The fragrance of change

The Yorkshire Dales, autumn 2019 although I thought this was from spring, lol. (England matters in a post about writing because it was in the UK where I began my first novel!)

Reading over Chapter 11 of The Possibility of What If; my life as a fifty-something is nearly done. Not sure why I felt compelled to read over that random chapter, but I was. I'm posting it below, but first here's a little snippet of what else is happening....

I'll be sixty VERY SOON. LOL. No ahems, no visits from Future or Past Me. Simply this last days in my fifties me, which won't be that different than who I'll be after I turn sixty, God willing. I trimmed my fringe this morning, that's bangs to you Yanks. I'll get a proper haircut next month once shingles are DONE. They're close, but....

Last night I dreamed they had gotten worse. Thankfully that isn't the case. I've been reading through Home and Far Away and this morning I figured out how that section of On Being Brave: The Enran Chronicles Book Five will emerge. Maybe once I complete The Deadfern Miracles, another marvel will surface, in that I'll wrap up at least another section of a story I started last summer. Hmmm.... Will that novel take me two further summers to conclude? Stay tuned and find out.

For nearly the last two decades, writing fiction has been a staple within my life. I always wished to create books, and once I turned forty, well.... Age is merely a number, not the gauge of my well-being. It's an outline, as opposed to an outlier, because no way am I similar to who I was two decades previously, well, not much like her. And that's fine. But I remain an author, WOO HOO, so it's nice to be crafting a novel at this point in time, to be reading my books, to be happy with most of the output.

It's nice to be happy, a good fragrance of change because change occurs whether we want it or not. Whether we are prepared or not. Whether the wind blows or rain falls or chickens go broody. Anyway, here's an excerpt from a novel that initially felt like pulling my guts through my navel. That Which Can Be Remembered was one hey of a series to complete, but if fantasy/women's fiction/love stories/minor apocalypse-plague tales are your thing, I strongly recommend it.

And have a lovely day!

 

Chapter 11

 

Pollette woke to the sound of voices; quickly she rose from bed, rubbing her eyes. She had been up late packing, so had Brynn, but that woman was speaking Vodali, although Pollette wasn’t sure to who. Certainly not to Ava, Polly allowed as she dressed, slipping into her shoes. She opened her door, used the bathroom, then headed into the living room, finding Brynn and Mirella seated on the sofa. Both appeared teary-eyed, but Mirella wore a smile. “Good morning Polly. Hope you slept well.” Mirella patted Brynn’s hand, then stood slowly from the couch. “Are you hungry?”

“Um, yes. Is there tea?”

“The last pot we’ll enjoy here,” Mirella chuckled, meeting Pollette in the middle of the room. “I was just telling Brynn how she could safely pack it. Regardless of where we land, I insist we bring the teapot.”

“Of course,” Pollette said, watching how Brynn wiped her face. “How should we pack it?”

“Wrapped in Brynn’s wedding dress, though she says she isn’t going to bring it.”

Pollette trembled, then stared at her sister-in-law, who merely shook her head.

“I’ll pour you some tea,” Mirella continued, walking into the kitchen. “That’ll leave cups for Finny and Ava when they manage to get out of bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Pollette answered absently. She glanced at the coat rack, Roque’s long jacket hanging in its usual place. She would use it to cushion whatever needed extra protection, but it had been one of the main items Pollette would take with them. She joined Brynn on the sofa, but didn’t immediately speak, as Brynn appeared to have been crying hard. Pollette grasped Brynn’s hand, offering a gentle squeeze. Brynn’s grip was forceful, then she sighed, again shaking her head.

Pollette gazed at the room; tapestries had been packed at Mirella’s insistence while the quilt would keep those in the back seat warm. But only a few books had been boxed up, Mirella’s chair still in its spot. Even with the cargo trailer, most of their larger possessions would remain behind. Yet there was plenty of space for special mementos and Pollette cleared her throat. “Why don’t you wanna bring your dress?”

“What’s the point?” Brynn squeaked. “Most likely he won’t remember it and it’s not like I’ll wear it again.”

“Finny might want to.”

“Wedding dresses aren’t a Vodali custom. I only wore it to make Seti and Kig happy.”

“I know so little about that time, your….” Pollette sighed. “I think you should bring it. Maybe it'll come in handy.”

Brynn stared at Pollette. “You think so?”

“To jog his memory. Not for Finny certainly.”

“Maybe Kig can use it.” Brynn had a wry chuckle. “Or maybe I am leading us on a wild goose chase.” She stood, then gazed out the window.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Pollette asked.

“Only about what we might not find.” Brynn crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t wanna stay here, but….”

Pollette stood, also looking out the window. Kellah’s dress flapped in the breeze, yet the sky was clear. “I’ll pack it if you want, though not around the teapot.”

“Why not?”

“Because if it breaks, I don’t wanna pick pieces out of your dress.”

“Fair enough.” Brynn dropped her arms to her sides, then grasped Pollette’s hand. “You’re bringing Roque’s jacket I assume.”

“I wouldn’t leave without it.”

“Ah so then. Guess I should get Finny up.” Brynn released Pollette’s hand, then turned to leave. Pollette reached for Brynn’s shoulder. “What?” Brynn asked.

“Are you bringing his uniform?”

Now Brynn smiled. “No, but I have a use for it.”

“Yeah?”

Brynn nodded, kissed Pollette’s cheek, then spoke Vodali to her grandmother in a tone that sounded like surrender. Brynn headed to the hallway, leaving Pollette to gaze at Kellah's dress, drifting in the wind.

 

An hour later, the wedding dress was packed, as was the teapot; all five women had eaten breakfast, finishing the leftovers from last night. Finny had washed the containers from Oliver Moss and they were in the box with a letter, waiting on the bench in the front garden. In the note, Pollette had written that if Oliver’s family wished to use her home to please do so, a spare key left with their neighbor. That family had happily agreed to take care of the chickens and would water Brynn’s plants, treating this excursion as though the Dahl family was going on vacation. A few visitors delayed the women’s departure; friends of Mirella came to wish her well and fellow Vodalis brought bottles of wine as parting gifts. Mirella gladly accepted those, telling Brynn to pack them carefully. A couple of Finny’s classmates loitered outside the gate, wearing masks and telling Finny to stay in touch. Lemry Neery appeared just as Brynn was securing the cargo trailer’s door. He cleared his throat, catching Brynn’s attention. “So you really are going away,” he said, a mask over his face.

Brynn turned around with a smile. “Yup. Thanks for checking out the wagon and for the extras.”

He shrugged. “Got a house out of it, though Pollette drove a hard bargain.”

“Seems a fair deal.” Brynn leaned against the trailer, collecting her hair, twisting it atop her head. “What can I do for you?”

“Just wondered what you’re doing with this house.” Lemry scuffed his shoe along the concrete, then removed his mask. “You aren’t coming back here, I believe.”

Brynn gazed at Kellah’s dress, barely fluttering against the gate. “Neighbors are looking after it for us. You never know.”

“Huh.” Lemry wore a sly grin. “Well, I was just wondering.”

“No harm in that,” Brynn said flatly.

“Okay well, you all take care.” He spat towards the fence. “Car’s in good shape, can’t say otherwise.”

“Indeed,” Brynn said. “Enjoy your new house and stay safe.”

Lemry nodded, putting on his mask. “Gonna do just that.” He turned around, heading back the way he came.

Brynn muttered under her breath in Vodali, then walked into her front garden. Pollette stepped from the house. “Who was that?”

“Lemry snooping around. Are we about ready to leave?”

“I think so.” Pollette walked to the gate, leaning over it, scanning the street. “I wonder if we should board it up before we go.”

“We won’t need to.”

“Yeah?” Pollette stared at Brynn. “What’s to keep out the likes of Lemry?”

“I’ll show you.” Brynn smiled, then went inside. A few moments later she returned, a hammer, nails, and an article of clothing in her grasp. She stepped through the gate, then affixed the tattered garment alongside Kellah’s dress. Pollette said nothing as Brynn finished her task; the uniform Thaydon had worn home now fluttered in the breeze.

Brynn joined where Pollette stood. “Anyone other than the neighbors and Oliver wouldn’t dare cross that threshold now,” Brynn said softly. “Or at least I hope the neighbors will feed the chickens.”

“They’ll take them into their own yards,” Pollette snorted. “You think that was necessary?”

“Did you?”

Pollette glared at Brynn, then sighed loudly. “Let’s go. I’m done here.”

“Me too,” Brynn said, grasping Pollette’s hand.

 

Finny shed a few tears as she got in her seat; Ava then sat on Finny’s right, Polly on her left. Soona snored right behind Finny in the back compartment, Mirella in the front passenger seat. Brynn would take the first turn behind the wheel, but they wouldn’t immediately depart from the village. No cable had arrived from Kellah’s parents and Brynn wanted to stop at the telegram office before leaving. Finny wiped her face, then glanced at the house. Pollette grasped her hand and Finny squeezed back. Her throat hurt, but not from illness. She understood why her father’s war clothes hung beside Kellah’s dress, but somehow that apparel tarnished Finny’s last image of her childhood home. As Brynn started the wagon, Finny closed her eyes, still gripping her aunt’s hand. Tears leaked along Finny’s cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away.

Minutes later the car stopped; only then did Finny open her eyes. Pollette released her, then got out of the vehicle. Finny glanced at Ava, her clasped hands resting on her belly. Ava didn’t gaze out; she wanted to be far away, Finny knew. The sun shone, Yunkas in masks staring at them. Finny crossed her arms over her chest, then peered through the front windscreen. Pollette exited the office, shaking her head.

“Well, I guess we’ll go southwest and see what happens,” Brynn said as Pollette got back in the wagon.

“Better that way,” Mirella said.

“Yeah?” Pollette asked as Brynn restarted the vehicle, driving away from the office.

“If we’re welcome, it will be a pleasant surprise,” Mirella said. “I’ll assume we are not and little offense will be taken at our brief visit.”

“That makes no sense,” Pollette muttered.

“What does these days?” Brynn offered.

Finny sighed softly, gazing out of Ava’s window. Front gates were dappled in black fabric, a few Yunkas standing inside their small yards chatting with neighbors, some in masks, some merely keeping their distance. They looked odd to Finny, as though she was already dwelling in an unknown land. Again she glanced out the front windscreen; the two-lane highway was straight, homes on both sides of the road for a couple of miles. Beyond that the landscape was barren, although hilly. Finny had never left their district and while she wasn’t eager to find who her mother hoped to locate, her heart beat hard with every house they passed. She smiled, then again stared out Ava’s window at the last few homes, black fabric draped over their fences. Then the village disappeared like it had never existed.

For several minutes, Finny scanned the horizon as the rest discussed the distance to the Quinns, the weather, and when to stop for lunch. Mirella mentioned that detail, then Finny tuned out; she looked ahead, no other vehicles to mar her view. Sloping brown hills dotted with dry, squat trees waited on the right, a small vacant valley on the left. Fences made from aged stones intersected with newer wooden barriers, but thick golden grass seemed untouched by grazing or wild animals. As the wagon began climbing a hill, Finny knew an inward glee, rising higher than she had ever been. To the left another valley sloped downward, a large dilapidated barn surrounded by tall trees with long, wispy branches of faded green. Then the vehicle descended into a deep gorge, the highway visible as far as Finny could see.

“We’re going right to the edge of the world,” she said softly.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Brynn smiled.

“The edge of the world is two weeks away,” Pollette murmured.

“Natagonia isn’t the edge of anything,” Mirella chuckled.

Finny glanced at Ava, her hands still on her belly. She too gazed out the window, then had a soft sigh. “What do you think?” Finny asked her.

“It’s different.”

“How old were you when you moved to our district?” Finny said quietly.

Ava turned to meet Finny’s gaze, a small smile on her face. “Six. But we traveled at night. I don’t remember anything about the trip.”

“Who brought you?”

“Uncle Jans.”

Finny nodded as Ava returned to staring out the window. “How far does Yunka Territory go?” Finny then asked.

“A couple of days,” Brynn answered. “The Quinns live near the boundary.”

“And after that?”

“After that’s a whole lot of nothing,” Pollette interjected.

Finny met her mother’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “We’ll see plenty of pine trees,” Brynn said. “But hopefully a good deal of peace and quiet.”

“Other than our own yakking,” Mirella laughed.

Finny smiled as Ava giggled softly. Soona continued to snore as though in agreement.

For the next two hours as chatter was interspersed by periods of silence, Finny pondered the past few months in a manner she had previously avoided. Since the first rumors of the plague in early spring, her life had altered irrevocably, culminating in the deaths of her father, cousin, and Kellah. The only man Finny considered as her dad was now reduced to no more than an aged uniform fluttering in a cool wind, making Finny shut her eyes tightly. For how long would that image haunt her, yet she didn’t blame her mother. Within Finny’s heart a different emotion blunted the anger, a strange hope she couldn’t extinguish. She had briefly spoken of it with her great-grandmother; Mirella had explained the sensation as uniah, a Vodali word meaning mercy and forgetfulness. Mirella had huffed slightly, but she'd then grasped Finny’s hand, reiterating how vital was that element to one’s well-being. It kept us alive, she’d said softly, wiping away tears pooling along Finny’s jawline. Only through uniah could a Vodali’s thuelan remain unsullied.

Thoroughly fluent in Vodali, Finny had rarely heard her mother and great-grandmother use words like thuelan and uniah, but now she rolled them around in her head, occasionally peering out the window, the landscape unchanged from earlier. More rolling hills, sloping valleys, the infrequent gorge; Brynn spoke of how after they left Yunka Territory, the countryside would become more wooded, though not as lush as Natagonia. Finny also wondered how bleak would it appear; the Jolems, while allies in the war, had viewed Natagonians with contempt, cared nothing for the Yunka, and had despised the Vodali. Jolem antipathy toward all women, even their own, was well known and Finny hoped her mother wouldn’t need to stop for more than brief interludes. As Soona began to whine, Finny understood why Aunt Polly wanted to leave the dog with the Quinns. Brynn pulled over to the side of the highway, putting the vehicle in park. Pollette got out, as did Ava, while Brynn left the wagon running. She exited her seat, then opened the back hatch, calling for Soona.

“You getting out?” Mirella asked Finny. “Not gonna stop again till lunchtime.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Finny slid out on Ava’s side, shutting the door. The air was cool, but it smelled differently than her village, fresher but not as though rain was near. A hill loomed in the distance, a few shrubs clumped together, and Ava walked that way as Soona sniffed the ground. Finny would use the shrubs for cover just as Ava was prepared to do, nowhere else to relieve oneself privately. Finny then turned to face the road, no cars visible. She had never been so isolated and she smiled at her surroundings, her mother and aunt discussing where they might stop for the evening. Finny headed their way as Ava disappeared behind the shrubs. “Are we gonna camp out?” Finny asked.

“Hardly,” Pollette said. “I know people in the next district. Depending on their health, we could sleep there.”

“If not, there are other options.” Shielding her eyes from the sun, Brynn stared toward the southern horizon. “We’ll stop for lunch in another hour or so. Grandma will need to stretch her legs by then.”

Finny nodded, then noticed Ava returning from the scrub. Pollette walked in that direction, making Brynn chuckle. “You wanna go next?” she asked her daughter.

“Sure. Mom, will we be welcome anywhere, I mean, people could think we’re sick, that we’re lying….”

“They could, but why else would such a motley crew be leaving their home? And bringing their dog.” Brynn smiled as Soona trotted over, first standing next to the wagon, then plopping onto the ground as though having found a perfectly good place to sleep.

Finny knelt beside Soona, running her hand along the dog’s back. “I hope the Quinns will take her.”

“I do too. That, funnily enough, is one of my biggest worries.”

Finny gazed at her mother. “Seriously?”

Brynn squatted next to the dog, who then rolled to her side. Brynn laughed and began scratching Soona’s exposed belly. “You’re a good girl, huh? They’ll be happy to have you, won’t they?”

“Mom….”

“Maja, I don’t want you to think I have all the confidence. Let’s see what kind of response we get from Kellah’s folks. Then I’ll let another of my apprehensions out of its cage.”

Ava joined them and Brynn went to her feet. “Okay out there?” she asked Ava.

“It’s sufficient,” Ava smiled. “But I’m glad we left now. I wouldn’t wanna be doing that in another couple of months.”

“Indeed.” Brynn gazed toward the shrubs, from where Pollette was now seen, heading back to the wagon. “Finny you go, then I’ll take a turn. Unless Grandma needs a walk, I think we can then get back on the road.”

After giving Soona one more belly rub, Finny stood, taking lively steps toward her aunt. Polly smiled, pointing at the shrubs. “Better than nothing at all,” she smiled. “Mirella need to go?”

“Mom’s gonna ask her.”

Pollette nodded, then continued toward the road. Finny reached the scrub, relieved herself, then kicked dirt over the damp ground. She glanced toward the vehicle; her mother stood alone, but gestured as though there was no rush. Finny nodded, slowly returning to the highway. Again she inhaled a previously unknown scent, which she then decided was the fragrance of change. She joined her mother, offering an embrace. Brynn hugged her tightly, then headed into the field as Finny got back in the wagon, Ava having scooted into the center seat. Finny thanked her and within minutes the women were again on the road, Mirella’s soft snores the only sound.