Kay's Story pt 5 - A Looming Decision

The cheerful tinkle of young girlish laughs gently nudged Elianna from her dreams the following morning.  The corners of her mouth curled in and up involuntarily, even with such a disgruntling lack of sleep, for she recognized the mischievous tones full of mock indignation.  Rosemary and Violet were once again feigning horror at Thomas Key’s intention to kill a slew of chickens to sell at the market.  The girls took it upon themselves to play with, name, and essentially raise the chicks when they hatched.  When the day came that Uncle Thomas, as they called him, went into the barn for the axe, they worked themselves into a great huff, threatening the older man with great, leaping boasts—“Why if you come near Betty and Henrietta with that axe, Uncle Thomas, Rosemary will cry a puddle of tears so deep that all the roots of your pretty crops will rot out completely and you and aunt Louisa and Elly and Stephan will starve in the dank, dark cold of winter!” Violet warned, as Rosemary took her cue, throwing herself over the haystack to cry hearty sobs, which were really belting laughs in disguise.  Thomas Key would set his jaw firm and regretfully state that he would have to take his chances; he had to fulfill his orders—especially those of Lord Ashmore.  It would seem that Lord Ashmore had two daughters whose absolute favourite meal was chicken pot pie. At this the girls bewailed and moaned, “No, Uncle Thomas!  Oh the brutality!” and skip off across the fields as Henrietta was gathered and set across the chopping block.

            Elianna’s smile deepened as she recalled how many times this scene had played out over the years.  A narrow shaft of light bent around the humble home to sneak a peek into Elianna’s chamber, eager to light up that golden hair with fresh glory.  Its warmth buoyed Elianna’s spirit as she fell out of bed, traipsing carelessly downstairs into the kitchen. 

            Louisa Key stood at the end of the heavy oak table, roughly kneading dough.  Her pretty blue flowered apron bore streaks of flour, and tendrils of soft waves fell forward in front of her eyes.  At Elianna’s entrance, she glanced up at her daughter worriedly; she was not one to sleep in. 

            “How is my favourite daughter this fine summer morn?” Louisa asked, transferring the dough into one pan and then another.

            “Wrought with sorrow over the tragic ends of poor Henrietta and Betty Hen, of course,” Elianna replied, pouring some hot water from the full kettle into a mug.

            Louisa stuffed the pans into the oven, swept up the dough crumbs into her apron, and tossed them into the fire.  She brushed her floury hands and arms on the blue fabric and used her sleeves to remove the wisps of hair from blocking her gaze.

            “You tossed in your sleep much last night,” she stated, taking up a stool beside her daughter.  “I could hear you.”

            “I did?” Elianna asked disinterestedly, dipping a honey stick lazily in her mug. 

            “Yep,” Louisa answered.  She paused and added, “You were calling out again, too.  Must’ve been just before dawn when I heard you.”

            Elianna raised and lowered her eyebrows, not surprised. 

            “What’s on your heart, darling?”

            “George has returned.”

            “Yes I know,” Louisa smiled, “He came ‘round here yesterday looking for you.  Had a package tucked under his arm and a bounce in his step, that’s for certain.  I told him he could likely find you behind the Mayhurst fields.”

            “He found me.”

            “Just the same, isn’t he?” Louisa smiled knowingly at Elianna, who smile back.

            “Yes,” Elianna sighed, “And do I ever love the things that are unchanging.”

            “And so…?” Louisa prodded, “What happened?”

            “That package he was carrying was for me from Sylvia,” she explained.

            “Sylvia?  Scottish Sylvia?  Why, what cause had she to write you?”

            “She wrote ‘from burdened constraint’ bidding me to go there, to Scotland, and work as governess to her two youngest siblings.”  From there Elianna laid out all the details and arguments of Sylvia’s case while her mother listened patiently, eyes growing quite wide.

            When the full proposition had been relayed, Louisa got up to check on the loaves, whose smell had slowly infused the kitchen and dining room area with a most intoxicating aroma.

            Elianna studied her mother’s steady gaze, searching for a clue as to her reaction and thoughts on the matter.  When no clue flashed its face, she asked her, “What do you think, mama?” 

            Louisa let a few moments pass before untying her apron and hanging it upon the hook.  “I think,” she began, “that I will miss my daughter very much.”

            Elianna’s eyebrows furrowed.  “But I haven’t decided to go!  I—”

            “Haven’t you?” Louisa cut in.

            “Of course not!  I have work here—”

            “Unsteady work that you don’t enjoy.”

            “Yes but Josephine needs—”

            “Josephine has been keeping you on as a favour to your pa.”

            Elianna fidgeted on her stool.  “I could find other work.”

            “Not these days you couldn’t,” Louisa corrected, removing the fat loaves from the oven, setting them on trivets to cool.

            “Well, I couldn’t leave you and pa and Stephan.  It’s already so hard on you with Peter away.  You don’t need to worry after another child far away.

            “I’ll worry about you here or there, child, and commit you into the hands of my faithful Father if you’re near or far.  All things are in His hands.”

            “Do you think this is His will, then?”

            Louisa returned to the stool, sitting beside her hesitant daughter once more. 

            “I think that this opportunity would stretch and grow you, Elianna, in ways that would be to the end of forming Christ in you, if you submit yourself to learning these lessons.”

            “I don’t know if my heart can bear it, mama.  She loves him as strongly as ever.”

            “What is his heart toward her?” Louisa asked gently.

            “I don’t know.  He hasn’t written me in the longest time,” Elianna divulged, a tear spilling out over and down her smooth, blushing cheek.  Louisa brushed it away, holding her cheek affectionately in her hand.

            “I’m sorry darling,” she sympathized.  “But I don’t think that facing Sylvia head on could be anything but good for you in the long run.  It’s a great work opportunity.  You love teaching and children.  And I’ve seen the longing mist over your eyes when I know you’re daydreaming of the glorious coasts of Scotland.  The only legitimate reason I can see for you to stay would be if George…”

            “George?  If George what?” Elianna asked, confused.

            Louisa gave her daughter a look implying that she should know what she meant.

            “George and I are like siblings, mama!  He’s just like Stephan or Peter to me,” she balked.

            “I can recall you saying the same things about David not too many moons ago.” 

            “There is no comparison between George and David or my friendship with either of them.”

            “George loves you, Elianna.”

            Elianna sighed and made ready to go wash up.  “I know, mama.  But I wouldn’t be good for him.  He is good and steady.  I am too restless.  I need—“

            “Adventure.  Challenge.  You need to send word to Sylvia telling her you’re coming,” Louisa finished.

            “I need to pray,” Elianna said softly to herself, ascending the stairs to her chambers again.