We Remember || ONC2022

Chapter Four

Market day was one of the few times that I didn't recognize almost every face on the streets of Saltash. Residents from all over Crone's Bend traveled up and down the cape for our market. Sometimes folk from the cities crossed the canal that divided us from the mainland, either by bridge or ferry.

It was on these days more than any others that I found myself scanning the streets for a sign of my parents. It was irrational, to look for them, but it was instinct. My mother and father hadn't been banished from Saltash. They could visit any time they liked. If they didn't come for my birthday, then it was unlikely that they'd show their faces on market days, but this was the one time I allowed myself to look. Like a ghostly limb, I still felt them. So even though it hurt, as I turned my bike through the bustle of the crowd, I couldn't help but cast my eyes about the square.

When I pulled up at our assigned station, Pim and Una were already there. I scratched down Una's spine to her butt in hello, pulling a little piece of her favorite dried fish from one of the pockets of my dress. I hugged Pim, and she whispered in my ear, "Morning, my beautiful child," which she knew gave me a warm feeling—to be called things like beautiful or pretty. As we put together our display, I noticed that Pim was quieter than usual.

"Everything all right, Auntie?"

"Listen, Wyn," she said. She took a deep breath, stalling, I guessed. Perhaps she'd decided that she did want to live with the Tans after all, and she was worried about my reaction. "I don't want you to be surprised, so I'm telling you now. I've heard from a few villagers that they've seen a wild stallion running along the coast."

"What?" I whipped my head around, nearly dropping a pink beeswax candle on the ground.

"It was spotted early this morning. And some of the fishers saw it late last night."

"My horse?"

"I'm not telling you because I think it's the horse from your dreams, Wyn. It's probably a coincidence. Wild horses aren't unheard of on Crone's Bend. This one is alone, which is unusual, but—"

"He's not alone in my dreams. I'm there, too."

"Wyn..."

"Is it black?" I said.

"You know how gossip travels in this place."

That meant it was. I shook my head and got back to setting up. It was irrational, I supposed, but I was angry that the horse had shown himself to any and every random Saltash resident, but not to me. Here I was performing bedtime rituals, when all I had to do was sit on the beach and wait.

Of course, the fact that the horse in question was real and, not as I'd imagined, symbolic, sent my mind flying on a fisher's line to sea. A real wild horse wouldn't be here for me, but that's how he'd felt in my dreams. And I guess, if I'm honest, I had assumed—hoped—that the dreams were somehow about me and Alder. That seemed silly, now.

As the morning turned to afternoon, I found my usual good humor in short supply. My annoyance grew with every new customer with a tale to tell about the black horse. The topic of the wildstallion was even more popular than Alder's return, which was saying something. I felt stupid, was the thing. The dreams had made me feel special and now I felt anything but, which was an all too familiar feeling for a lonely person. When Dhara Harper stopped by to make an appointment with Pim for a fertility charm, my leg was bouncing enough to rattle the table.

"Others claim it's black," Dhara said. "But I swear what I saw was a great, green beast with fiery eyes and a mane of seaweed—"

"Well, now I know that you're a liar," I said.

"Wyn!" Pim placed a calming hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dhara, I don't know what's with him." That just annoyed me more, to be spoken about as if I wasn't even there, and it took real effort not to shake off her touch. I knew that Pim was just trying to keep her client, so I took a deep breath and ate crow.

"Sorry, Dhara," I said. "Guess I'm feeling a little jealous that I haven't seen this horse myself." That was true enough. I offered Dhara a half-hearted smile. I could tell by the pinched corners of Pim's eyes that it wasn't convincing.

Dhara pursed her lips but then burst out laughing. "Well, Wyn, you wouldn't be the first to accuse me of enjoying a little embellishment."

"What fun's a tale," Pim said. "If you can't add your own color to it?"

"In my case, green, eh?" Dhara laughed at herself. "All right, I'll be on my way. See you next week, Pim. I think Wednesday would be perfect for me and Crane." She gave us a wink and a wave. "Can't wait to tell Am'ma that I was told off by little Selwyn Blackthorn. She always said you were her sweetest student."

Pim grinned at Dhara, waving her off, while she said under her breath to me, "Child, you're lucky you're too old to spank."

A threat of violence wouldn't normally cheer me, but it did now. Pim had never raised a hand to me, not even when she found me on the beach at age eight, swimming under the full moon at midnight. Instead, she'd joined me. I stuck my tongue out at her. Served me right, since I nearly bit it off when I heard a throat clear.

"Alder, hi," I said.

"Hello, Wyn." He thrust his hand forward, holding out a bouquet of wild beach roses, the kind that grew in the Saltash dunes.

"Are those for me?" I said.

"Yes." With his other hand, Alder tugged on the hagstone around his neck.

"Oh, wow," I said. "Thank you, Alder."

With a trembling hand, I took the bouquet of pink flowers. The thorny stems, Alder had wrapped in rough twine, which he had tied into a lopsided bow. It was silly to feel so much about a bunch of wildflowers that I could pick myself on any summer day on the dunes around our cottage. But as I rubbed the leathery, green leaves between my fingers and breathed in the flowers' sweet scent, I could sense Alder's intentions, his admiration. He'd told me that he used to watch me, but I hadn't really believed him until now.

"I wanted to ask," he said. "If you're free tomorrow. To do something with me?"

"Yes! I'd love to do something with you."

"Sure," Pim said. "I can take your afternoon appointment, no problem. Thanks for asking."

"Oh, sorry, Pim." I gave her my best sad, pleading eyes.

She sucked her teeth. "Go on, then. But at lunch time, I'm telling Mary that your portions of squid balls and turon go to me." Those were my favorites, but a worthwhile sacrifice.

"Thanks, Auntie." I turned to Alder with a grin. "I'm free."

"Great." Alder gave me a shy smile, a smile so unlike my memory of his old, toothy grin, yet becoming familiar to me now.

"Did you have something in mind?" I said.

"Not really, but I could really use a break from all of...this." He flung his arm around the square, presumably at the milling people, crowded shoulder to shoulder like barnacles on a wooden pile. As I took a better look at Alder, I realized that he looked undone. His brown curls were pulled to a loose friz, as if he'd yanked his fingers through them repeatedly, and his eyes were ringed in dark circles.

"Well, if that's the case, I've got an idea," I said. "How about I pick you up at eight tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, please." Alder took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. "My father's expecting me back, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

I watched Alder wend his way through the crowded square, his shoulders flinching when someone bumped into him. Alder, who'd always seemed to be friends with everyone, now acted like a stranger in his own village. Whatever had happened to Alder during his lost year, seemed to have followed him home. This newfound friendship was a precious thing to me, and I hoped it offered Alder some comfort from whatever haunted him.

My fingers wrapped around the bouquet he'd given me, and I whispered a charm of abundance to increase the moisture in the stems until I could get them in water. I breathed in the sweetness of the beach roses, their perfume not nearly as heady as the thought of Alder picking them for me.