The gentle cawing of birds sifted through the open pane. The scent of a spring morn and grass clearing the dust and cobwebs. Joy awoke as the breeze drifted across her skin, raising her head from the table which had left its grain upon her cheek. The house was relatively still, which she was thankful of; it meant she had not overslept, or so the thoughts told her as they ran about her still sleep ridden mind. She was exhausted but she was able to find the effort to raise herself from her chair and wander over toward the bedroom.
The fire had gone out; it was cold and the air stagnant. Without a second thought Joy began preparing the fire till she looked over the bed where her Ma lay. Ashen and greying of skin, jaw and muscle loosened, no movement made in the slightest. The logs clattered to the floor as the memories of the day prior made themselves noticed. She at once awoke.
. . . . . . . .
It had been drizzling for days. Dull, water-ladened clouds looming over, showing no sign of surrender. Joy raised her cowl as she glanced around the local farmers stock, it appeared she was searching for something in earnest, but alas the frown of concentration visible upon brow was for an entirely different matter. She had spent many days travelling back and forth from Bree, seeking Miss Leafcutter and fetching various supplies. Though, it was not so unheard of that she didn’t spend some in-frequent time at the Pony, and indeed it was of recent venture there that had caused her to wander the market, seemingly lost in thought.
She was frustrated; this was clear, but to no-one apparent except her own damned thoughts. Cluttered they were, with the thoughts of some fellow, who of course she remembered the name of and every word he said, but alas, that time spent caused her to be late. Late. Late in collecting a litany of medicinal concoctions, after going to the town hall on other business. Now was not the time for her mind to become pre-occupied with such idle thoughts she couldn’t understand herself. And so today she would purchase all that was necessary over the coming days and stay at her mother’s side, forgoing the usual routine that had now become part and parcel of caring for a loved one.
Ada had been in the thrall of a lengthy fever and time away from her side was becoming increasingly difficult. Joy alone was set the duty of fetching and providing and as soon as she set several paces from the homestead she was ridden with guilt. Though, alas, what else could be done? People nearby would often bring around their home-cooking’s and plentiful left-over’s but it simply was not enough. Miss Leafcutter was too busy to set foot out of town, it seemed, and so every other day trips had to be made, if only for the supposed curative herbs...
“Hoy, lass...”
The clicking of fingers seemed to resonate, though it did well to do the job, breaking Joy out of her reverie. She looked at the fellow, now sporting a bemused smile.
“Anything you want from here, eh?”
Joy smiled her usual smile, mostly out of embarrassment as she motioned toward some of the stock. At least her last trip in town had become somewhat fruitful. The basket remained no longer empty, and with a satisfied stride she bore it upon her hip and made for the walk home.
. . . . . . .
“Ma? I’m home; I’ll set some tea and broth to brew.”
The sound of coughing replied as Joy set about to the task.
“So ma, gossip about town... I managed to pick up some sewing work and the likes, finally! I set to it whilst at the Pony waiting for Polly with this cartload of herbs... I spoke with that Miss Cymaru, think she mistook me for someone else mind... heh.”
Joy left the tea boiling and some vegetables stewing as she took a shallow bowl and cloth into the bedroom. She looked at her mother and perched herself at the edge of the bed.
“So how are ye feeling? Anything of note...?”
Her mother removed the cloth from her mouth and shook her head with a weary smile.
“No child, still the same... I feel I could eat though, today.”
Joy smiled, at such the simplest of news, though perhaps it was most significant and a time for ease in passing. She set the dampened cloth to her mother’s forehead,
“Well, that is something! I’m afraid ye may have to put up with... some homemade stuff though, eh?”
Ada pulled a disgruntled face and set her daughter into quiet laughter.
“You’ll eat it none-the-less though won’t ye my dear ma? Because ye have never been one to waste such things and of course ye love me so! Ye would not dare hurt my feelings!”
Ada joined with the laughter herself though shortly stumbled into a fit of coughs as she shook her head.
“Ah, hush Ma... hm, so what other news do I have for ye? Fair little I think... Oh that Miss Thornwell’s with child...”
“She is? Why... how old is she now?”
“Not far from my own age Ma, younger if anything...”
“And here I had wished to see some grand-children of my own befo-... ye will pass on my well wishes eh? My dear?”
Joy settled the cloth and bowl to one side saying a firm, “I will.” As she passed out of the room to the main hearth. She poured two mugs of tea and spooned some rather undesirable stew into a bowl. Placing both onto a tray she settled back into the bedroom, aiding her mother to sit up in bed and offering the bowl. A delicate tasting it was and not long was it before Ada pulled a frightful face.
“Oh child! What is this?”
Joy chuckled and uttered her apologies.
“I am not surprised you haven’t snared a husband yet...”Ada still continued eating, despite the foul taste.
“Neither am I, neither am I...”
“Promise me, you shan’t tell every Tom, Dick and Harry either... they’ll be off for the hills before you know it.”
Joy smiled broadly toward her mother,
“I shan’t, I promise ye... now eat up lest ye starve, hm?”
With the food now gone and tea drunk, Ada fell into a restless sleep whilst Joy sat next to the fire reading a book. Soon her own head began to dip and she let the book clatter to the floor.
. . . . . . . . .
Days had passed and Ada had seemed to be back on the climbs to health. Her coughing had subsided, there was less blood and her fever had quelled. Spring had truly set in, flowers were beginning to blossom and there was a certain scent in the air, one of warmth and pleasantries. Joy had taken a brisk walk upon the breaking of the day to collect a scattering of flowers and some fresh bread from the neighbours further along the road. She revelled in the new warmth and with hope of feasible change as she made her way into the dell where the homestead lies.
She creaked open the wooden door and set a stone to prop it as such, casting her gaze over the house. The smile slipped and the flowers and bread tumbled to the floor. Her mother was laid in the doorway to the bedroom, her lungs choked amongst the sobbing. Joy called out for those nearby to hear as she rushed toward her mother, trying to lift her and calm her.
“What’s happened Joy?” A voice rang through the house from the doorstep.
“Help, please... my ma...”
. . . . . . . . .
Joy lay alongside her mother, holding her gently in her arms. She had become so small... fragile and delicate.
“Right now ma, I wish I could go with you...”
Ada gave her a gentle prod in the ribs and shook her head.
“You mustn’t say so... we all have our time. I want you here.”
They sat in silence for awhile, looking out of the window. The light sparkled off the body of water not too far from the house, gently lapping against the rocks. It was quiet and peaceful and they remained there at each other’s sides.
“I wish you to lead your own life, my dear girl... and make sure it’s plentiful, aye? Don’t wallow... in pain or sorrow, we can’t have that. You have much to give and to be given.”
The sun began to wane and the evening grew on, eyes fell closed and again slumber took them.
. . . . . . . . .
All through the next day, Ada remained quiet, she pulled every last effort into keeping awake but she ebbed in and out of consciousness. Joy remained ever at her side her hand clasped around her mother’s. She hummed and sang to soothe both of them, for they were both ill at ease. For once the darkness of Joy’s eyes did not shadow the sheer fear she felt as she watched her mother slowly slip away from her, in that moment she wore her feelings for all to see and yet only her mother witnessed it. Silence fell over Ada, her breathing stilled and her hold over Joy’s hand loosened. It was then Ada passed, no words spoken between them. Joy remained holding her cold hand awhile ‘til once again the sun waned over yonder. Leaving her mother at rest she left the bedroom and sat in silence staring out of the open window.
