Where the three entered was the kitchen. It was lovely and light. But on the floor were a few crumbs and dirt, and the oven was greased and stained. Not to mention the stack of dishes by the sink. A pack of bullets was set on the table with a belt falling over the back of a chair. Somehow a loose chicken got in. Tess took it by the wings and shooed it out the door.

“Make yourselves at home. Sorry for the current condition. We don’t usually have guests over.”

“That’s alright. Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Lilian gratified. “We’ll be out of your hair soon if you could so kindly direct us to a gas providing facility.”

“Oh… The nearest convenience store is some miles from here, in town. And right now Jase has the wagon. And aren’t you tired and all?”

Tessaline sounded a tad lonely. Lilian and Paul were exhausted and were frankly relieved that she said that.

“So, you’ll let us stay?” Lilian inquired.

“Yes. Yes. Please.”

“Then we’ll have to get our stuff. We left it all in the car.”

“If Jase doesn’t come back soon, we’ll deal with all that ourselves. Hopefully, it’s not much, or that’ll be multiple trips.”

“Yes. Hopefully not.” Paul eyed Lilian.

Tessaline went over to the sink and rinsed off the dead hare, then plopped it down on the table beside the window. She sat a knife and cleaver right next to it. Then she looked up at Lilian.

“You know how to skin a hare?”

Lilian gulped and shook her head. Her stomach twisted inside out.

“No, Gracie’s always done that. She’s the maid.”

“Well unfortunately for you, we don’t have maids here.”

“Do I have to watch?”

“No.”

Lilian sighed.

“You’re gonna help me.”

Paul made a funny nasally sound as he tried not to laugh.

“You’re helpin’, too,” Tess added.

Suddenly the smile left his face.

They started cooking at four. Paul did the honors of skinning and butchering the hare since Lilian couldn’t come around to it. Tess showed Lilian how to chop the vegetables. She was a very good teacher though patience wasn’t a virtue she minded.

At five, they were half done, but it was rapidly getting darker outside. So while the stew slowly cooked on the stove, Paul and Lilian brought in their baggage. And it did take many trips. Tess then showed them to their rooms. They walked down the short hallway just beyond the kitchen.

“Here is our guest bedroom.” Tess showed Paul a small room with no window. There was a low bed that faced a skinny wardrobe and took up most of the space. A nightstand/dresser stood by the bed holding up an ugly-looking pink lamp which was the only light source for the poor room. At the foot of the bed was a swampy green trunk. The wallpaper was bland and did not match the rug. But at this point, a clean, comfortable, ugly room was much better than a cramped car.

Paul walked in with his suitcases. Lilian followed.

“Uh, uh,” Tess halted. “You think I’d let you in there with him?”

“We wouldn’t do anything wrong,” Lilian asserted. “We are El’s beloved.”

“I don’t care if you’re Girgum’s beloved. I ain't leaving nothing to chance.”

“Completely understandable,” Paul agreed. “And we respect that.” He stressed his words, looking at Lilian as if to say “Don’t mess this up”.

“Go on Lilian.”

Lilian reluctantly complied. She watched as his door shut on her.

“Boo!” Tessaline shouted, making Lilian jump. “Ha, ha. Come see. You’re gonna like my room.”

The room right across from Paul’s was Tess’s. It looked much better. There was a window, a desk and chair, a tall mirror sitting against the wall, and a wide enough wardrobe for two. The bed was queen-sized but wasn’t in the way, since the space was bigger.

“It’s nothin’ fancy. But it’s home.”

Lilian unloaded all her stuff there, but since it was only supposed to be one night, she did not unpack. However, she was curious to see just how much closet space they had. Opening the wardrobe, she was surprised to see a beautiful ivory dress hanging from the rod amongst the other not-so-polished clothing Tessaline owned. It looked expensive. Lilian brushed her hand down the feathers of the bodice. Very nice quality, she thought. Surely not merely a Sunday best. It always made Lilian smile to see a pretty dress. Even if it was not as extravagant as her own.

On the other side of the wardrobe were presumably Jase’s clothes. Lots of cotton shirts with overalls or plain-looking pants. But as if symmetrically, one expensive suit.

Tessaline walked by just as Lilian closed the doors. She peeped into the room, gasping anxiously, “What was that?”

“Nothing, it was just—”

“You didn’t look in there, did you?”

Lilian was getting the feeling that she probably was not supposed to be looking in the wardrobe. “No,” she bit her lip.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I didn't look in there,” she bit it again.

Lilian watched Tessaline’s face to see if she’d buy her lie. She did.

“If you’re done I need help cleaning up.”

The pot continued to heat on the stove. Tessaline wiped the tables and cleaned the cooking utensils while Lilian swept up the mess on the floor.

“Wow,” exclaimed Tess. “I have to say. Didn’t know you’d be so handy with the broom.”

“Well, we only have one maid back home. So I help out as much as I can. That is— when I’m not away at school.”

Tess scoffed. “What— your parents couldn't afford more workers?”

“Actually my parents are dead.”

“Oh, is that why you’re wearing all black?”

“No. This is for my late uncle. Passed away a week ago. He taught me to rely more on my own hands than others.”

Tess raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, I am so sorry. Having you clean up my kitchen, and you’re in the middle of mourning.” She tried to take the broom from Lilian’s hands.

“No, it’s alright. That is why I’m here. To move on. As he moved on.”

“Boy, you sure are stronger than I am. Took me weeks just to get out of bed when my mother died. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“That’s about the age I was when she died.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just know you’re doin’ alright.” She patted Lilian’s shoulder.

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-one.”

At around seven, the stew was finally done and the savory smell pervaded every room. Paul, Lil, and Tess gathered at the table in the center of the kitchen. Tess was already traveling a spoonful of meat to her pie-hole when Lilian said, “Let’s pray.”

Lilian reached out an arm to both Paul and Tess. Paul took hold without hesitation. Tessaline participated to not be rude. They bowed their heads.

Lilian began, “Good Father, El. We thank you for the dear help that came to us. Tessaline. We know you sent her like a wind to our rescue. Be good to her, Father. We thank you for a new friend”— Lilian took in a long whiff of the delicious aroma— “Mm, and the divine meal we have in front of us tonight. Oh, and take care of Mister Jase, as he makes his way home.”

Say it. That voice from earlier spoke again. Lilian questioned it. Was this the time to expose herself? Did she trust Paul enough? Did she trust Tessaline at all?

“For Shersul’s sa—”

The moment she said that, hands let go.

“Lilian!” Paul shouted in apalment.

“So you are those types of people. Shersul followers!” Tess accused.

“No. No, this is a joke, right?” asked Paul anxiously.

Lilian was again enduring what she dreaded most. Now even Paul was looking at her the way the people did at the funeral or the ball. Now she had to be brave, stare into those eyes of his, and tell him what she believed.

“I believe Shersul is the Elson.”

Paul brought two tented hands to his mouth, calming himself.

“Lil. When has this ever been true? You never once told me.”

“I hadn’t realized that till recently. Shersul was a mentor to me long before I met you. He was a friend to Auntie and Uncle. I knew you were an El’s Beloved but only now I realized you never believed in Shersul. You were always such a technical boy, Paul. So, I was afraid to say it knowing I could not corroborate myself.”

“Well, if you can’t corroborate yourself…”

Paul stopped his sentence, being interrupted by the sound of Tess’s loud smacking and slurping as she nonchalantly ate her jackrabbit stew. Paul squinted at her rudeness. Tess looked him straight in the eye and loudly slurped to her heart's content, batting her eyes and looking up like she was being possessed with each slurp.

Lilian had to laugh at her spontaneity. Soon Paul could not help but at least smile at Tess’s humor.

Tessaline giggled, “Y’all sittin’ there arguing when we got good, hot food in front of us. Food we made together. Eat.”

They each tasted their cooking. It was amazing. The soft carrots added a hint of sweetness. And garlic and chives really boosted the flavor of the meat. It wasn't too salty, either. For a while, everyone was quiet, savoring the taste.

“What do you think Tess?” asked Paul, breaking the silence. “About our conversation?”

Tessaline gulped down a huge piece of something, then licked her red lips.

“I honestly don’t care and don’t know why you care. El hasn’t done a thing for me, Shersul hasn’t done a thing for me.”

“But to live in such a lovely house, that alone is something to be thankful for,” Lilian argued.

Tess looked down at her plate. “This house ain’t mine. Jase and I pay rent to a mean man, Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas keeps tryna put his hands on me or rile up Jase. Usually both. Every day we come closer to losing it.”

“Your minds or the house?”

“Both.” Tess beat her chest and belched. “Also, most the town hates me.”

“Why?”

Tess shrugged. “‘Cause I speak my mind, don’t congregate, and because I live with Jase.”

“Well, I admire your entitlement,” Paul said, swishing his wooden cupful of cranberry juice around, “but even I’d question your judgment. Doesn’t mean I hate you.” He looked into his cup and took a skeptical sip. “Got any wine?”

“Easy for youda say,” Tess returned. “I bet you know nothing about hate. I bet they powdered your behind all throughout life.”

And strangely, for the first time in all the years Lilian knew him, Paul actually seemed to care about Tessaline’s remark. “Don’t pretend to know me.” He then continued eating as though he was never bothered.

But Tessaline was not going to let him off easy. “Stiff.”

Paul’s eyes opened wide. Lilian gasped at Tessaline’s audacity. Stiff? Paul Partridge is never a stiff.

"Uncouth," he returned.

"Uppity."

“I think you’ve forgotten yourself.”

“I think you forgot whose house you're sitting in.” Her slender nose blushed and flared.

“It’s not yours.”

“Paul!” Lilian scolded.

But Tessaline was already blinking back tears. She sniffed and sighed. “This is why we don’t take guests.” Then she got up from the table, taking her plate with her. “When you're done, you can bring your plates up here.”

Later during bedtime, Lilian was brushing her curls in front of Tess’s long mirror. Every girl’s bedtime ritual. A fire kindling in the close fireplace. She was thinking of Uncle Fred. Trying to remember his features.

As time progressed, she was forgetting him more and more. And her freshest memory of the man was his stiff, gray body when he died. Aunt Krishta should never have let her see that. Now it was all she could see when she thought of him. But in truth, Lilian would have never come to grips with it unless she did see. She needed a chance to accept his death. His passing.

Aunt Krishta’s words floated in her mind: “Remember, he’s in a better place, now.” And maybe he was, but Lilian was not. She had to deal with the grief. Though his spirit lived on in Aversum (hopefully), maybe it felt right to say he’s just dead. To feel as though both persons suffered something. But that would be terrible.

After his death Lilian found herself looking in the photo album frequently to remember him. But she found there was always something missing; his color. The black and white photos only made him look just as lifeless as his gray corpse. What could she do for such a dilemma? Her aunt told her to face a mirror. “When I look at you,” she’d say, gently landing her soft palms on Lilian’s shoulders, “I see him. Do you?”

Lilian stared at her reflection intently. She searched for a glimmer of his soul, a spark of his nature. For a moment, she said nothing. Not answering yes or no until she found it. Her face was still. I don’t see. But she thought about his face; how he always seemed to her. He always held a blissful grin. Then she raised her heavy cheeks into a smile. There it was. Her lips quaked. Her breath shook.

“Yes!” she squealed as she covered her face to cry.

Her aunt turned her around. Guarding her from her own reflection.

“There, there.”

So tonight, that’s what she was doing. Looking for Fredrick Truit in her.

Tess walked into the room, breaking Lilian’s thoughts.

“That’s a lot of hair, Rapunzel.”

Lilian smiled at her through the mirror. “It’s a beauty and a pain.” She began braiding one side.

Tess sat on the edge of her bed. “I thought about dyeing my hair your color a few times.”

Lilian dropped her hands from their braiding action. “No, never do that! It looks beautiful the way it is.”

Tessaline laughed, “It was only a thought. You see, my father had dark hair.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You actually look more like him than I did.” She frowned. “I always thought that maybe if I looked like him or talked like him, then…”

“Then, what?” Lilian asked.

Tess stared at her wardrobe for a moment. “Nothing.”

Lilian didn’t know Tess, and Tess owed her no information. But for some reason, she felt she would do anything to know what was bothering her. But then she reminded herself: Everyone has secrets. Even me.

Still, those words of Tessaline’s spoke breadth. “If I looked like him…” She didn’t see her father in her. How unfortunate.

She finished both sides of her head in silence. Tessaline surprisingly stayed, watching Lilian plaid the roots down to the ends, and then tie a ribbon around each end. Poor Tess. She had nothing more to do. She sat there humming to herself in a quiet but beautiful melody. Lilian wanted very much to start a conversation. What to say?

“You made a mistake coming to Brord,” Tessaline blurted.

Lilian crept over to the bed, wrapping one arm around the post. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s nothing here for a young girl like you. Everyone here is… unremarkable.”

“Good,” Lilian breathed a cool breath of relief. “I’m not as remarkable as you would think.” She sat on the bed next to Tess. “And it’s lady, now. I’m no longer a little girl.”

Tessaline squinted at Lilian like she did the first time they met. No doubt trying to assess the strange girl who came from wealth yet worked with her hands and was only 16 yet spoke with such assertion. In a way, she reminded her of herself. She tested her speculation and prejudice immensely.

“No.” Tessaline shook her head agreeably, “You’re no li’l girl. But you are remarkable. I can tell.”

Lilian grinned just a bit, still not fully accepting Tessaline’s words. But she felt something heartfelt pass between her and Tessaline. In truth, this was her most successful encounter with another girl and the most she’s ever had in common with one. It was too soon to say whether this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship or any friendship for that matter, but Lilian knew she was glad to have met Tessaline.

Tess’s attention diverted to the window.

“Tess? Do you miss Mr. Jase?”

She regarded Lilian, “Well, sure I’m missin’ him. He’s been coming home late a lot, now. I wish I knew why.”

“Have you seen his barber recently?”

“Why?”

“My Aunt says it’s the best way to know the latest news about a man. They tell their barbers everything.”

Tess laughed, “That would be great advice, I’m sure. Only, Jase hasn’t been to the barbershop in weeks.”

“Oh.”

Tessaline brought her legs into a crisscross position. Lilian mirrored her.

“How do you feel about Paul?” Tess grinned mischievously.

Lilian froze. She knew she was blushing pink. And soon her head bowed as she smiled bashfully.

“Oh, I knew you had a thing for him.”

“Don’t say a word.”

“I’d never.” Tess put one hand on her heart and held up the other solemnly. A twinkle of glee in her pretty eyes; a stark contrast to the blankness of them back in the forest. “But he probly knows just as well as I do.”

“Well,” Lilian scoffed, “if he does, he should tell me his feelings, first. He knows I have no current suitors. It shouldn’t be long before he tells me.” Lilian nodded at her own statement. Paul was a gentleman. Surely, he wouldn’t do all this for her if he didn’t love her.

“Mm, in the short time I’ve known you two, I think I can say that if he really cared about you, he would have said it by now. He clearly isn’t afraid to speak his mind.”

Lilian shook off Tess’s absurdity, suggesting it was rooted in anger. “I do hope you are not angry with him, still,” said Lilian. “He can tend to frustrate people unintentionally. I’m one of the few who can handle it.”

Tess shrugged. “Who cares what I think? If you like the pompous, that’s your prerogative.”

Lilian’s brows scrunched together. “He’s no pompous. Really, he isn’t. Paul is the sweetest once you get to know him.”

“But I don’t wanna know him.”

Lilian wasn’t sure why she suddenly cared so much that Tessaline gave Paul a chance. Once this night was over, none of them had any further business with each other. For some reason, Lilian wanted to believe that her newfound camaraderie was not yet coming to a close.

Tessaline rubbed her arms. “It’s getting chilly. I’ll kindle the fire.” She walked over to the skinny metal fireplace that stood in the center of the room. She picked up a short log and fed it to the weakening fire. Something about the fire ignited thoughts about Aversum and the kindlum (the train of fire). For a moment, Lilian tried to imagine her uncle boarding the train that is said to take souls away to the good place.

“Thank you, once again, for all this,” said Lilian.

“Thank you.”

“Me? For what?”

Tessaline rose from her bent stature. “In all my years of living here, I have to say that was the nicest prayer that anyone’s ever prayed for us.”

Surprised, Lilian smiled, gripping the sheets, “No way. It couldn’t have been the nicest."

“It is when every other prayer sounds like, 'And El, please give those two a whippin on behalf of everyone who can't.’”

"So… you don’t mind that I’m a Shersul follower?”

Tessaline swatted the air, “Like I said. I’m indifferent.”

“Master Girgum.”

“What is it?”

“She got through.”

“What did you say?”

“She got through the storm.”

Lilian has the same dream every night. She is in her maze sneaking a slice of plum pie into her mouth. Gracie always made the best plum pies. She is hiding away from Shersul. She remembers his height, his golden-brown hair, and the intensity of his eyes as they scanned around for her. The sound of the wind whistling, ringing nearby chimes. Little bunnies hopping in and out through the hedges. The sun beaming down on her in waves she can see. But in her dreams, the world is always more magical. She creeps away past the clay fountain she hid behind once she spots Shersul. The air is so sweet, she can taste it, and the sky is pink. Clouds swirling round. Cutting corners, she comes to an abrupt stop at the sight of an arched wooden door right at a dead end.

It was never there before. Slowly, she inches closer. A glowing yellow light seeps below the door, indicating there is something interesting behind it. But this was not her usual dream.

“Lilian.”

She hears Shersul’s deep voice. But when she turns around, he isn’t there.

“I have to go…” the words echo in her head. “I’m leaving you… gift.”

Lilian turns back to the door. The glow is quickly vanishing. She runs to the door and turns the knob. When it is open, a swarm of monarchs burst through, surrounding her as they flutter. Clouding her vision. Once they dissipate, all the beauty is gone. Before her is a dry wasteland. Shriveled black leaves lifting and falling in the slight breeze, catching the dust.

As she walks, her steps become heavy. Her knees, feeling ever so weak. A tremendous weight upon her shoulders. Relenting, she drops to a crawl and then lies down on her back. Familiar voices whisper in her head, vying for attention:

“…I’m sorry you had to see me this way.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“You are ready, Lillian… You love to hide behind your name.”

“There is so much I want to teach you.”

“He’s in a better place, Lilian- ilian- ian…”

Tears stream down the sides of her face. She looks up at the sky that is now gray, then squeezes her eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.” The quaky breath of someone speaking into her ear makes Lilian’s eyes open again. She turns her head to see who is lying beside her.

“I’m sorry I left you.”

It is him. It is Uncle Fred. In his blue-striped pajamas. His gray corpse is speaking to her. Lilian jumps up and scoots from him.

“No,” she says.

His dead face somehow animates a confused expression. “I never made it to Aversum.” That isn’t even his voice.

“No! NO!” she repeats. “NO!”

Lilian couldn’t sleep. Girgum must be toying with her. Even her dreams must be tampered with. It was all too much. What was a girl like her going to do? How could she even manage her life without Uncle Fred? Doubt. So much doubt.

Tessaline was beside her sleeping soundly. Lilian eased out of the bed and crept into the hallway. Paul’s door faced her. Though she was tempted to see him, it would be rude to wake him from his much-needed sleep. She was curious where to find the powder room if there even was one. She had to freshen up. She had to be alone with cool water running down her face. Her steps halted when the front door in the kitchen swung open. She dashed behind the corner.

The sound of heavy boots plopped along the kitchen floor. Lilian dared to peer at whoever was there. Her eyes beheld the back of a tall man with ear-length, messy hair that was full of fluffy curls. His body, taut and muscular, clothed in a linen blouse and cotton overalls. His gait, staggering as if he’d just had multiple bottles of some strong beverage.

A bowl of cold stew sat on the dining table. He stirred the spoon, inspecting the supper, then dropped it back in the bowl. He stomped across into the sitting room.

Curious, Lilian tiptoed behind, keeping a good distance. She watched him groan as he saw his clothes and essentials laid out on the couch by Tess. He scratched the back of his head. Lilian noticed he was covered in freckles.

So that’s Jase.

She leaned back on her heels. The naughty floor creaked, telling on her. Mr. Jase pivoted around to see who was there. Lilian ran back to the room where she belonged.

“Tess?” His low voice called out to her, slightly slurred at the S’s.

Back into the bed, she crawled, with a dozing Tess beside her, and the sound of her own breath.