down from the stone fence and ran as fast as a grasshopper into the cabin next to them. Slightly different, maybe just as big but with more flowers planted on the front yard and a much more well kept porch with a swing meant for two, and lovely wind chimes tied on the high pillar of the shelter, creating fabled jingles together with the wonderful breeze.
’’Wasn't that the neighbors kid?’’ Billford asked as he reached Sophia, placing strict hands on the waist and pulling up the belt of his pants, ’’Miri—Mori—’’
’’Yes, Mister. Marié. Marié Monree.’’ Sophia straightened her back once more, made sure her feet both faced the same direction neatly side by side.
Billford hummed with a low growl, raising the lip from one corner revealing some of the teeth, resembling an irritated wolf awaken from its midday nap, ’’She is a loud rascal who keeps loitering around my fence. Keep your distance.”
’’But, Mister!’’ Sophia found herself resisting the urge to whine, ”She— seemed nice. And she called me Sophié. With all due respect, Mister, i have never had a real nickname before.’’ She mimicked the words which Sister Ylia had spoken, wondering if they truly were as respectful as the Sister’s facade was duplicitous. Sophia crushed the tote bag nervously against the stomach. Surely he wouldn't send her away for a small matter as such, would he not?
Billford looked down at her from underneath the stern eyelids for a moment longer, which made her feel more like a small ant under harrowing undesirable spotlight.
’’Fine. But if she causes any trouble, find someone else to play with.” Billford scoffed, nodding his head back towards the cabin as a sign to follow.
’’Yes! Mister.’’ Sophia beamed and followed closely, having to downright run to keep up with his long steps, worth as much as four of her own. Despite that, she had made her very first friend, on her very first day.
Sophia sat around the worn out dark wooden kitchen table and its matching six chairs. They were sturdy and made out of vintage rosewood, a set gifted from generation to the next in Dilamor's family tree, a tradition in danger to cease with Sophia being the last remaining Dilamor after Bill. A grandchild he did not know existed only short moments prior. She had a bowl of warm porridge with fresh berries on the side and a tiny lump of salty butter melting in the middle. For weeks on end Sophia had survived with nearly moldy bread and watery broth with close to non content in it, and she felt her stomach rumble from the simple scent of the bowl placed in front. Even still, for some reason, from each passing minute it felt impossible to dig the spoon in and ruin the perfection. On top of that, her parents had taught it to be rather rude to begin the feast without allowing the first bite to the Master of the household.
’’Not for your liking?’’ Billford pulled a chair for himself, the heavy sound it made dragging against the tile floors startled the child with shivers running over the shoulders. His bowl was just as perfect, equally filled to the edges. On the road, Sophia had always a portion smaller of what Sister Ylia had, or perhaps nothing at all. In Sister Ylia’s opinion it was justified, since Sophia was much smaller and did not require as much energy compared to an adult, but in all truth and honesty, those weeks exhausted small Sophia, causing her to lose weight dangerously fast.
’’No, nothing like such.’’ Sophia struggled to answer. Only one thing was clear—she would not ruin this God given chance and risk Billford sending her away if he felt the slightest displeased with the lack of manners, ’’I was waiting for you, Mister. My parents always taught me to be mindful and wait as the guest in the house.’’
’’Baloney— dig in and eat, or else I will. And there's plenty more for seconds.’’ Billford murmured with narrow eyes whilst leaning his arm against the edge of the table and began his meal. It was still quite early in the day, sun not peaking from the highest mountain yet, so porridge was more than acceptable. Sophia did not waste any more time and without noticing began to wolf down the bowl like a child who had never seen food in her entire life, causing her to cough with the last few hasty spoonfuls.
’’Wow there, slow down kid.’’ Billford got up and took the nearly empty bowl from her. She had some porridge on her cheek and the spoon was inside the fist like a wielded weapon of a soldier, ’’Like I said, plenty more.’’ He came back with the bowl now refilled with the same exact amount. Sophia felt her cheeks gathering heat, her shoulders rising towards the ears as she pushed the tight fists against the knees, thinking she must’ve messed up already.
’’Did they not feed you? My son—your parents?’’ Bill asked quietly. His way of speaking seemed unbothered, uninterested. Yet the expression in the corners of the wrinkles on his face would occasionally give away the hidden agenda.
Sophia relaxed her shoulders, the feeling of embarrassment washing away with the thought of her loving parents, ’’They do—did. Mother is—was, a great cook. And father was knowledgeable with herbs and plants. He knew which ones we could eat, and which ones were useful. He knew many things.’’ She found herself smiling yet tears began to form in the corners of her hazel eyes. She hated the past tense. It made her feel as if they were completely gone. As if they never were. Her small, aching heart could not endure the pain just yet.
Billford did not answer with much else than a low, quiet hum as he finished his bowl. He stayed there, accompanying the little one as she slowly took mouthfuls of the sweet, savory and salty porridge, taking her time finishing the second serving until the very last drop. There was something quite calming in the ambiance of the dusty kitchen and the silence between the two, ’’You won’t be hungry here, kiddo. But there are going to be a few rules that must be followed. If you wish to stay, that is.’’ Billford said while leaning against the back of the chair, crossing his arms in a demanding demeanor.
’’Following rules is my speciality!’’ Sophia perked higher on the chair, her eyes shining from the tasks about to be given on her care. Whatever it was, it sure must be better than spending the days inside the stone walls of the Orphanage being bullied by Sister Ylia all day and night. Besides, secretly, since the moment they’d arrived, she found herself hoping for grandfather Billford to take her in, for she fell in love with the Town of Brifena and the scenery surrounding it from the very first glimpse that she laid her eyes on the mountains and the forest and the lovely thin waterfall as a background of it all.
’’Is that so? Very well then, rule number one: You shall accompany me during my tasks and help with what you can. I cannot imagine your scrawny limbs are capable of much, but we’ll find you work. I am a woodcutter, after all. Which means that we’ll be making frequent trips to the forests. That is my job.’’ Billford explained calmly, and Sophia couldn’t have been happier knowing that she could explore the forests to her heart’s content, thus she nodded approvingly, ’’Rule number two: No going outside past 6pm. These folks enjoy the local Pub of the old Madam Heredina a little too much, and they will become insufferable to deal with after a pint or two. It’s best to stay off the streets during evenings. And rule number three: Though you will not be in charge of the chores around the house alone, you must follow my orders at all times. And that is all for the rules. For now.’’
’’Is that truly all, Mister?’’ Sophia stared back at him with a gaping mouth, ’’I— thank you, Mister, for letting me stay. You won’t regret it!’’ She had imagined something more. Something much stricter. Perhaps something on the lines of no making sound, no looking in the eyes, not getting on his way and what not. But Billford's rules seemed peculiarly ordinary. Rules which any reasonable guardian could set on a young child who had just been dropped on their doorstep unexpectedly.
’’We’ll see about that..’’ Billford was one pessimistic man. He did not like to expect the best, nor did he worry about the coming. Like Marié had addressed him with the name Grumpy Bill, it was the name given by the local rascals. It did describe his resting face quite accordingly, and it wasn’t as if he did not know about the given nickname nor did he mind about that, either. He was a lonely man—wasn’t in the past—but over the years and how things turned out, forced down his throat the lifestyle of a lonesome woodcutter, that is how things simply turned out to be. Creating a heart with a thorny fence crushing tight around it.
Billford got up and was about to reach out and take Sophia’s empty bowl, when the young child leaped on top of it, hugging it under as if hiding the most priced possession about to be taken away.
’’No! Leave the dishes to me, Mister. I'll take care of them all.’’ Sophia began to take off the baby blue cardigan and rolled up the sleeves of her oversized white shirt before taking the dishes by the sink. She had no change of clothing, and those had began to smell rather unpleasant. She found the bar of soap on a small plate by the edge of the counter and pushed a plug in the hole of the sink to keep the water in, ’’Where do we store the warm water, Mister?’’
”A copper barrel in the washroom. Take a bucket from the cabinet beside your feet and fill it. The water is still warm from last night and i will heat more by afternoon.” He answered, only stating what was necessary before leaving back to his work.
Sophia crouched down and opened the cabinet. She picked the bucket and peeked towards the corridor with a cute small window by the end of it. The cabinets of the kitchen were light green, and the counters made out of dark wood and the floors were covered with small white tiles. Everywhere else the floors were wooden, which amazed Sophia as she walked down the corridor. She loved the tiny creaking sounds that the floor made, inspiring her to find the loudest board with zigzagging steps. She had never lived in a house with wooden floors, her childhood home back in The Kingdom Capital had the ugly cracked cold concrete floors, unless you were very well off.
Sophia opened the first door on the left and found one of the bedrooms, it seemed. The room was dusty and kept as a storage judging by the few items pushed against the walls and covered with white bedsheets. The room’s had plenty of natural light due to the many wide windows, and you could truly appreciate the nature surrounding the cabin through them. Yet again the complete opposite from her home in The Kingdom Capital, which had small windows and as few as possible, offering the cramped views towards the narrow alleyways on both sides no matter where you looked.
Sophia continued her search for the washroom. Behind the second door opposite from the first, she found Billford’s bedroom instead— hurriedly closing it with a bang louder than intended. She did not want him finding her in the act, and assume her to be snooping around his belongings already. Sophia looked around, nowhere else to go from there. She went back into the kitchen, further right, and found the living room area, with two large couches like the softest most fluffiest worn out clouds, a wooden table in the middle and a bookshelf behind one of the couches, filled with books tightly pressed side by side from one corner to another. Sophia went by the bookshelf and began to read the sides. They were mostly about medicine, herbs, cooking and other useful talents to study while living in the middle of nowhere. No stories of fairytales nor those of great battles. Only useful knowledge. Unlike to many ten year olds, to Sophia this bookshelf seemed like the most desirable playground, and she wondered if she could perhaps one day be as selfish as to ask if she could read a book or two, and whether Billford would allow such wish to be granted.
Sophia looked around and did not see more rooms to explore, except for the stairs going up, and everyone knew that a washroom could not have been built on a higher level. Thus Sophia wondered if the washroom could be found outside, instead. She went by the front door to fetch her shoes and went outside, following the side of the cabin while hearing the clanks and clonks of Billford working on something in the shed as she passed it, and soon arrived at the backyard, where a whole new world opened up in front of her very eyes. There were two more buildings made out of logs and red bricks. The other one definitely being a small stable which could house a horse or two, and a horse carriage beside it underneath a rain shelter. The horse carriage did not have a roof, only a long seat and an open empty load behind it that was used to bring the logs back from the forest to then be prepared into firewood. The other building looked more like a shed for the washroom, thus Sophia began to take quick bouncy steps towards it, half running her way with the bucket in a tiny embrace.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
She opened the wooden door and it was just as she had expected. One side of the shed had a countertop with two deep and wide metal sinks, and the other side had a barrel-like bathtub beside the wall. The floors were concrete so it wouldn’t suffer any water damage, but occasional squares made out of wooden boards were places by the door and by the sink to make standing there a bit more comfortable. There were two lanterns which could be hang from the ceiling and a window which could be covered with tightly crocheted lace curtains. Sophia immediately imagined bringing flowers by the empty counter which only had two small plates with bars of soap and a basket with towels in them. Flowers would brighten up the washroom, maybe even bringing beautiful green vines and adjusting them hanging from the corner where the wall and ceiling united. The humid air after each bath would make the plants delighted, as well.
Sophia went by the copper barrel which was sitting alone in a corner. She knew not to touch the side of it. It was like a huge soup pot, but with a hatch for the firewood, used to heat burning hot water so it could them be mixed with cold water, creating the desired temperature. Sophia lifted up the lid and saw it almost half full with clean water. She placed her hand hovering on top of the surface to try how hot the steam would feel on the skin. The water seemed safe enough and it made her desire a bath, but she had to push that thought aside for now, since she already had a lot of work to do and couldn’t start slacking on her very first day. She reached for a wide wooden ladle with a long handle and placed the bucket beside her feet. Carefully, she filled the bucket with the warm water. Sophia carried the bucket back with both hands, keeping herself straight from the weight of it. She had to stop a couple of times to shake her hands and prepare for the few more steps ahead, groaning and huffing from the heavy lifting. She knew that she’d have to start gathering more strength and get used to heavy lifting if she wanted to truly impress Billford, persistent to make it on her own.
Once back by the kitchen, Sophia noticed a small one-step stool on the ground in front of the deep sink, which was not there before. She let the bucket down with a heavy drop and stretched her back with both hands pressing the lower part similar to an old lady. Sophia stepped on the stool and those few extra inches definitely made her task a lot easier. She knew Billford must’ve brought the stool from somewhere. He must’ve hated inefficient working, and Sophia felt very thankful for the cute little stool to give her some much needed height. Sophia began her task, finishing in no time since preparing porridge would not require much of tools to begin with. She looked around and noticed the whole cabin covered in dust no matter what counter she swept her finger across with— simply unacceptable.
After a while of working by the shabby shed, Billford threw the last log on the pile of a neatly build stack and wiped away sweat from the temple of his forehead with the dirty rag stained by the harsh conditions. He looked around, pleased with the amount of work he got done through the morning, but soon began to wonder what the kid was up to since the last time he saw her was a couple of hours ago. Clearing his throat from the small grit floating in the air of the shed, noticeable thanks to the light shining through the window, Billford stepped over the high threshold which prevented any drop of water from getting inside on a rainy day in case the yard happened to flood, and continued inside the cabin. The sun had moved quite a lot on the other side of the front yard, and Billford placed an arm over the eyebrows to take a look of the sky. Another few dry days ahead, it seemed. By the entrance, Billford left his shoes by the doorstep and continued in, immediately met with the kitchen and a view which took him by surprise. Sophia was above the sink and had opened the large windows, kneeling and bending further outside on the windowsill while dusting a light grey rag with quick snapping hand movements. She had tied her long, wavy golden locks of hair behind with a ribbon, which was actually just a rag since she had nothing else to do the job. Another rag she had tied as a triangle scarf over her head to keep the hair from falling down and over the eyes.
Sophia’s bare toes tangled towards the sink as she sat down on her calfs and folded the rag, now clean from the dust that had gathered while singing a children’s tale of a forest made out of cookies. A silly little song. It was simply a choice which came into her mind since it was cheerful, easy to sing, and she loved cookies which were an occasional treat she used to get on the weekends together with tea.
Turning around, she got startled by the sudden Billford standing there watching. Sophia had not heard him come in, thinking she was alone she screamed with a high pitched squeak of a tiny mouse and began to fall back, her wrist grabbed by Billford not a moment too late.
’’Fool of a child!’’ Billford roared, ’’What were you thinking, hanging from the window?’’ He pulled her gently and she lowered down inside the deep sink, her legs shaking thus she hugged them close to chest. Sophia was not scared of Billford’s loud voice, he did not yank her nor crush her wrist either. She was simply surprised and startled. Sophia did not want to cause trouble, especially not on her first day staying there, yet couldn’t stop worrying.
’’I— wiped every last nook of the windowsills, as well.’’ Sophia lowered her chin on top of the knees. She wondered if perhaps she had crossed the line, cleaning the whole kitchen and living room without being asked to do so. Billford picked up on the words as well spoken, and began to turn around to look more closely. It was true, the whole kitchen might as well had sparkled with how much work had been put into every corner and every handle of the cabinet as well as baseboards circling through the room. Little Sophia must’ve been on her knees at least an hour scraping to get the white tiles looking so luminous while reflecting the daylight.
’’That’s— good job.’’ Billford huffed with a long agonizing sigh as he massaged the back of his neck, averting eye contact all together. He felt bad about yelling earlier, had no idea that the little girl could get so much done in only couple of hours. His home had not looked as clean in weeks, since from the beginning of the spring his most busiest seasons began and there would be hardly any time to mind about the smaller tasks which then were left for another day, and another, until completely forgotten.
Sophia’s eyes sparkled with the unexpected praise instead of a scolding. Feeling better now, she turned around still inside the sink and reached higher to pull the window closed by the small lock so that bugs wouldn’t take their chances and invite themselves as unwanted visitors, ’’I’ll take care of the upstairs next.’’ She began to climb down from the sink, bringing over and down one leg first and then the other. She fixed her skirt with tiny patting hands and the shirt which had rolled up from all the big movements done while working hard. She tucked the overly large hem of the shirt under the waistband of the light brown skirt to tidy up her appearance a bit.
’’The hell you will.’’ Billford went by the small hidden hatch on the floor that led to an underground cellar where he stored everything that required to be kept in a dark and cold confined space, ’’We’ll be having a late lunch today.’’ He brought back some butter, a bag of potatoes and eggs, and a tightly wrapped bundle which seemed to be leaking with something red. Sophia’s round eyes were perplexed, but her throat couldn’t stop from gulping when seeing all the delicious fresh ingredients.
Not much later, Sophia washed and peeled potatoes around the kitchen table, extra meticulous with the task given. Billford prepared the meat of a deer, frying it in butter which he had bought from the Market by The Town Square earlier that same morning. The cabin began to fill with rich scent, forcing Sophia to swallow long and hard. Billford added two stems of rosemary on top of the steak and placed a lid on top of the pan sizzling small splashes of grease, with few even reaching his hand, although no one would be able to notice since it did not make him as much as flinch. He noticed the water in the pot beginning to boil and before he could even open his mouth, little Sophia was already one step ahead.
’’Yes, I’m finished.’’ Sophia brought the carefully peeled and perfectly shaped potatoes, and instead of handing them to Billford, she stepped on the small stool and began to drop the potatoes in the pot while snapping her hand back as soon as they sank and resurfaced, skillfully avoiding the splatters of fuming hot water. She had done that many times before. After finishing her task successfully, Sophia kept staring at her hard work dancing in the boiling water going high and low.
Sophia had not tasted meat as tender and tasty in a long time, since such meat tended to be quite expensive in The Kingdom Capital. They both patted their satisfied tummies while sinking deep into the chairs. Billford had cut the steak equally in half and was about to lower it on Sophia’s plate when the little girl had stopped him, telling him she could not eat as much and begged him to cut it into a smaller piece once more. Billford had glared in disbelief, but compiled after seeing the worried expression on the child. She was worried of potentially wasting such quality meat, besides, she always liked potatoes the best so she could always refill on those if needed.
After their meal, Sophia helped with the dishes, drying them with a clean towel after Billford finished washing them. Standing side by side in the kitchen, in front of the sink and the window which showed the lovely mountains in the distance. The lovely coniferous trees’ extensively as far as the eyes could carry, and the bright blue sky with hardly any clouds in sight. And even if there were, they resembled small fluffy baby sheep’s running in the fields. The two worked in peaceful quietness, and Sophia couldn’t help but wonder why the silence between Sister Ylia had felt extremely miserable, yet perfectly easeful in the presence of grandfather Billford.
Sophia liked him. He might have the look of a somewhat unpleasant man to be around with, but not at all in Sophia’s perception. She saw a man who did not like showing his affection, did not perhaps know he had any affection to offer, yet the actions spoke louder than any frown or growl or click of a frustrated tongue could. And little Sophia wondered if he’d ever allow her to call him grandfather. Wishful thinking she found herself praying to one day come true.
After they had finished cleaning the kitchen, Billford led the way upstairs. A part of the cabin she had not yet seen. There was nothing much to see when they reached the second floor, only a small room with a chest of drawers below a window and a door on the left. Sophia waited as Billford opened the door, eyes focused on the chest and how endearing the small space would look if there were a glass jar with wildflowers in it, the petals dazzling the glowing rouge of the sun through the window behind them. She would have to ask a permission to fill the cabin with plants and flowers, and hope for the best. Billford did not seem like a man to appreciate such delicate beauty in his decor, but perhaps he’d come to value the worth of such details.
’’Here—’’ Billford opened the white wooden door with a twist of the rusty knob, ’’Is your bedroom from now on.’’ He let the door wide open and stepped inside, leaving little Sophia standing there with her shoulders down relaxed. Her eyes widened in delighted shock as Billford searched for something on the wall, flicked his finger which resulted into a tiny satisfying sound of a tic, then revealed the small painted glass lamp in a wavy shape like the hem of a dress or a bell-like flower hanging from the middle of the ceiling. Not that they needed the light switched on while the sun was high up, but Billford needed to make sure the current light bulb still worked. Lights had been barely invented 50 years ago, and although they were common, not every household had them, for many still preferred using lanterns and candles around the house. Mostly shops and other establishments had the regular obligation to have electric lights installed to them. Sophia looked around more astonished than ever. She had assumed that the dusty small room across Billford’s own downstairs would become hers to sleep in. Sure, it did require some work and a bed or at least a mattress on the floor—she was not picky—but to have a floor all to herself seemed terribly profuse. After all, she had been used to sharing a room with her wonderful parents and loved hearing their heavy breathing and sharing the warmth. Their home might’ve been rough on the edges as an understatement, but it was them which made it feel like home truly, after all.
Sophia played with the dry cuticles of her fingernails as she nervously stepped inside. She did not know what made her so nervous in the first place, but the room which opened in front of her was large, covered the whole second floor. It had a different type of wooden floor in comparison to the rest of the cabin, beige and lighter in color. The walls were curved along the roof, pastel green wallpapers decorated with small symmetrical dandelions. The baseboards were white, and there was a large window by the furtherest wall which deepened outside creating a wide windowsill with its own walls on the sides. A perfect nook offering the best view of the fields and the town in the distance slightly lower as the household was in the middle on a shallow hill. Sophia could imagine herself sitting in that nook with her father’s notebook, illustrating new plants and herbs and flowers with detailed descriptions on the side as her father had done on the pages before. There was a bed with light wooden frames, a bureau as a writing desk and a chair to match it, a dresser and chest which looked like they could contain a treasure from the deepest bottom of The Great Ocean Guruld. They reminded Sophia of the pirate tales which mother Harriett would occasionally tell when the rain had poured endlessly, setting the perfect mood for stories below and above the surface. Those tales were secretly Sophia’s very favorite.
Sophia walked by the window nook and placed a hand on the wooden panel reaching the high curved ceiling, and in that moment, she noticed familiar initials curved on the surface— G.D.
’’This was your father’s room back in the day.’’ Billford had stayed by the doorway, not daring to step inside. Even if the other rooms downstairs were covered in dust and left untouched, it was not the same up here. After all, he did not expect any orphans on his front step nor did he have any other grandchildren running around. Sophia noticed this small, odd detail, how the downstairs were hardly cleaned properly until she rolled up her sleeves— yet this room upstairs seemed as if it was a golden medal of a hero returning home. Kept in a glass cabinet for everyone to see and admire, or hidden from the eyes to be kept as a priced possession only meant to be visited once in the full moon. As if a needed reminder reminiscing the days which once were.
’’Dad.’’ Sophia whispered gently while holding her fingers on top of his letters, feeling the warmth seeping through them and leaching on the tips of her fingers, traveling through and reaching her heart. Images of him as a young child in this very same room began to form, wondering what toys he liked to play with, did he like to lay on the floor on his belly and draw or read by the window nook?
Billford stared at the back of the small skinny child and her long wavy hair glimmering the golden strands of the sun. It had been so long since anyone other than him had stood in that room, and despite his own presence alone had felt lonely and cold through out all those years after Gregory had left the house for the last time, with little Sophia there, the walls seemed to gather more color, the view from the windows seemed to brighten. The earthy scent complimented the scene. He sniffled his nose, but only once, blinking the eyes furiously while clearing his throat and stretching his arms as he silently turned to leave. Bearing the sight longer than he thought. Billford returned to the living room and noticed the young 15 year old postman with light brown hair and a donkey-like grin ride his bike beside his estate, reaching his hand in the crossbody bag and throwing a rolled newspaper with a quick flick of a wrist. Just in time, perfect distraction from the unwanted emotions forcing to emerge.
Sophia did not notice him leave at first, but figured he had matters to attend to. She lowered her tote bag on the bed and dropped herself sitting on the edge of it. Soft and comfortable. Definitely old, but so was her small bed previously. The bedsheets felt clean and untouched cotton linen, simple pastel shade of brown. Sophia brushed her hands on the surface gently before reaching for the tote bag. She took out the baby blue cardigan and folded it neatly on the side. She took out Mr. Higgins and gave it a little squeeze before placing it to sit beside the cardigan. And finally, she took out father’s leather notebook. Sure, she could’ve taken her own notebook as well which she had treasured since receiving it as a birthday present, but they did have the same information as of today. And if not, she wouldn’t have her father’s documented handwriting to admire whenever she felt. Those cursive, thin sweeps of ink on the paper which smelled of the dry flowers that hanged from their kitchen ceiling, Sophia noticed, as she pressed her nose against the pages and inhaled long and deep. The scent took her back, even if the image in her mind was a brief fleeting moment. And as it faded away, it left a gaping deep hole on the spot, forcing little Sophia to finally hug the notebook close as the long suppressed tears began to overflow without any control nor say. She leaned forward on top of her thighs, shoulders shivering and hopeless whimpers escaping through the tight lips. Echoing in the walls of what used to be, and what now remained.
Downstairs, Billford took off his hat and shoes by the entrance and unrolled the fresh newspaper midway towards his way in the living room, beneath the staircase leading up— he stopped and read the front article which finally reached the faraway Town of Brifena, the carefully crafted first words stating Devastating fire by the Continent’s largest paper factory in The Kingdom Capital claims eleven lives.
And whilst staring at the picture taking space from half of the front page, terrible grainy quality of black and white, yet enough to recognize the uncontrollable flames and smoke and people, he couldn’t help but hear the soft cries of a little child left behind.
─?~???~?─
