"You're nervous."
"I am
not nervous."
"A wife can tell, honey. You've cleaned that table three times in one break. How much dust do you think could settle on it in that time?"
"Doesn't mean I'm nervous. And it wouldn't be because I'm afraid some city scrote might wrinkle his nose at our dinner table."
"
That's not what you're nervous about."
Alsome had been married too long to take
that bait, kick off a fight he knew he was going to end up apologizing for that evening. As he turned to face his wife, he saw a smile on Regeta's plump features that made him forget that was even an option. He smiled, half tired and half amused and all of it, all of him, remembered why he loved this woman.
She knows you better than you do.
"You know," he said slowly, slapping the dust cloth clean out the window before tossing it back to her. "Some men might think that tone and those words were proof I didn't beat you enough."
"Oh, would they now?"
"Oh, yes," he said, words grave and low and his performance was a fine thing. He sauntered up to his woman and slid his hands up her thighs. "Quite the warning sign, I'm sure they'd think. In dire need of correction."
She was a peasant girl, like her mother and grandmother and so forth going back... Fates, probably back since Etzos was a bloody field with a sodding big rock sticking out of it. Rough cotton and home-knitted aprons were her most common garb, save for the silk she wore on festival days. Today, her one concession to high fashion and their guest was the satin kerchief in her black hair, holding it in a ponytail that was resting on her shoulder like some sleeping, furry beast.
She smiled and Alsome smiled. She rolled her eyes and he smiled wider, because peasant though she was, she had the soul of humor and a mind for wit. She made him
happy, and he never forgot that. Even when he was nervous.
"Dire need? You've been reading again."
"Always trying to improve my cogniz...
cognitive functions."
Regeta sighed and shook her head, turning from him and checking the plethora of pots and pans and bubbling, steaming, simmering receptacles all over her stove. Alsome, of course, was not so easily dissuaded, and his hands stayed where they were.
"You know what they say about men who use big words: s'all cuz of their little peck-OOOOP, ALSOME?!"
Something quick and naughty and attached to her husband's wrists goosed her in the sides and "Reggie" nearly jumped into their with a yelp. She squirmed and turned and slapped her husband around the shoulder, doing little but drawing a chuckle from him. But her work was done, and she could tell it from that low, gravelly sound. Alsome didn't have much family, not after his father died a few arcs ago. What scattered cousins he did have were mainly in Etzos, and given his family had come from the Outer Perimeter... well...
They're not always the most well-scrubbed folk.
He walked over to the window and beheld his domain. Five acres, neatly tilled and planted, sprouts poking up from the ground already. Eager for the suns, aching to stretch up and embrace the light every day. Two little figures in white scampered and chased and raced up and down the rows, careful not to trample their father's labors. Beets, cabbages, potatoes, tomatoes... and children, apparently.
"Girls?!"! He hollered out the window, causing the two white figures to freeze and turn his way. "Come on back in, now! Dinner'll be ready soon!"
He could have been hearing things, but he was sure he heard the ghost of a "yes, papa!"... from one voice. Probably Nina, the little daddy's girl. Alvian was more of a nodder, he'd noticed. Either way, the two of them started pelting his way, one reaching out the tag one, then speed up as the other gave chase. Alsome smiled as the setting sun caught his beard, his tanned brow, warmed his tired bones and the shoulders bit and mauled by a thousand insects that buzzed around his crops. This was his home. He'd not mind more acres, more help, more money, more of everything they didn't have enough of... but he sighed as he turned back to the inside of the cottage.
"It's having
him here, Reggie," he said, and his wife turned immediately. His tone was not one idly listened to. "He's family, my dad's brother's son, and I know he cares about us. I know he'd never hurt me, or you, or the girls. But..."
There was a silence, but Reggie didn't fill it with anything. She knew Alsome hated it when she did that; it made him snappy and withdrawn. Like if she'd just given him more time, more silence, more ways to find the words before he spoke them, he wouldn't retreat into himself again. So she wiped her hands on a towel and stepped closer to him, watching him scratch at the back of his head, other hand at his hip, staring at that damned, thrice-cleaned table.
"... but every time he comes here," he finished, words coming out a she took his hand "... it feels like he brings something
bad with him."
Reggie reached out and touched one rough cheek. Their eyes met and twenty arcs of marriage seemed like a few seasons ago. Tossing a dowry in with some loans to buy this land, build this cottage, the barn out back, the seeds and tools. Two children buried under the oak tree that towered over all five acres, watching over their babies, loved forever even if they never got to live. Twin girls like night and day, making them feel older than they really were.
All of it was just time. The feeling, the strength, the love and the trust in that glance was what mattered. He sighed and shook his head, feeling like the green boy that courted Miss Ephie's daughter so long ago. "It's silly, I know."
"It's not. This is your home. Your family. Anything bad comes here, you know about it." Her hand patted the side of his neck and she got on her tippy-toes to give him a quick peck. "But he doesn't bring his business here. He's not that careless."
Alsome blinked, and seemed to regard her anew. Careless. Not stupid. Not wrong. Careless. As if it was a professional critique she was making of the man, and not some moral judgement. The farmer cocked his head to one side and wondered what he'd missed in twenty arcs, and what she had yet to surprise him with. Then something whistled wetly behind her and she whirled back to her stove, just as-
"Uncle Kas, Uncle Kas!"
It didn't take long for the reply to come. Lower, slower, deeper and older. Alsome swallowed as he walked to the door, hearing that same badness seep across the back of his neck as he closed his hand around the handle.
"C'mon, girls. I've told yeh before. I'm yer cousin. Fates... yer gettin' big, Alvie."
He's your cousin, he reminded himself, as footsteps stopped outside the door.
He's family, and he's never harmed you. Stop being a fearful fool.
Alsome opened wide the door, and smiled at the neatly-dressed man with the short beard, holding a grinning Alvie in small, strong hands.
"Well, about time!"
Thanks for Jade for the template