A Dove's Tale

Chapter 32

The storm hadn't let up by morning, though its intensity had lessened. I debated back and forth between leaving at seven o'clock as usual versus waiting for a carriage. Prince Chevalier hadn't mentioned sending one, but it seemed like something he would do. Then again, if a carriage didn't come, I would be late to work, and I was still upset about how much time I'd lost to Prince Clavis yesterday. It didn't bother anyone else. I knew that. Even Prince Chevalier didn't seem to care. But it bothered me, because I never skipped out on my job. If it weren't for Mother, I probably would have stayed late at the palace to finish polishing everything.

She taught me that.

I didn't like leaving her alone today. The roof still held, but our house was drafty, and she got too chilled going to and from the outhouse in the torrential downpour the day before. It took the hot soup, dressing her in more layers, piling the dirty laundry over her blanket, and cuddling with her to get the shivering to stop. I had to make her promise to use the bucket I set up next to the bed instead of going outside while the rain continued. She didn't like the idea of going to the bathroom inside. I preferred it to her being washed away in the storm, even if that meant more work for me. She needed a new blanket, too, and that couldn't wait for me to ask Prince Chevalier for some time off during the day to go into town and get it.

"Mrs. Stotts?" I called, knocking on our neighbor's door.

"Mom, it's Ivetta," one of her children called out. I couldn't quite make out which one it was.

"Well, don't leave her standing out in the rain! See what she wants," Mrs. Stotts called back.

I smiled to myself. Mrs. Stotts had her hands full with six children, and, judging by the hint of exasperation in her voice, they were getting on her nerves more than usual. I guessed the rain was to blame for that. It was hard for active children to stay inside and out of trouble at the same time.

"What?" a bored-looking teenage boy asked as he yanked the door open.

"Manners!" Mrs. Stotts reminded him from another room, probably the kitchen.

He sighed irritably. "Hello, Ivetta. What do you want?"

"Jason," Mrs. Stotts warned.

"I said hello," he shouted back to her, his thick brown curls bouncing as he whipped his head around to direct his voice in his mother's direction.

"Don't talk back to me!"

I stifled a giggle. Jason was a good kid, just rebellious lately, stuck in that in-between stage where he was too old to be a child and too young to be an adult. He and his mother had been fighting constantly for a few months now. She would welcome a break from him, I knew, and he was also plenty old enough to go into town on his own.

"Jason, I was wondering if you could do something for me today."

"Me?" he asked, frowning as he whipped his head back around to look at me. His curls were getting long and unruly, I thought. Mrs. Stotts would chop them off any day now.

"Mother needs a new blanket, and I can't get away from work when the shops are open. Would you go into town and buy the thickest one you can find?"

"Of course he will," Mrs. Stotts said, appearing in the kitchen doorway and drying her hands on her apron. Her thick brown curls and dark chocolate eyes matched her son's perfectly, as did her frown. "Right, Jason?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I guess."

"Jason, I'm warning you-"

"I said I'll do it," he complained.