Charming Heathra - a novella companion to Dirty Lying Faeries

Falling out

Heather

December, 1948

I sat on my bed, staring at the new luggage.

Did I really spend my money on this? It was such a permanent thing. Solid proof of my belief in Arthur, and the nail in the coffin that I was leaving the farm.

With a fluttering heart, I opened the first of two leather cases. The interior was a soft white canvas with straps to hold down stacks of folded clothes. I looked over to my drawers of clothes, catching my lower lip between my teeth.

How much could I take at a time without Viola noticing? Then again, so what if she noticed? The solstice was only two weeks away, and I had to have this conversation with her eventually.

I pulled open the drawers slowly. I didn't really own that much clothing, but I went ahead and put a few of my favorite things in the first luggage case. I left things I didn't mind leaving behind, save for one nice dress I could wear to the party. Hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to wear while riding my motorcycle, but that was a problem for later.

There wasn't much else that I wanted. Pa and Mama lived simply. We didn't own a lot of things, but there were some mementos of Pa I wouldn't mind having. His old smoking pipe, one of the few things he spent much money on. Not that I smoked, but it was Pa's.

I went into Mama's room and glanced around at what we hadn't cleaned and stored away. The pipe sat on the corner table, just where Pa always kept it. I took that, and then moved to the kitchen.

Viola always liked Mama's china. She could keep it, all I wanted was one of Gran's candlesticks. I reached up to the high cabinet where the nice things were kept, stretching my arm to the back.

"Heathra!" Viola startled me.

My arm jerked, knocking some of the dishes over, but thankfully not breaking any.

"Viola!" I said. "You're home early."

"I'm home precisely on time." She frowned at me as she unbuttoned her coat. "What are you doing in the china?"

I sighed, turning my attention back to the cabinet and carefully removing the candle stick. "I'm picking a few things from the house that I'd like to keep."

"Don't be ridiculous," Viola scoffed. "They're already ours, just keep them where they've always been."

I pulled out the candlestick, closing the cabinet. Placing the pipe and the candlestick on the table, I looked at Viola seriously. "We can't stay here forever, Viola."

She frowned. "What? Why can't we? We already own the farm."

"But we can't upkeep it without a lot of money," I said. "We aren't farmers, Viola. Pa was. And Grandpa. But unless you want to buy a horse and pick up where they left off, no one is farming anything here. The farm doesn't make money with us, it looses it."

"W-well, we could... We could try. We could hire farm hands, the Millers do that just down the road, now that Samuel is getting older."

"Is that what you want?" I asked. "To farm? What happened to teaching? Or working at a library?"

"Those are impractical dreams," Viola said, defensively. "The farm is already here."

"Yes," I groaned. "And you're only holding onto it because you remember Mama and Pa here."

"Heathra!" Viola snapped. "This is our home. We grew up here."

I sighed through my nose, pressing my fingertips into my temples where a headache was farming. "Viola, I know you have fond memories here, but it only brings me sadness. I can't live like this. Our lives have to keep going, Viola."