Linette's Love

Chapter 1

I sit at our solid oak table, my mind wandering. Rain drips off the top of our window and miserable grey clouds roam overhead. The weather reflects my mood, really. My father keeps trying to get me to marry these men, but I just don't feel anything towards them. Okay, so I don't hate them, but I don't even feel friendship towards them, let alone enough love to drive me to spend the rest of my life with them and mother their children. Then my father tells me sternly, that marriage is not for love, but for a sensible life. Yet surely it would be more sensible to spend your life with someone who you love and care for, I bite back at him. That leaves him speechlessly furious so he sends me, wordlessly to my room to calm down and apologizes to the discarded man at the door. He'll probably yell at me to stop daydreaming and get back to my sewing soon. There it is, just as I predicted. 

"Linette, get back to your sewing! If you don't get married soon, you'll be doing it for the rest of your life so you better get used to the needle pricks!" My father's voice bellows and shakes every bough in the house. I let out a heavy sigh and peer down at the pillowcase I am embroidering. The wonky eyes of a cat stare back at me. My stitches are all over the place and compared to my mother's, look a state. Oh dear. I think I may have to take a break. 

"Father! I'm just going to visit Madra!" I yell back at him. I can hear him  sighing now. 

"All right, but as long as you carry on with your embroidery when you get back. And don't forget to take her those tit-bits your mother baked. Say it's nothing, we don't mind sharing our daily bread with respectable friends of the family who are married." He puts particular emphasis on that last sentence and I roll my eyes, even though I know he cannot see. I quickly put together a bag. My mother's home-baked pie wrapped in cloth and some eggs from our hens carefully placed in a horse hair bag and a goatskin of milk from our cow. I also stuff my last embroidery project into the large bag to give to her as a present for her daughter, Kaytlyn. My mother and father like Madra so much, just because she is married and a mother herself. They don't hide it, so I am constantly reminded that they would prefer her as a daughter, not me. Despite this, we are good friends and her husband, Darren, is very friendly and is always kind to me, even though he always feels a little out of place when I have girly chats with Madra as all her other friends bring their own husbands so the men can have a manly talk too. But now I guess he doesn't feel all that awkward because he has Kaytlyn to pretend to play with whilst he eavesdrops on our conversation.

I slip the bag into the crook of my elbow and pull on my shoes. The door creaks open and I step straight into a puddle. Great. I forgot about the rain. My shawl is on the table so I nip back in and fetch it before braving it and hurrying down the street with it over my head and my feet avoiding sewage and, of course, other puddles.By the time I get to Madra's house, my hair is soaked and sticking to my cheek, but when Madra opens the door with Kaytlyn on her hip, all I can do is smile. She is my closest friend, of course. And it does help that her child is adorable. Kaytlyn still has those chubby baby cheeks. Her angelic blonde curls are slowly extending around her face and her sparkling sky blue eyes light up when she sees me. See, I wouldn't mind having a child if they were as much of a delight as Kaytlyn. But unfortunately, not all children are as well-behaved as her. Madra smiles too when she sees me and steps aside for me to walk in. 

"Oh, you poor thing!" she says and grabs a relatively clean cloth to dry my hair with.

"Madra, I'm the same age as you, so you don't have to treat me like Kaytlyn!" I say jokingly. Kaytlyn reaches out for me at the sound of her name so I scoop her from Madra's arms and hug her tightly. I treat her as if she's my little sister. Then I pull the embroidery out of my sodden bag. Of course it's wet, but Kaytlyn still loves it. Just the joy when she sees it makes me feel warm inside. Madra is watching us, smiling knowingly.

"You'd make a great mother, Linette," she says. " You really would." I laugh off the comment, then remember the baked goodies in my bag and hand them to a grateful Madra. She doesn't depend on us, but the extra food does help, now she's got Kaytlyn to feed as well. "We have a new goat now, so we won't be needing the milk any more," Madra announces proudly and gestures to the back door. I follow her hand and peer out the door. A small, very wet, whit goat stands out in the back yard, shivering. 

"Aw, the poor thing. Why don't you bring it inside? It's shivering like there's no tomorrow!" I coo. Madra gasps but holds back a smile. 

"I forgot it was raining," she mumbles. Rushing outside, she hustles the scraggly bag of bones inside. Kaytlyn immediately starts to fidget, so I set her down and she toddles over to the poor goat and wraps it in an embrace.

"Poor ickle gowt," she says in her baby voice. Madra and I just have to coo at that, it's just too cute. Then I apologize to Madra, but I have to get back to my embroidery at home.

"Good luck, future seamstress!" she teases, and I scowl back at her.

"Bye then," I say and step out the door. A cold drop of rain drips down my neck and I wince, but I close the door gently and hurry home.