Darkest Pattern- The Door

by Riva Zmajoki

  Still, in the meantime, she had to wait and wait.

  With Evan by her side, they would always go and earn a living to send money to her grandchildren to get by.

  Now that motivation was gone. Evan supported his family and she was left on her own.

  There was not much that she needed but the lack of human contact was getting to her.

  That’s why she washed herself in a stream, dusted her clothes, combed her hair and went to the town in search of a job.

  “A woman on her own needs a job to protect her. In fact, not having a husband around enables you to take care of yourself. A good profession is what you need,” her father said.

  “What I need is my husband,” she said firmly. “He’ll take care of me. You promised. Evan is big enough.”

  “I did promise,” he sighed. “Here’s his directions, I’ll pay the carriage in both directions and two of our servants will accompany you. You are a lady of this house.”

  Belva stared at the paper.

  “You gave him our name, Durant,” she said confused.

  “Well he didn’t have a surname of his own. This way, if I was wrong, you’ll share a family name and still be connected to us.”

  “If you’re wrong, I won’t get back,” she said firmly.

  “You will, because you’re a good mother. You’ll come back for Evan.”

  “I’ll take him with me,” she was angry.

  “No,” was all that he said. “He’ll be safe here. If you’re smart, you won’t tell him about Evan before you’re sure he’s worthy of your life.”

  “He is worthy,” she lifted her chin high. “We’ll return together to claim our son.”

  She went proudly anticipating the reunion.

  She ended up in Kentucky standing on the other side of the road watching him walk his children through shops. He lifted his head and saw her there. His eyes were cold. They didn’t lit up in a greeting, he didn’t even acknowledge her but by a small wave of his head signalling her not to come over, not to expose him.

  He kept walking ignoring her and she watched him leave.

  She cried in the carriage back but had no tears before her father.

  “I didn’t find him,” she said and he just nodded accepting her answer without pushing it.

  She went and learned how to sow.

  “I’m a quite good seamstress,” she said at the door of a local boutique.

  “My dear, neat stitches are hard,” Mrs Huffing, the owner of the boutique looked down at Belva. “That is a skill that isn’t easy to develop.”

  “Let me show you,” Belva insisted and the woman complied.

  By her stare, Belva knew that Mrs Huffing is just waiting for Belva to make a fool of herself but as soon as Belva started sewing her expression changed.

  “My new sewing machine is much quicker than you. I can’t let you handle its delicate machinery but I could use an extra pair of hands. You can do things that the machine can’t do,” Mrs Huffing said gesturing towards a shiny new machine Belva didn’t seen before.

  “I wouldn’t dare to touch that,” she said when she saw how quickly the needle moved. “I’ll do dresses in the old fashioned way, they look better that way anyway.”

  Mrs Huffing shrugged her shoulders taking the fabric from Belva’s hand.

  “There is a small room upstairs,” Mrs Huffing said when she examined Belva’s work. “I’ll deduct the rent from your pay. I don’t allow male guests.”

  “Only my son might visit briefly,” Belva said stiffly.

  “A son?” Mrs Huffing looked at her with suspicion.

  “Yes, he has a family up north.”

  “To that, I can agree if he doesn’t come to live with you. I can’t stand the noise that men make.”

  Belva just nodded and took the key.

  The following days she carefully brought in her packages from her lady. They piled in the corner and soon Belva was comfortable in that new room of her own.

  She sewed by day and by night slept well by the sounds of the town around her.

  Instead of dreary dreams of slavery, Belva started to dream of her lady. Those dreams were embarrassing and the way she was flustered waking up from them was just shameful.

  Still, those dreams Belva didn’t try to chase away. They made her feel warm inside like there was joy in this world still.

  Her routine became steady.

  She worked on dresses daily and then took a break to visit her ‘son’ up-north. If she would tear her dress or fall in mud on her journey towards freedom she would have a story of clumsiness or robbers ready for Mrs Huffing.

  Everything seemed to always be the same. There was safety in the routine and Belva almost felt normal, like she has a life like everyone around her.

  One day she was working on a dress. The dress was beautiful but it was lacking something extra. A bow of a certain colour would complete it.

  Belva searched all through the show but couldn’t find anything that would suit. That’s why she went upstairs and opened her packages. There was a ribbon on the bottom of one of the parcels that would just fit.

  She unpacked almost everything just to find it on the bottom of the last package.

  The ribbon fitted perfectly so Belva made a bow but just before she cut it she paused.

  It felt wrong to give her lady’s gift for some other woman to wear. She wanted to remove it but at that moment Mrs Huffing came in.

  “That’s perfect,” she exclaimed and approached the dress. “That’s exactly what the dress was lacking.”

  Mrs Huffing took scissors from Belva’s hand and cut it.

  “Where did you get this? I don’t remember purchasing this colour, the fabric is really fine. I rarely use this kind of material.”

  “I had one in my supplies,” Belva said flatly looking at the remaining piece of ribbon.

  She wanted to snatch it from Mrs Huffing hand but it seemed abrupt and rude.

  “Where did you get it? We could get some more,” the ribbon disappeared in the drawer.

  “It was long ago, I really can’t remember,” Belva lied.

  “Pity,” Mrs Huffing turned the manikin around. “If you find some more I’m ready to buy it off of you.”

  “I’ll tell you if I find more,” Belva said and withdrew.

  In her room, there was a mess of fabrics, threads, bows and buttons. She could earn a decent sum if she would sell it but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  She sat on her bed looking at the mess around her. Evan was right. She can’t carry it around with her and there was a real danger that all of it will, piece by piece, be used on someone else’s dresses to be worn by a strange woman that meant nothing to Belva.

  Belva looked at the mess trying to envision how to use them, how to save them from scissors that would just carelessly spread them around town for Belva to look at them on passing women to think of what she can’t have.

  Looking at the fabrics, her mind started to work. Soon she could see a design. Belva smiled and soon she would be sewing long into the night.

  Josephine was surprised when the first response to her letters came. She didn’t expect any reply.

  First to reply, was the aunt. Of course, she did.

  Josephine decided that she’ll erase her name from her heart. Her letter was understood like an attempt of blackmail. She threatened Josephine with excommunication, expulsion and persecution. If Josephine ever repeats her ‘lies’, there will be many calamities sent her way. The letter was burnt upon arrival.

  Josephine’s first reaction to the letter was shocking, then there was anger, and finally the relief and laughter. Josephine was now free from another fixation, from the belief that she was the perfect woman. Anyway, her name will be erased and she won’t be mentioned again, she didn’t deserve the breath used to form letters.

  Other replies kept coming. Not in the number in which the letters were sent, but it was enough of them. Some of them were threatening like the first one, s
ome touching and sentimental, some indifferent and one piety letter from a nun.

  That last one shocked Josephine. The nun told Josephine that she prays for her daily for ten full years. That letter Josephine put away carefully as it will explode in her face. It stirred deep discomfort within Josephine’s chest.

  She received few ordinary letters with reports of changes, births and weather. That was from the women from the third wave of letters. On the end of those lines stood ‘with love’, the rest of them didn’t include that kind of courtesy, not even the sentimental ones.

  Because of that stream of letters, the contents of the package caught her off guard. The package came without any inscription by currier and without any note to explain it. Of course, Josephine just thought that it came from one of her previous lovers so she opened it with caution.

  Josephine wasn’t wrong, the package was from a former lover, the last one, the only one.

  With glee, Josephine dived her hands in the box and pulled out her gift.

  Josephine stood there and just stared in the gift Belva has sent her. Her heart pounded from excitement. It was like Belva stands beside her.

  Belva sewed her a dress, with her hands. Josephine caressed seamless joins. The dress was made from the ribbons, materials and threads which Josephine sent her in the sacks of runaways. They reached Belva, they all were received.

  Josephine pressed the dress against her body not carrying for the way the dress was constructed. She didn’t care will it fit her or not. All that mattered was Belva’s hands made it, it was like they are touching over the fabric that went through her hands.

  Josephine summoned Sue to help her dress up. Only when Sue left, Josephine stood before the mirror. It fitted perfectly. The seamstress that would measure Josephine would have to go through a few fittings before the dress would follow Josephine’s body with satisfaction, but never this perfectly.

  The colours of the dress were combined in surprising patterns. There were gold and brown, a bit of red and pink, and green edges. Still, everything came together in a lively composition. The cleavage was high presenting Josephine’s breasts discretely. Josephine lifted her chin up feeling dignified.

  If Josephine knew that Belva would make a dress for her, she would send fabrics closer in patterns and colours but maybe it was best this way.

  Josephine caressed the curves of the skirt and her hand stumbled upon the hidden edge of a pocket. She put her hand in the pocket and its shape seemed familiar to Josephine. She took the pistol from the dresser, on which it spent its days since the Major-Domo left.

  The pistol slid into the pocket and fit in it perfectly. It was invisible and safely tucked away but within reach. Josephine patted the weapon and then tested it in movement.

  Even when she sat, it was still invisible.

  Josephine examined the dress searching for its secrets. There was nothing except an opening on the waist, but that wasn’t a pocket. It was positioned on Josephine’s side and quite clumsily so. Josephine could barely reach it. She couldn’t think of a use for it so she just let it be.

  Once again she stood before the mirror and lifted her hair. That made her realize just how much she let herself down. There was no reason for her to care for how she presents herself to the world. Her world consisted of her servants and runaways.

  Josephine enjoyed her gift. It brought joy to her and she stopped to think of letters, of the bonfire, of paintings or her husband. She focused on the present and made an effort not to think too much of Belva, her gift or what it meant. It was too hard to sustain any sort of hope and too devastating to give up on it.

  It was more than little satisfying to find that her lady wore the dress Belva made for her. It wasn’t hard to recognize it from descriptions the runaways would give to Belva.

  Besides stories that refugees would bring to her Belva had sent out messengers to bring her news of patrol-men and their plans.

  In the midst of small pieces of information that got to her came one name.

  “Luiz Terdreau will be back this month, he wasn’t satisfied with the way the investigation ended the last time,” Santos said and Belva just nodded.

  Luiz Terdreau was still at her trail. The son of a man that she killed. The son that wanted her Evan for his birthday was at her trail always searching for her.

  That meant that his pursuit was strictly after her and not her railroad network. Maybe she should leave her post to someone else, someone who isn’t sought out by law.

  Still, that meant that her lady was in danger too.

  “Keep an eye on him,” she said finally. “If he moves I want to know.”

  What hope could Belva have to counter his actions when she didn’t dare to go into his domain anymore?

  The routine was established between the aid to refugees and their daily tasks. Her three maids Sue, Cynthia and Tricia, Eddy, the boy that grew, Ina that learned to talk and Josephine functioned on their own just fine.

  The change came in with a man. Sue’s fiancée William came, just like he said he would, his draft has ended and he showed up on their door.

  He just strode in on the kitchen door still in his uniform. He was taller and older than the boy who left, his beard was thicker but that was still the same.

  His stride faltered when he saw them all together.

  There was some time since Josephine ate with her servants in the kitchen. No one came to visit except the runaways. They either needed some form of care or would just scout in the corner waiting for the time to pass.

  Josephine became familiar with her maids, they were her only company. Josephine closed up the parts of the house to diminish their chores and to pass by them more often.

  He paused when he found them like that, together.

  Sue lifted her gaze and just smiled like he left yesterday as she expected of him to come in at any given moment. The soldier lingered for a moment looking at Josephine but then they approached each other and hugged.

  Suddenly, the world upturned once again. It wasn’t Sue the one who was stupid, all the rest of us were. She was right, the boy returned. He returned.

  Josephine excused herself and withdrew to her room where she was washed over with anxiety. She became too dependent upon Sue, too attached for Ina and now they’ll leave with some bearded man.

  She curled up in her bed and cried for some time.

  “I’m getting old,” she told herself when her tears dried out. “I’m getting old and I don’t know how many changes I can take before I give up.”

  In the morning, she put on her colourful dress, her gift which she started to call her battle dress, the one that enables her to face the world. Sue came in with Ina and they sat in the armchair across Josephine. Sue sat without waiting for permission and looked at Josephine like they were equals.

  Josephine thought that they probably always were equals.

  At that moment, looking her across the room, Josephine saw Sue as a girl, as a daughter she never had, she was just the right age.

  If she was, now it would be time to let her go to leave with a strange man to build her uncertain future. She would be obligated to do that. Will she do less for Sue? Josephine thought of all things Sue did for her over the past months. There were a lot of good deeds without many words spoken. Even now, she waited for Josephine to speak first.

  “What does he offer you?” Josephine said finally.

  “A home, a small house and some land.”

  Josephine nodded staying silent.

  “He wants us to go straight away,” she added caressing Ina’s hair avoiding Josephine’s stare.

  “No,” Josephine said abruptly and Sue lifted her head surprised.

  “You want us to stay?” there was a bitter taste to her words but she seemed willing to think about it.

  “No,” Josephine shook her head. “There is nothing here for you, just danger and death. Ina needs a home, a father, a childhood. That isn’t here but you won’t go straight away. I won’t let you,
not until you’re married, here, before my eyes.”

  Sue opened her mouth surprised but then nodded slowly.

  “He showed us that he’s reliable, he did return. Still, you have a small child and I feel responsible for her. Marriage and then you can go as you should, as the world will accept you.”

  Sue’s eyes swelled with tears so she shook her head to chase them away. She got up offering Ina to Josephine to hold. Josephine got up to take her but then instead reached out and hugged the silly Sue that believed in love and fidelity. She accepted and they ended up in an embrace, the three of them.

  “I’ll tell her stories about you,” Sue said. “She will know what a great woman is her godmother. If you want to be her godmother. We’ll baptise her after the wedding.”

  “I’ll be honoured.”

  Josephine held Ina during the ceremony of the wedding and after she was baptised. The whole time she cried looking inappropriate in her battle dress. Everything was inappropriate.

  Even the priest made the sign of cross three times when he crossed Josephine’s threshold. The whole time he held himself like he’s a hero who descended in pits of Hell. The shock on his face couldn’t be missed when Josephine stepped out as a godmother to Ina.

  Josephine paid him upfront heftily so he did the ceremony without a comment. All he did was to secretly spray the holy water around the walls and doors. Josephine didn’t mind that. There was a nun who was praying for her daily with tears in her eyes. Some holy water was nothing compared to that.

  While Josephine watched them go into the rainy dawn her husband’s face came before her eyes, hopefully, for the last time. The moment came to her, the one when he opened his mouth and told her that he doesn’t want to have children with her because she’s wicked.

  “Darling,” Josephine answered him with a whisper now with a whisper and without the despair, she felt back then. “I’m glad that I didn’t birth your children because you’re more crooked than I’ll ever be. I’m pleased that your line ended with you.”

  Then she turned away from Sue and Ina that went smaller and smaller. The other two maids stood there for some time more, crying.