post 5

Cassia picked her way down the hill until she reached the sign. Twisting iron curlicues decorated the plain, wooden sign. The sign was the last mark of the blacksmith guild that inhabited the region, before the modern Arche government was established and the blacksmiths were forced into fishing.

Honey leaped to the ground and trotted at her heels. Stone cobbles clicked underfoot, but the few matrons hurrying down the street did not pay much attention to her. She ignored the somber, stone buildings at the beginning of the town, turning down a street towards the middle class, wooden shops and houses that ringed a circular center. She paused, gaping at the identical storefronts that regarded her silently. Cassia hunched her shoulders, as she peered into wide windows, trying desperately to gain a clue. At the end of the street, close to the fishermen’s huts, was a building that did not sport a sign. The large display window revealed a wooden floored room, spartan with a lush rug and two rocking chairs. Inside, a rotund young woman was rocking back and forth. Brown ringlets of hair framed the sides of her face as she worked on something. Something that looked suspiciously like a baby’s gown. Cassia took a deep breath and tried the door. It opened smoothly, the tinkle of wind chimes accompanying her entrance. The woman looked up, and Cassia felt a surge of relief. “Archia?”

“Cassia!” her sister’s face lit up. She struggled to get up as Cassia walked towards her. Her breath labored and as she stood, Cassia could see that Archia’s dress stretched tightly over her swollen stomach.

All of a sudden she felt tentative and shy. She had not seen Archia since before she had eloped, months ago. “How are you, Archia?”

Her sister laughed, and enveloped her in a careful hug. “I am wonderful, Cassia. Cristo is wonderful, and as you can see,” she gestured towards her conspicuous stomach, “we are to be blessed this season.” She grabbed Cassia’s fingers with a rough palm and placed it over her stomach. “Can’t you feel it? The healer says it is to be a girl!”

Cassia felt a soft kick under her hand, and a slow smile spread across her face. “That’s wonderful, Archia,” she whispered. She looked up at her sister’s face, alight with the joy of anticipation. She had always been pretty, but now her eyes were alive, her smile true. Archia looked happier than Cassia had ever seen her.
All of a sudden Cassia was again overwhelmed with the sadness and sense of betrayal that swamped her when Archia first ran off. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
Archia sighed, “I know. And I, you. But don’t you see?” Archia touched her belly gently. “I had to get away from the politics, the fighting, the struggle. I’m happy here, with Cristo.”

“I know,” said Cassia softly.

Archia tried to smile again. “Between you and me, you always were the one who liked the family business.” She stepped back, and took in the knapsack, and Honey, who regarded her with affectionate eyes. Her mouth twisted with amusement. “Your first mission, Cassia? Congratulations.”

Cassia warmed at the praise, but soured slightly when she remembered the apprehension that had been plaguing her all day. Archia touched her shoulder. Cassia looked up. “Something is bothering you,” her sister said simply. Cassia nodded.

Archia indicated the other rocking chair. “Come sit, and talk with me. Like we used to.”

Cassia was finishing the last of her tale when the door opened. She glanced up, startled. The sun had touched the horizon, distorting daytime colors and lengthening shadows and blurring lines. It darkened the features of the man that entered and rendered him as a large silhouette. Archia beamed up, the light in her face rekindled brighter now as she looked at the stranger. “Cristo, look who has come.”

The stranger moved away from the door. Light fell on his face. Earnest, hazel eyes gazed out from eyebrows perpetually knitted in thought. Rough stubble dotted his chin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Welcome, Cassia. Archia has said much about you.”

Cassia smiled nervously and stood, aware now that she was sitting in Cristo’s chair. He waved her back, saying “You’re the guest here – besides, I’d better get working on our supper.”

Archia also rose to her feet. “I’ll help you.” Cristo nodded gratefully at her, offering an arm, which she took. Archia turned to Cassia, and Honey, who had fallen asleep. “I’ll show you the rest of the house, too, if you’d like. And we have a spare bedroom that you can use.”

“Alright.” Cassia gently deposited Honey into her knapsack and trailed Archia and Cristo. They opened a plain, beige door, which opened into a short, wood paneled hallway before opening into a spacious kitchen.

Cassia gaped as Archia pointed out the polished sand wood table, decorated by an assortment of sea pebbles scattered over its surface. Salty strings of seaweed were strung from the ceiling, tickling the nose and recalling distant memories of a childhood summer spent splashing in the beach. Drawings, finished and unfinished, tacked on walls, spread over stools, dominated the scene. “Are these yours, Archia?”
Archia grinned impishly. “They are indeed. I never even tried my hand at drawing until I met Cristo.” Cristo mirrored her grin, his eyes warm as he looked at his wife. Cassia glanced at one of the drawings on the wall. It was vast, covering several feet, and painted with large, watery strokes. A mermaid reclined on pale sand, which seemed to blend with the body. Jet black hair trickled in rivulets down her face, obscuring all but her red eyes. Cassia gestured towards the mess and grinned. “Father wouldn’t approve.” Their father, a proponent of practicality and efficiency, would balk at the extra clutter.

“Father needn’t know.” Archia retorted. She glanced apologetically at Cristo before stepping away and towards the flight of stairs tucked behind a corner. “I’ll show you your room, so you can settle Honey.” Still grinning, Cassia followed her sister up the stairs, keeping a sharp eye on her as Archia labored to climb.

“This is a nice house,” Cassia remarked as they stepped onto the landing.

“It is,” agreed Archia. “Cristo had a hand in its construction, you know. And he promised that once the baby arrives, I can paint the walls, and garden with him.”
Cassia snorted, “You hate gardening.”

Archia smiled blissfully, “Not any longer.”

Cassia raised her eyebrows. Archia stopped at an ornate doorway, carved like the likeness of a grape vine, wooden tendrils fading into the wall. “To be honest, Cassia, there are many things about myself that I discovered after I met Cristo. I suppose that is why I fell for him at first. Those things they say, about finding your other half. They’re true, you know. That’s how I feel about him.”

Cassia gazed at her sister, and was startled to realize that they were almost eye to eye. Cassia had gained the last few inches during the time Archia had left. “I suppose I don’t know you anymore, then,” she said before she could stop herself.

Archia laid a hand on her shoulder. “You will always be my sister, and a great friend.” She told her, “and we can start afresh, and know each other once again.” She smiled, though her eyes begged for understanding. “You can come down when you’re ready – or I’ll call you.”

Cassia watched her sister walk away, and backed into the room, feeling for the bed. “But I will never be your best friend. Cristo will always be better,” she murmured. She settled back against the soft sheets, hugging Honey’s warm, sleeping form close to her, gazing into the dark. Then, before she could help it, sleep snatched her away.