Davina had grown quite comfortable in the Stokes household over the next few days. Her feet had healed nicely, though she was made to wear actual socks once the bandages were off. She looked forward to helping cook dinner each night, finding the aroma of seasoned food and Robert’s humming comforting. She had unpacked the rucksack Sister Zinnia had filled with clothes, and placed them neatly into the wardrobe and chest alongside the old clothes Robert had piled onto her bed. A Flock of Sweet Spiders sat on the bedside table instead of under the mattress, it was slightly jarring to see a piece of her old life resting so casually within her new reality.
Her nightmares had returned with a vengeance, it seemed that part of her life also planned to stay. Most mornings started with the feelings like her lungs were being shredded from the inside and her heart slamming painfully into her ribs. Sometimes she’d sit curled-up on her bed in one of the many big sweaters that had been occupying the drawers before she moved in, and open the window to let in the cool salty air. Watching the boats glide into port as the sun steadily rose behind them helped wash away the images of dark tunnels and those dirt-caked nails that had haunted her for years.
She was glad that Robert’s room was on the opposite end of the hall. Waking him every morning with whimpers, gasps and hyperventilating, would only make her seem weak in his eyes and that was the last thing she wanted. Actually, the last thing she wanted was to relive the appalling events of the ceremony, so naturally that was exactly what her mind did.
Now it was the sputtering screams of Viola and Angelonia that echoed in her dreams. The drip drip of their weeping necks playing in time with the rattling of rusty chains. She was almost used to the old nightmare, but this new addition made her feel like a child again. Except this time there was no Sister Zinnia to help soothe her fears away. The Redwell mornings made for a good distraction however. The cries of gulls would send goosebumps across her arms and the quiet roar of crashing waves often lulled her back to sleep.
She’d explored the rest of the house, becoming disappointed in her observational skills when she realized how much she had overlooked in her first two days. There were four rooms on the second floor, her room, the bathroom across from it, Robert’s room at the opposite end of the hall, and what looked like an office in between them. She’d quickly peeked into the two other rooms, not wanting to intrude into Robert’s personal space, but also too-curious to not look at least once.
His room appeared to be the same size as hers, but with a larger bed in the center, and a small bookshelf crammed inside. She had shut the door after her quick glance, moving on to the mysterious other door. The room in between theirs was crammed with large furniture. There was a large desk covered in papers, files, and jars, a table with books, two boxes of something, and more jars. Besides the table was a dark grey chaise lounge. Two large bookshelves stood on either side of the doorway, both crammed with large books and loose papers. She didn’t quite understand why there was a reclined couch chair in there, but didn’t ask any questions.
The first floor held the sitting room she’d been slowly organizing, the small dining room, the blue and cream colored kitchen, a bathroom, and a small pantry. She had not realized there was a pantry in the kitchen until she watched Robert open and disappear behind a door she’d written off as a backdoor. The pantry held scales, cheese graters, spices, spare jars, bowls too big to fit in the cabinets, and large boxes of rice, potatoes, and strings of garlic.
The forged paperwork came five days after Davina’s arrival. A fake certificate of birth, that was crumpled and flecked with coffee to appear older than it was, school certificates that claimed she had completed her education, and a small id, were enclosed in an envelope Robert came home with one evening. The id was harder than she would have imagined, with a glossy sheen, and the emblem of Nescio on the left hand corner. The silver hand grasping six arrows, representing the six royal families, was quickly overlooked as Davina saw her own full-freckled face staring back up at her. Robert had taken the photo a few days ago, and she couldn’t stop staring. No one had ever taken her photo before, nor did she have paperwork that would allow her to travel between the different counties. The information Lorraine Ann Stokes, 1229 Bell st Redwell, Bridlo was written next to her photo. Underneath it listed her identifying features, hair color (brown), eye color (hazel), height (5’5), and her date of birth (Feb 4, X230).
Her name wasn’t the only lie on the certificate. Robert had made her a year older, saying it would be easier for a twenty-one year old to buy things, and travel by themselves. He did ask when her actual birthday was so they could celebrate it however.
“I don’t know really, the sisters figured it was sometime in X231, but they didn’t really know the exact date.” They had found the child outside the shrine’s doorstep in spring of X233, and were able to guess her age due to the amount of teeth she had.
“Well when do ya want it to be?” He had seen how the girl’s face darkened ever so slightly when she admitted that she didn’t have a true birthdate.
“Can we do that?”
“I don’t see why not. So go on, pick a date.”
In the end they decided to choose March first. The weather then always got a little warmer and she liked watching the plants spring back to life.
Davina was in the middle of watering the many plants Robert kept on the tall shelves one afternoon, when there was a loud knock on the front door. She paused, unsure of what to do. They had never had visitors before, and whenever he left her alone in the house he reminded her not to open the door for anyone. So she stayed standing on top of the dining room chair she had dragged over.
The knocking came again, and thankfully Robert hurriedly came down the stairs. He noticed her wide-eyed atop a chair, a watering can clutched in her hands, before he peeked out the window to see who it was.
“S’all right kid, it's a...friend of mine,” he assured her before opening the door.
A tired looking woman stood in the doorframe.
“Oh, thank Gods you’re home! I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m out again. Is there any chance I could get a refill?” Davina could hear the desperation in the woman’s voice, but had no idea what she was talking about.
“Yeah, yeah, come on in. It’s freezing out.” He opened the door further to let the woman pass.
She wore a long gray dress with an apron tied around her waist, that Davina noted was flecked with bits of flour and dark smudges. The long sleeves had been pushed up to her elbows, and strands of blonde hair had escaped a messy bun at the top of her head. Despite the cold weather there were patches of sweat visible on her clothes and along her hairline. The woman turned, seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, and spotted the girl.
She looked from Robert, to the girl, and back again. “Ah, I thought I heard a rumor that your daughter had come to live with you.”.
“Right, yes. Lori, this is Miriam Fowler. Miriam, this is my daughter Lorraine.” She had to remind herself to take deep breaths. That was the first time he had referred to her as Lori. Normally he just called her kid, which had grown on her (though she’d never admit it).
Davina carefully hopped off of the chair, and stretched out her hand towards the woman.“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Up close she could see dark rings under the woman’s blue eyes, she wondered when the last time she slept was.
The two shook hands and Miriam marvled about how she could see the resemblance between the two of them. Oh I’m sure you can, thought Davina.
“Alright, wait right here, I think I have another box upstairs.” Robert nodded once to the girl before climbing the stairs, as if to say it’s alright.
Miriam was quick to fill the silence that had grown since the sound of his feet on the stairs faded away. “So, Lori, how are you liking Redwell so far? Not too cold for you I hope.” She had laughed lightly at the end of her question, but did seem genuine.
“It's alright, and I think I’ve gotten used to the cold.” She’d lived with it for twenty years but Miriam, and the town didn’t know that.
“Oh that's great!” She fell silent, but there was an eager glint in those tired eyes, so Davina knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. She was right. “Why the sudden move if you don’t mind me asking? Bobby never really mentioned you before.”
Part of her wanted to be offended on behalf of her fake character for how intrusive and forward this woman was being, but they had prepared for this. Robert and the sister had both expected people to ask questions like this, so Davina slowly said their rehearsed answer.
“My mother died.” She paused here, Robert said it would add a dramatic effect to the speech, and Davina secretly enjoyed the reaction she got from Miriam Fowler. The woman’s eyes widened suddenly, realizing the severity of her question. That’ll teach her not to pry into people’s business. “She was sick for a very long time. I moved back in with my father after the funeral.”
The woman nodded somberly, and said no more.
A few minutes later Robert came back down the stairs carrying a brown box, “Alrighty, Miriam, this should hold you over for a bit.” He pressed the box into the woman’s hands, a strong aromatic smell coming from it as it passed her by. Miriam quickly took it and started thanking him as she made her way towards the door.
Once she was gone he turned to her and asked, “what happened? She normally talks my ear off for hours. I’ve never seen her leave so fast.” He practically howled with laughter when she explained the gist of their conversation. She couldn’t help but laugh too, his amusement was infectious. “I’d have given anythin’ to have seen her face.” She could still hear him laughing to himself as he walked into the kitchen.
That had been a good day for her. She’d gotten their fake story straight, been called Lori for the first time, and made Robert laugh. Never in her whole life had she made someone do that before, it was an addicting feeling.
⟴
People like nosey Miriam Fowler popped by the house frequently. There was no set schedule or general time to expect someone, there was just a knock and someone standing behind the old door who needed Robert’s help. Though she couldn’t make much sense of it, Davina was fascinated.
One day it was a knock during the middle of their breakfast, which turned out to be a father with two small children. Both kids had red noses and coughs that hurt her own chest just listening to them. Robert disappeared into their pantry for a few minutes and then handed the father a jar of dried drown flakes. The stressed-looking father gave her a quick hello before ushering out his kids. They went back to eating like nothing had happened.
Another day she was awoken by three raps on the door. She had watched from the top of the stairs as Robert and two bulky men exchanged words, and then handed him a large box that gently clinked and clattered, as though it were filled with glass. In the morning she saw a new collection of creams, and strong-smelling powders, littering the dining room table. Which she had just cleaned.
She didn’t know how to feel about the fourth visitor. A girl around her age knocked on the once-blue door and scribbled a note asking for Bobby Stokes when she opened the door. The girl was wide-eyed and after a few minutes of watching her communicate through notes with Robert she realized she either didn’t have or lost her voice. She wondered if the girl reminded Robert of her at all. Same age, same big, wide eyes that screamed please help me, no voice. Although her lack of voice was a little different than the mystery girls. Robert took the time to write something down for the girl, instructions by the look of them, and he pressed a jar of...tree bark into her hands. What? Nope, it was definitely tree bark, she recognized the jar, she’d dusted it the other day during one of her cleaning frenzies.
She was too confused by the interaction to come up with a coherent question.
Another morning, while she happily munched on some toast, had an elderly couple knocking on their door. The woman quietly begged for Robert’s help, wrinkled hands were clasped in front of her in a pleading gesture. Her husband stood there, or stooped there, silently. His back was hunched over like he was trying to shield his face from a particularly cold breeze, even though they were indoors and the fire was crackling away.
Robert and the man slowly made their way upstairs and Davina was left to make small talk with the woman. She had a rectangular face and a strong forehead, her hair was neatly pulled back into a tight braid that trailed down her back. She reminded Davina of Sister Lilly. She could imagine those same wrinkled hands were shaking hers as she greeted the stranger before her.
“Ahha, and you must be Bobby’s girl. I’ve heard so much about you my dear.” If the sister could have spoken, she could imagine her voice as breathy and creaky as this womans. This woman at least didn’t smell like musk and stale flowers.
“All good things I hope. It’s nice to meet you. Can I get you anything? We just had tea, but I’m sure the kettle is still warm.” She smiled kindly at the woman, which seemed to be the right thing to do, for the older woman’s face spread into a pleased smile of her own.
“Oh, call me Luella dearey. My, you really are as sweet as they say you are.” Having no idea who they were, she let the woma-she let Luella continue in her slow drawl. “It’s no wonder Bobby’s been singin your praises all over town. If only other kids were as sweet as you.” Luella plopped down into one of the chairs in front of the fire, closing her eyes briefly at the welcomed warmth.
“What do you mean?” No one had ever called her sweet before. She was the wild child that craved chaos and broke rules, how could she be sweet?
“Why, your father has been talkin’ about you nonstop ever since you got here dear. He’ll talk the ear right off anyone who will listen.” Luella let out a croaky laugh, “why, he goes on about ‘Lori this’ and ‘Lori that’ so often that the whole town ought to know about you by now.”
Ah, now it made sense. Part of his plan to deter any curiosity about her sudden appearance in Redwell, was too quickly introduce people to the idea of her. If any Collectors came questioning her fake identity, any townsperson or neighbor they interrogated would be able to tell them about Lorraine Stokes, who came back to live with her father after the sudden, and tragic, passing of her mother. It seemed like the plan was working if this stranger immediately knew who she was.
She tried to come up with a generic yet satisfactory answer, and only came up with “I think he’s just excited.”
The woman brushed off her answer with a click of her tongue and a small wave of her sun-spotted hand. “Nonsense. Any daughter who helps clean and spends time cooking meals with their parents deserves a little praise. Why, when my oldest finished school he flew the nest quicker than when the Vasils dropped their crowns.” She cackled at her own joke and settled deeper into the chair.
She hadn’t realized Robert liked those things about her, even if he was bragging about his fake daughter, she couldn’t help the flutter of pride that grew in her chest.
The two women spoke before the fire for a little longer, discussing Luella’s other children (who’s named she learned were Odette, Walt, and Patrick), the upcoming winter, and the dress Davina was wearing (a black and white checkered dress that had ruffled sleeves she enjoyed more than buttered bread).
Robert helped Luella’s husband down the stairs some time later. The man, who’s name she had learned was Edgar after Luella rambled on about the wild state of his facial hair, held a small jar full of green dust. There was a far-away look in his eyes that Davina couldn’t place, almost as if he wasn’t aware of what was happening around him.
Robert patted Edgar’s shoulder and helped Luella out of the chair she had gotten quite comfortable in. “Now, I don’t know how much help it’ll be, but it can’t hurt. Add a spoonful of it to his drink after, or in between meals. Come back in two or three weeks and we’ll go from there.”
Luella brought him in for a tight hug, “bless your soul, Bobby Stokes.” Davina couldn’t help but snicker as she saw the look on his face. She’d never seen him look so stunned and caught off guard before, and being squashed into the arms of the tiny Luella made it even better.
Robert quickly helped the pair out of the house after detangling himself from the woman’s embrace. He leaned against the door once they were gone, the relief obvious on his face.
“Oh bless your soul Bobby,” she mimicked in a poor attempt at Luella’s slow drawl.
“Shut up.” The two of them laughed and fell back into their familiar routine.
⟴
November brought with it cold winds, shorter days, the browning of trees, and a visitor.
It had been a quiet afternoon, Robert had run out to pick up more food, and Davina was in the middle of alphabetizing the downstairs bookshelf, when there was a knock at the door.
She wasn’t surprised anymore, people came by almost daily it seemed for a few minutes of Robert’s attention. After a few weeks of living with the constant knocking, she’d come to know who the usual suspects were.
There was Lorisia Bailisuir, the young widow who’d recently moved to Redwell all the way from Bridgeside. Robert would give her small floral smelling packets, and in return she would do their laundry for free. Hassan No Name, who would come by with his brother to deliver boxes at the oddest hours. April Saunders, their next door neighbor who’d often stop by for sugar or to simply talk to Robert. Davina would spend the occasional afternoon in her cat-filled home if Robert was going to be gone for hours at a time. She’d lost track of how many cats the woman had, but liked a gray one named Dally.
Curly-haired Eori Qia was a factory worker that would disappear into the upstairs office with Robert for an hour or two. She was convinced he had a crush on Lorisia, he’d turned tomato red and stammered nonsense whenever their paths crossed.
They all normally came by 1229 Bell st at least once a week.
This time however, a stranger stood on the other side of the door. He couldn’t have been much older than she was, but the way he held himself made her question that. Broad shoulders were pulled back and his posture made him seem taller than he was, which was impressive seeing as to how she only cleared his collar bone.
Her eyes glanced up and a pair of confused green eyes stared back at her.
“Ugh, I’m lookin’ for Bobby. He around?” Wow his freckles are pretty. A long moment passed. Wait, what’d he say? The man raised a brow at her silence, slightly unnerved by the intensity of her gaze. “Sooo? Bobby? He here or not?”
“Hm, um no, he stepped out for a few minutes.” Had she blinked yet? Stars, she was staring wasn’t she? “You can wait for him if you’d like.” She took a small step back and gestured for him to come inside, willing him to say yes with her mind.
The man grunted in agreement, a language she had gotten good at decoding thanks to Robert, bent to pick up a worn duffle bag and walked past her into the sitting room.
Visitors often came looking for Robert armed with the strangest of things, so she didn’t think twice about what he was carrying.
He looked around the room, puzzlement etched in the creases between his brows. Those green eyes hovered for a moment on the pile of books lying in neat piles in front of their shelves. He had interrupted her in the middle of putting away the H authors.
“Who are you?” His voice was fascinating. It was deep and husky, and she completely ignored the command behind his question. At this point it was rare for someone to not know who she was the moment she opened the front door, or they saw her distinctive messy curls.
“I’m Lori, and who might you be?” She shot him one of her sweetest smiles, “you’re not one of Robert’s regulars.” Though she really wished he was.
He hummed in agreement, not answering her question. His focus had narrowed in on what she was wearing.
Davina had taken to wearing the large sweaters that had been lying at the bottom of her drawers since the temperature dropped. The sweaters were clearly handmade and had seen their share of ware, she’d patched up the few holes or ripped seams she’d come across.
“Is that my shirt?” That was perhaps the last thing she expected the freckled man to ask.
“Wha- your shirt? What are you talking about?”
The front door opened and Robert’s inquiring voice stopped their conversation. “Hey kid, you’ll never guess what Simmons had today- oh.” He saw the back of their guest's head, who hadn’t bothered to turn around, not breaking eye contact with the girl before him. “Knew I was forgettin’ somethin’.” She heard him mutter.
“You know this guy?” Hazel eyes stared down green, his appeal suddenly gone.
“Yes. Now settle down you two, this place is clean for once and I’d like to keep it that way.” He nudged the door shut behind him with his boot, which he kicked off and left in the middle of the room as he made his way to the kitchen.
She eyed the muddy shoes, “thought you wanted to keep it clean” she joked. There wasn’t a neat bone in that man's body.
“Ha ha. Sit down you two. I’ll put on the kettle.” She obliged, choosing the chair closest to the fireplace and listened to the sound of mugs clinking and the familiar click of Robert turning on the burner. The man ignored the suggestion, choosing instead to stand in the center of the room, thick arms folded across his broad chest. She tried her best to not look in his direction. He glanced around the room, taking in the near stacks and organized jars that had once been scattered through the house, not that Davina was watching him.
Robert came back a few minutes later, balancing three cups in his hands. She sipped on the tea, loving the warmth and appreciating that it was made exactly the way she liked it, a splash of milk and lots of honey. Freckle-face was also given a cup, but he just held it. His face had become unreadable ever since Robert walked in. His chiseled features were impassive and blank, but there was a bit of boredom or anger behind it, it was an expression that screamed don’t mess with me.
Robert plopped into the only other chair in the room, sighing deeply as he got off his tired feet. “So I take it you two have met?” He used his mug to gesture between the two of them.
“Not really,” she admitted.
The man just grunted in agreement.
“Well this is kinda my fault, I got my dates mixed up.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a nervous habit Davina had seen him do when stressed .
“What are you talking about?”
“Well the room you’re usin’ is Finn’s old room. He rents it out when his season is finished,” he said simply. As though that answered everything and didn’t just confuse the girl more.
“Huh?” That definitely wasn’t the most refined way she could have phrased that, but she was starting not to care.
“Finn here's a fisherman.” He pointed a thumb at the man still standing in the center of the room. She tried not to notice how the light from the fire made the stubble on his cheeks seem to dance. She failed miserably. “He's gone for three to four months at a time, he’ll come here to rest for a few weeks, then he’s back out.” He scratched the back of his head again, “I thought I had a few more weeks before I had to even think about this.”
Davina knew this was the closest to an apology that she or...Finn, were bound to get. He wasn’t one for sappy apologies.
The crackling from the fireplace was the only disturbance cutting through the tense silence air. Until she finally got to hear that deep voice again.
“I can find another place to crash, Bobby. It's no trouble.” Uncrossing his arms he bent to pick up the duffle lying at his feet.
“Nonsense. There's always a place for you here, boy.” That authoritative voice was back, leaving little room to argue. Though Davina wouldn’t put it past Finn to try, he looked like he would pick fights for fun. “You could take the couch in the office upstairs for now. I’ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ a cot or somethin’.”
The fisherman’s face softened at the man’s generosity, “thank you Bobby. So who’s the room stealer?” he joked. The little chuckle he did at the end of his question made Davina’s lungs forget how to do their job.
“Right, Lori, this is Finn.” He gestured so casually with the mug she was worried he’d spill tea on the floor, “and Finn, this here is Lorraine. My daughter.”
There was no missing the sharp look in the man’s eyes as he said the words my daughter. Though his words and tone were polite and relaxed as ever, his dark eyes said hurt her and you’ll be sorry. Davina had come to appreciate the man’s protective side. Though it did not come out very often, the fact that such a side existed in the first place made her heart swell. It was the small things like staring down strangers, or making sure she had on enough layers before going outside, that made her feel loved. Even if it wasn’t true fatherly love, she could pretend that it was in those moments.
When everyone had finished their tea, Finn knocking his back in four loud gulps when Robert insisted he drink it, the two men headed up the stairs to clear a bit of space in the office. Davina decided to tackle the pile of dirty dishes that had slowly accumulated throughout the day, adding their mugs to the pile. Her hands were scrubbing a particularly hard fleck of stuck-on egg from a pan when she heard the wonderfully deep voice next to her ear.
She had not heard him walk up behind her, having been humming some tune Robert had got stuck in her head. She froze, goosebumps racing down her arms, not daring to move a muscle.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I know you aren’t Lorraine Stokes.” There was no mistaking the fury coating his words. “The only reason why you’re still here is because Bobby seems rather fond of you.” Her sudsy hands gripped the pan so hard her knuckles turned white. He couldn’t have been more than six inches behind her, she could feel his breath on the back of her head. “But one wrong move, hurt him and I swear it’ll be the last thing you do in this house.” With that, he left.
177Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHAoDOKUYZn
