Shades of Love

Chapter 8

8

April 1994

The harsh noises of the women’s bitter barks sounded as their feet shuffled to and from across the wooden planks of the floor in the kitchen of the monastery. “Where is she? I swear, if you have lost her yet again…”

It was a threat. The old woman was always threatening. Worse than that, she usually made good on them. She was just mean.

The younger of the two old women said, “I haven’t, I promise. She was just here. Likely she’s playing outside.”

“Find her and bring her here. He wants to see her.”

He? Oh, no. He was also a man who liked to make good on his threats, but his threats were usually worse, and cost her more dearly.

It was a good thing the vast monastery had so many wonderful places to hide. The little girl crouched in the shadows of the table, the tablecloth covering her small frame. She shuddered at the thought of him. She covered her mouth as if that would quiet the sounds of her breathing, wondering if it was possible to hide away like this, forever.

She liked to play hide and seek with them, making them think she’d disappeared—or, perhaps, she’d died and had been taken by the banshee, like they’d told her might happen yesterday.

Under the table, she could pretend she was anyone, anywhere. An inventor, testing out her latest idea. An explorer, off on a jungle adventure. Or an animal, avoiding the capture of hunters. She’d read about such things in the library. Today, she was her favorite—a world-famous artist, using a broken broom handle as her brush, the hanging tablecloth as her easel.

“Come on out. I know you’re in here. Please. I don’t want to get in trouble again,” a younger woman begged in a voice that almost made the little girl feel sorry for her. Maybe she would have felt sorry, if her bare backside hadn’t seen the back of the woman’s palm quite so often.

Still, she didn’t want her to get in trouble. If she didn’t come out, there would be no food for her tonight, her stomach already growling for the soup she’d be fed. Maybe she should come out of her hiding place. There’d be trouble, as there always was, but maybe not too much.

Crawling on the cold, stone floor, she popped her little white-blonde head out from under the table. “I’m here.”

Hands coated in flour from kneading the bread that was to be part of the evening meal, the younger of the two old women turned around, hurrying toward her and pulling her to her feet, leaving a white handprint on her wrist. “Thank God. Why are you hiding? Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to hit you this time?”

She nodded. She was nicer than most, feeding her crackers when she had extras.

The woman sighed, brushing the flour off her dress, straightening the silver pendant of three spirals in the center of her chest. “I don’t know why you run, really. You know you can’t get anywhere far. None of us can.”

She bit her lip as the woman led her out of the warmth in the kitchen, then down the hall where the others were located. She didn’t like the others. They picked on her, said she was ugly and different than them.

It was true. She was ugly, and different, with her ghostly pale skin, flaxen hair, violet eyes, and pointy ears.

But they were all the same in one way: They were all orphans. But that didn’t help. She was an outcast, as she had been since the moment she was born.

That was why she hid. When you were invisible, no one could make fun of you.

The older woman stood in the doorway as they approached the room, her hands clasped at her back. “You found her.”

“I told you I knew where she was at,” the woman stated, gripping her hand tightly. “She’s my responsibility. I know where she went.”

The older woman sniffed, giving her the evil eye. And just like that, another threat escaped her lips. “Don’t let it happen again. You might not be around to find her next time.”

The child moved closer to the woman as she felt the tremble go through her, and saw her playing absently with her pendant. “Be good, girl,” the woman whispered to her, “And I’ll take you to the library to read, later.”

A thrill spiraled through the little girl, and she shivered with excitement. The library was her favorite place in the whole monastery. She could easily spend hour upon hour getting lost in the stacks of old tomes, carefully transcribed by hand by ancient monks. But as it was, she was only allowed to go there for minutes at a time, as a special treat.

She grinned at the old woman, and did her best to keep her legs from swinging under the table. The woman was the closest thing she could find to a friend within these walls. She didn’t want anything to happen to her.

As they said their prayers for the afternoon meal, the little girl promised into her praying hands that she’d try to be good for her and not run as much as she wanted to.

Still, when she heard a dove call outside, she turned her head to look through the window and wished she had wings.