Falling Skyward

Chapter Three: Carnivals and Compromises

"But Uncle, I already promised Gailen we would go to the bazaar together tonight." Lana emphasized her words by smacking the now-scoured pot on the table.

"And I already told you, I will not have my only niece fraternizing with gypsies and vagabonds." Orrick's steely voice matched the brooding cold of his eyes.

"I can't disappoint him, not after all the trouble he's been having at school. He's been looking forward to this all season." Lana didn't bother mentioning her excitement. Few travelers came this far north, and Lana was fascinated by the gypsies' bright clothing, strange accents, and wonderful stories.

"Perhaps I can ask Talen to take him, John, and Katalia. It would be a shame for them to miss the festival."

"But that's not fair. Why do you let the others go but not me?"

"I already told you, Direc is coming for dinner."

"And, why should that affect me?"

"You know perfectly well he is coming specifically to see you." Orrick switched to his sermonizing tone. "I hope I do not need to remind you of your responsibilities as a hostess and as a woman in my household."

Lana plunged her hands back into the scalding water, her irises glinting almost purple as she returned to the dishes. Then, she paused, raising her chin. "I promised Gailen we would go together."

Lana's tone made it explicit she did not expect a reply. The statement settled on the floor with a dull thud.

Lana had tactically decided to ease into the subject of the carnival after supper, once her wild root soup had a chance to satisfy and calm her uncle. But her plea had been no more successful than her attempts the past five springs.

After her dream last night, Lana could not be satisfied with her uncle's refusal. She needed to see the old gypsy fortune teller again. She would go to the festival, whatever it required.

And her uncle had unwittingly provided her a solution, however distasteful.

Lana threw herself into dinner preparations, making an event of the meal. While the bread fried over the fire, Lana changed into her favorite midnight-blue dress with pale-yellow lacing and plaited her hair in an elaborate braid. Then, she waited for Direc.

As soon as Lana saw Direc's colorless hair weaving like a specter down the lane, she gathered up her skirts, running to him. With his shoulders slumped and eyes fixated on the ground, Direc did not notice Lana until she stood directly before him.

"Hello Direc. I'm so glad you've come." His eyes flicked over Lana's cheeks, glowing against her brown skin, before they returned to the ground.

Lana fidgeted with an imaginary stray strand of hair and rechecked the lacings of her dress before continuing, her voice less breathless.

"I hope you've had a good day."

"Yes, quite."

"Good, I am glad to hear it. I hope you are hungry. I've made something special for you: scones with strawberries and cream."

"That's very nice." Neither moved, neither spoke. Lana let the silence build, wondering whether she had misinterpreted Direc's constant stares and frequent visits. For the first time, she hoped she had not been mistaken.

"Well then let's go back to the house. Dinner should almost be finished." Lana intertwined her arm with Direc's, relieved by his body's favorable response to her touch.

"How is your family, Direc? Are your mother and your sister doing well?"

"Yes, quite well."

"That's wonderful. And the harvest? Does your father anticipate a good harvest this year?"

"As good as is to be expected."

"Splendid. I can't bear the thought of you or your family wanting. Besides," Lana looked over at Direc, her eyes turned down, a shy smile brushing her lips. "I would hate to think of anything interrupting your visits."

As red flushed along Direc's neck and ears, Lana looked away to hide her amusement.

"Well, I will tell them . . . umm . . . my family, I mean, about your concern and errr . . . thoughtfulness."

"You do that." The couple broke free from the shadows and onto a pathway lined with vibrant moss and the first, stunted flowers of the year. They were approaching the house too quickly. Lana stopped to inspect the subtle veins in a petal.

"You've been working so hard, Direc, not only to take care of your own family but to help my uncle as well. I appreciate so much what you have done for us."

"Yes, well, there's a lot to prepare for. But, I . . . I hope you know I come here not only to help your uncle."

Lana smiled bashfully. "I wish there was something that I could do. I wish I could help take some of the burdens away." Lana slid her arm into Direc's again, looking into his eyes until he was forced to look back.

After a moment, she continued. "Have you heard about the festival tonight?"

"Yes."

"There are supposed to be games, a gypsy bazaar, storytelling, even dancing. Nearly the entire town will be there. It should be fun."

"If you like that kind of silliness."

"I suppose it all depends on the company you go with."

"Quiet evenings at home, that's the best way to spend a night. Festivals become too loud."

"That's true." Lana recouped, trying to find another way to convince him. "I was just thinking, a few boys from town have been paying me more attention lately . . ."

Direc's eyes jumped to Lana's face, wide and startled. "Who?"

"Oh, just a few of the hired hands and shipwright's men—it doesn't really matter. But I was thinking if we went to the festival together, with the whole town being there, then everyone would know. They would understand that I was . . ."

"My girl." Lana was unsettled by the finality, the possessiveness in Direc's voice. The storminess seeping into his eyes only heightened her uneasiness.

"Well, maybe it was a silly idea anyway. My uncle would probably object to the frivolity."

"No," the syllable sounded like a command. "I'll sort things out with your uncle. We'll leave after dinner."