None of the gardens around the houses were completed, revealing the sandy-gray colored soil, but several borders were edged in more gray symmetrical blocks. The new neighborhood gave one the impression that all colors had run out when the Creator came to this part of Edge.
A painting on a large sign showed what the future of the community could be: lush flower beds, different kinds of roofs, and even some houses painted in different colors. But no amount of embellishment could cover the sameness of the designs.
“Just like Idumea,” Perrin muttered in disappointment. “I promise you, I do NOT want that.”
“I agree,” Mahrree whispered. “Let’s drive on.”
But before they could, the door of the small shed flew open and a woman in a black and white bustled out.
Mahrree and Perrin tried their hardest not to, but still they burst out laughing, not at her shimmering dress which, in a blur, would also be gray, but at the enormous hat with a huge feather standing on the top of it which must have been plucked from the largest, ugliest bird in the world.
Desperately trying to regain control of herself as the woman huffed angrily up to their wagon, Mahrree covered her mouth and pinched Perrin hard, causing him to slip a bit off his seat. Almost immediately Perrin plastered a completely somber look on his face. It was one of those times Mahrree was envious of his training.
The woman marched up to them and demanded, “What’s the meaning of all this noise!” Her feather bobbled alarmingly as she practiced her best I’m-as-angry-as-an-ugly-bird impersonation. “I’ll have you know we are expecting someone very important, and you must move this, this excuse of a wagon immediately!”
Perrin was the very model of composure. “Absolutely ma’am. I’m very sorry to have disturbed you. We were only wishing to drive past your lovely homes here.”
Mahrree kept her hand over her mouth. The woman’s feather waved unpredictably even though she had stopped moving, and Mahrree felt spasms of laughter fighting in her chest.
Perrin nodded to her head. “Incidentally, ma’am, a bird of some rather large and aggressive species seems to have impaled your hat. You may want to look into it.”
Mahrree would never admit to snorting in her entire life. But today not only did her husband and the black and white woman hear her, so did half a dozen workers dutifully stacking gray blocks on top of more gray blocks at a nearby house. Several actually stopped working and turned to stare at the noise that originated loudly from Mahrree’s nose.
Perrin took his convulsing wife’s head and pushed it firmly down to her knees. She gratefully took the suffocation in her skirt.
“You’ll please excuse my wife. She hasn’t been well lately. That’s why I’ve taken her out to get some fresh air. Obviously she still needs some more.”
Mahrree was aware that her skirt was developing a new damp patch from the tears of her suppressed laughter. She took a few deep breaths and promptly sat up. If Perrin could do it, so could she.
“I am very sorry. Will you please forgive me?” she asked with her best straight face.
The woman softened a smidge. “Yes, of course,” she said hurriedly. “Now please move your wagon. We’ve heard that the captain of Edge and his wife may be coming by, and we’re trying to make a good impression!”
That was more than Mahrree could handle. She voluntarily put her head back down on her lap and began convulsing again.
Perrin’s voice was full of sympathy and regret. “I am, so very, very sorry for this. Of course we will move immediately.”
Suddenly the door of the shed burst open again, and another woman, massive and jiggling, came flying out.
Mrs. Hili.
Perrin growled quietly and readied to slap the horses into a gallop.
“Captain Shin! Miss Mahrree!” Mrs. Hili panted as she approached them. “I believe there’s been some misunderstanding.”
The black and white woman turned gray as she looked at them “Captain?” she whimpered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said coldly back.
“But you’re not in uniform!”
“On my days off I prefer old leather,” he said tonelessly.
“Of course,” the woman nodded eagerly. “A man like you must be old leather.”
Perrin looked at his wife, wondering what that meant. She could offer no explanation.
Mrs. Hili rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Shattoe, why don’t you go back to the office. I can help the Shins.”
Mrs. Shattoe nodded and seemed happy to get away from the captain as quickly as her tight skirt would allow her to wiggle back to the shed.
“How about a little tour?” Mrs. Hili said with batting eyelashes and the overly-eager tone of someone sure they were about to wheedle gold out of one who claimed they didn’t have any.
Perrin and Mahrree were ready. “We’re not interested in a tour. Only out for a drive today.”
“But surely you want to stretch your legs?” Mrs. Hili went on in a practiced voice, as if their excuse was one of many she was prepared for. “Let the horses take a rest on such a hot—,” she shifted scripts, “I mean, cool day?”
“The horses are quite warm,” Perrin pointed out with the beginnings of a sneer, “so stopping them now would not be a favor to them.”
“They can enjoy our stables, Captain! You see, here at Edge of Idumea Estates, we have—”
Sensing the prologue to a much longer speech than Mahrree wanted to endure, she cut off Mrs. Hili with, “How’s Qualipoe doing today? I’m afraid I might miss his visit later this afternoon if we don’t get back on time.”
That comment threw Mrs. Hili completely off her script. It took a moment for her brain to reengage. “What? Qualipoe? He visits you?”
Mahrree suspected, and feared, his mother had no idea what he did each day.
“I really enjoy his company. I’m wondering what he’ll do when it gets colder, though. I’d love for him to see me every afternoon, until you’re home again.”
Mrs. Hili looked surprised. “Why, I didn’t know he was a frequent visitor.”
“Only every day this past week, when he’s on the way to the fort.”
Mrs. Hili’s eyebrows shot upwards. “The fort? He goes to the fort?” She looked at Perrin for confirmation.
Perrin smiled smugly. “He and his friends watch the soldiers drilling.”
When Mrs. Hili looked confused as to why the soldiers were involved in woodworking, Perrin clarified.
“Practicing. Bow and arrows. Wrestling. Sword play.”
Mrs. Hili eyes grew big.
“Don’t worry,” Perrin assured her. “No one gets hurt, if they do it correctly.”
“Where does he sit?”
“On the fences.”
Mrs. Hili nodded. “So he stays clean. Good boy.”
Mahrree chuckled. “I thought you were worried that he was watching the soldiers! I realize they may not be the best influence—” She stopped as both Mrs. Hili and Perrin glared at her.
Mrs. Hili put her hands on her wide hips. “Who is it, you told me yesterday at the market, that is watching your children today?”
Mahrree knew she was blushing. “A soldier. Look, what I said didn’t come out right.” She tossed Perrin an apologetic glance.
He showed no emotion.
“What I really meant was,” she started hesitantly, then knew what to say. “When it gets colder, the fort won’t be a safe, or rather a clean, environment. Mud and everything.” She glanced quickly at her husband who didn’t seem completely satisfied. “Could Qualipoe stay with me in the afternoons?”
“That’s an interesting offer, Mrs. Shin,” Mrs. Hili said slowly.
Inspiration hit Mahrree like a round rock fleeing the square block invasion before her. “I could tutor Qualipoe to get him ready for the Administrators’ testing.”
That hit its target.
“What an interesting idea,” Mrs. Hili mused. “You know,” her mind starting racing, “you could even have more children ove
r. You could even charge a fee for it!”
She had raced too far, and her face reflected it. Now she was suggesting pay for something that would was free just seconds ago.
“Oh there’d be no charge for Qualipoe, Mrs. Hili,” Mahrree promised.
Mrs. Hili’s entire body slid into relief, and continued to wobble a bit as she spoke. “I could tell others about your tutoring, to help cover your costs.”
Mahrree shook her head. “I don’t see any costs with being a helpful neighbor, Mrs. Hili. I think I would feel awkward taking pay—”
“Oh, you simply don’t get it!” Mrs. Hili cried. “This is wonderful opportunity for you to work at your home!”
“But I’m already working—I have two children. I just want to help. Isn’t that all right?”
Mrs. Hili studied her for a moment. “It’s wonderful that you want to help. Really it is,” she said as if trying to explain to a three-year-old why mud pies were inherently inedible. “But there’s nothing wrong with earning a little more on the side, is there?”
“But if we don’t need more—”
“Everybody needs more, Mrs. Shin!”
Mahrree was about to argue when a new sofa visited her mind. It dropped seemingly out of nowhere and had big cushions made of strong thick cloth. Her entire family was sitting on it, waving to her. It was long and broad enough to accommodate a bear—or her husband who seemed nearly the same size—and the dog. She tried to shake Barker out of her mind and off the sofa. She could barely move him. But the Perrin on the sofa looked amused by the effort.
“You may have a point, Mrs. Hili,” Mahrree said dreamily, until she heard a loud throat clearing noise from her husband.
She looked at him and he held up his hand in questioning.
“I’m sorry, I guess I’m not used to being out in the fresh air,” she chuckled uneasily. “Mrs. Hili, tell Poe he can come by my house anytime, and he can bring his friends, too.”
Perrin tightened his grip on the reins. “We best be moving on, keep the horses warmed up. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Hili.” And he slapped the horses into a trot.
They drove through the new housing division along needlessly winding roads that twisted absurdly. Some even ended abruptly in odd circles, as if making the roads different would help the residents forget their houses were all identical squares.
“So,” Perrin said unexpectedly, “what was all that back there?”
“All what?”
“About needing more?” His voice was losing its insulted edge. “I mean, are you . . . dissatisfied? Don’t I provide enough?”
She clutched his arm and hugged it. “More than enough, Perrin! I don’t know what came over me. I guess just the thought of, I don’t know, maybe doing something more to help you? Our family?”
“We’re fine, Mahrree. We even have slips of gold and silver hidden the cellar, enough to see us through for several seasons or . . . to buy a fraction of one of these houses,” he said slowly.
For a few minutes they drove wordlessly by the new houses, both lost in thought while observing the activity.
A few large homes that could house two dozen people already had occupants. In front of one, standing in their sandy gray dirt, was a couple who were trying to position straggly little trees in interesting ways. It would be years before they could hope for any shade from them, but even so they were optimistically angling the thick sticks to make the most of the anemic shadows they cast on the house.
Mahrree found herself wrestling with an odd mixture of feelings as she observed a group of builders constructing a tall, perfectly smooth wall going up to heights she had never seen dared before in a house. She inexplicably imagined herself moving her whole family into one of those monstrosities and considered how to place their books and Perrin’s maps along the walls in such a deliberately artful arrangement that even her mother would have been proud. She even mentally tore one of Perrin’s ancient maps to fit better in a narrower space between two windows.
Something snapped in her brain.
Why would she do that?! She tried to shake the guilt out of her head for considering tearing Perrin’s map and consigning their best friends—their books—to serve as mute works of art on tall shelves. Why would she suddenly picture herself in the largest house in Edge? For what purpose?
She squirmed.
To find herself so immediately gripped with envy and desire surprised her. These houses weren’t worth it. Worth anything, she reminded herself. Her home was made by the villagers and now also her husband. Each board reminded her of someone who helped sand it down or nail it in. Each lopsided glop of mortar on the stones seemed to have a story associated with why it was that way. Every irregularity of the rock reminded her of the diverse personalities who helped place it.
But these ordinary houses? They had no character at all, and they probably cost ten bags of silver rather than only one.
It seemed unfortunate to place such a high value on uniformity.
Another house they passed was being painted by two workers under observation of a husband and wife around the age of the Shins. Of all the colors the Creator made to lighten and brighten the world, the owners had chosen a shade of gray slightly darker than the blocks.
Leaning against the house waiting to be installed were shutters that seemed to be utterly inadequate. They were not nearly wide enough to actually shield the windows in case of a severe storm or heat. And the color of them was an even darker shade of gray.
A bright yellow, Mahrree thought, would be so much more interesting. Perhaps even a deep red, or a pale blue. But gray? What kind of mentality—
“That’s absurd!” Perrin muttered suddenly. “Gray paint? Who actually spent slips of silver on that?”
Mahrree laughed as his disparaging tone. “Thank you!” she sighed. “I needed that.”
“Why? What were you thinking?”
“About . . . moving here,” she confessed. “Only for a moment.”
Perrin leaned away from her and looked her up and down as if she was a complete stranger. “Why?!”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I suddenly pictured myself here and started thinking how much we could really do with a place like this.”
“Such as use four times as much wood to heat the house?”
“Well, no, I hadn’t considered that. Of course it’s ridiculous. But it’s so strange, I didn’t even know this place existed days ago, then within minutes I suddenly find myself wanting it. I mean, why would I be so quick to fall in love?”
Perrin gave her a sidelong glance. “Clarify, please.”
Mahrree laughed and nudged him. “I meant, fall in love with these houses! Not you. It took me several weeks to decide to love you.”
He smiled slightly. “I thought you loved me the first time you saw me. I remember very well that look on your face when I first stepped on the platform.”
“What I felt was attraction. It took me a few weeks to decide if I wanted to love you.”
Perrin chuckled. “So, being attracted to one of these gray blocks imported from the dubious home of creativity known as Idumea—does this mean you’re no longer satisfied with what the Creator has chosen to bless us with?”
“Well, when you put it that way now I feel doubly guilty,” she confessed. “We have exactly what we need, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do,” he said, his voice a little unsure. “For now.”
Mahrree turned to look at him. “What do mean, for now?”
His shoulder twitched and he sat taller, looking around the gray landscape.
“What are looking for?”
“Administrators,” he mumbled. “This place feels so bleak that for a moment I wondered if we drove too far south and were in Idumea.”
“Not yet,” she smiled. “Why?”
“Well, when you were talking about Poe with Mrs. Hili, it got me wondering . . . you miss teaching, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “Not so much, but I do miss kno
wing what’s going on. I feel like a dull knife. I used to be sharper. I’m completely out of touch. Having children like Poe around, I can at least gauge what’s happening in the school. Maybe I should take Poe and some other children in for the afternoons. It seems so strange,” she added vaguely.
Perrin waited for her to finish. When she didn’t—too lost in her own thoughts where he couldn’t interrupt her and force her to draw different conclusions—he said, “What’s strange?”
“All the changes, and so quickly. Maybe it’s been happening gradually and we simply didn’t notice because it was all around us, sneaking up slowly. But since we’ve been away for some time in our own little world with the children, it’s as if I can see things differently now. And I don’t like it, Perrin.”
He sighed in agreement. “I know what I’ve seen in Idumea and it just didn’t feel right. Just my gut feeling. Not a very logical argument, I know. And now it seems it’s coming here. I guess there’s no stopping ‘progress’.”
“There’s nothing wrong with following a gut feeling, Perrin. Sometimes that’s the best guide,” she decided. “True, feelings aren’t logical, but if they’re from the Creator, you best follow them. He tends to know a bit more than we do.”
Perrin was silent as the horses plodded out of the development and along the dirt road between the wide open fields outside of Edge. “Well, I hope my feelings are from the Creator. Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish.”
Mahrree thought about that. “Do you regret following your feelings to Edge?”
“No,” Perrin answered instantly. “Never.”
“Then you followed the right feelings, correct? And if everything turned out well, the feelings were inspired by the Creator.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” he whispered mysteriously. “Mahrree,” he continued, his voice unexpectedly heavy, “speaking of children and school . . . have you considered Jaytsy going to full school? That will be the only option when she’s six, I’m sure of it.”
Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge) Page 15
