The warmth of the sun shone on a pleasantly dry dirt road, and Adah was glad. On the days when it rained, as it so often did, the paths became unbearably muddy, making every-day tasks difficult and traveling nearly impossible. Adah’s father said that in cities like Canterbury and London, there were streets paved with stone, but Adah had never ventured outside of Westmorland. The thought of such wealth and prosperity made her shiver: she could barely imagine being certain of having food for the entire winter, let alone being able to walk around freely whether it was raining, snowing, or sleeting. Her family was by no means poor, they had a front window with glass in it, but they were, like all the modest inhabitants of the area, almost completely dependent on the harvest and the good opinion of their superiors. If the crop was bad one season, or a baron or earl decided to neglect or pillage their village for political reasons, they would starve and be reduced to begging. That was just how life was. Adah had come to expect such tragedies, and it no longer bothered her when all they had for supper for a week straight was acorn soup, or when the majority of her mother’s new babies died before they were a year old. She was a down to earth, logical person, and she learned from an early age that if you allowed the emotions of hardship to affect you, you’d soon be dead, and being dead didn’t do you or your loved ones any good. It was one less set of hands to do work and one more loss piling up in their lives.
“The roads are nice and dry today.” A dainty female voice startled Adah’s reprieve, and she nearly gasped out of surprise. For a moment the voice sounded exactly like her older sister Katherine, who had died about two years ago. Even though Adah considered herself to be a reasonable person, she was not totally immune to the horrifying tales the local priest told about ghosts and demons haunting the sinful. Had Katherine’s ghost come back to haunt her for some unknown sin? Had she not prayed for Katherine’s soul enough?
Just as Adah was beginning to mutter the Pater Noster to herself, she turned and let out a massive sigh of relief. It was just her younger sister Cecelia, who, now that she was 13, was beginning to resemble Katherine in appearance and manner. Adah was only slightly embarrassed; she often mistook one of her siblings for another one, either living or otherwise. After Katherine’s sudden death of pneumonia, Adah became the eldest daughter in the family and was responsible for taking care of the younger children, which was when the confusion began. It was a burden in the sense that she was especially affected when one died under her care, but it kept her busy and would prepare her for the time when she herself would be a mother.
“Adah, are you alright? You look pale.” Cecelia had lines of worry creasing her pretty pale skin. Ever since the death of Katherine, as well as two young babies named John and Anne, Cecelia had become a paranoid hypochondriac. Her greatest fear was losing one of her remaining five siblings. Adah smiled ruefully at her little sister, who still possessed that innocent naivety that allowed her to believe that the newest baby, tentatively named Susanna once she had lived past two months, would ever even walk. Adah knew better, but was afraid to break Cecelia’s spirit.
“Yes, I’m fine.” That was all the assurance Cecelia needed and she was soon smiling again.
“Anyway, I’m so glad the roads are dry and Benjamin didn’t have to come with us.” Benjamin was the oldest of the family, and on top of that, was the only male above the age of 12, so he was favored by both of their parents and allowed to do as he pleased. On days when it rained, Adah’s parents forced Benjamin to accompany the girls wherever they went. The idea was that when the roads were muddy and little could be achieved; older men would drink away their frustration and prey on young girls. Benjamin hated being dragged along, and would punish them for it by pulling their hair, trying to make them drop their baskets, spitting on them, and calling them cruel names. Adah could hardly believe that some boys were married at the age of 17. Benjamin was 17 but as immature as 12 year old James! She couldn’t picture him doing whatever mysterious things married people did, having his own children and house, and she doubted he’d improve over time. She pitied the poor girl who would get stuck with Benjamin when he was 40. He would still have the spirit of a teenager, but would be frustrated with having the body of an old man, and would probably turn to violence.
“Me too! I hate bloody Benjamin!” A small, squeaky voice called from the other side of Cecelia. Even before turning to look, there could be no mistake as to which of Adah’s siblings had spoken: little 9 year old Lilith had a fiery passion all her own. She was outspoken and never did anything she didn’t want to. She was sweet and caring when she wanted to be, but sh
but she was always determined. Adah had no doubt that her parents didn’t hold high hopes of marrying Lilith off to a wealthy man, if Lilith did not love him. She wished she could be as strong as Lilith, but at the same time she knew that it would make life difficult and earn her many enemies in a world where women were supposed to do as they were told without question.
“Lilith! You mustn’t say things like that!” Adah reached over Cecelia and slapped Lilith lightly on the cheek, hard enough to make it sting just a little. Hot tears spilled from Lilith’s eyes almost instinctively.
“I’m sorry….but Benjamin’s….so….cruel!” Her tiny chest shuddered as she spoke in between sobs.
“He is, but you shouldn’t say you hate him, and you definitely shouldn’t swear. That’s breaking a commandment. You should pray for forgiveness.” Lilith nodded obediently and clasped her hands together, shutting her eyes and murmuring to herself eagerly.
Truthfully, Adah wasn’t sure if she believed in what the
the church said about God and Jesus sending their wrath down on everyone who sinned. She wasn’t sure if she believed in God, because her family hadn’t done anything wrong, yet they were poorer than the corrupt earls and barons, and her siblings died off like livestock. If she had more time to think, Adah suspected that she wouldn’t believe in anything the priests told her. But there wasn’t anything else to believe in; anyone who wasn’t a Christian was a heretic, except Jews, and they had to live in stone houses to protect themselves. Besides, the fear of being wrong and suffering eternal hellfire was too frightening. She supposed that was the point of these scare tactics, to force people into supporting the Church, and she was ashamed to say it worked on her.
As Lilith finished her prayer and ended with a whispered “Amen”, Adah and Cecelia crossed themselves just in case. Looking at her sisters, Adah realized that they looked plumper than usual. Food was usually more abundant in the summer but this year seemed especially prosperous. She wondered how tough this winter would be, if slowly but surely Cecelia’s and Lilith’s bodies would consume the small amount of fat they now possessed, if their bones would begin to show, their bellies bulge from malnutrition. Adah sighed. She felt personally responsible for her five siblings now that Katherine was gone. Her mother and father were nearing middle age and the duty to care for the family now fell on her and Benjamin, who was too useless to be of any help. But what was she supposed to do? She was fifteen years old; she wouldn’t be taken seriously in business pursuits. The only plausible answer was to marry a wealthy man who would be willing to support her family.
She was still a child! She only had a remote idea of how babies were made, and she could barely imagine herself being in a large house, let alone being the mistress of it.
She suppressed a heavy sigh. Oh, Katherine. Why did you leave me? The kind-hearted and pious Katherine would have been perfectly content to marry whomever her family desired her to. She would have known exactly how to handle the upcoming winter and how to keep everyone fed. As the oldest daughter for 15 years, she had been taught all the ways of keeping a household together, with the expectation that she would in turn teach Adah. Now she was gone and her mother was too tired and old to bother to instruct another daughter. Adah found herself unreasonably blaming Katherine. Dying really doesn’t do anyone any good. It takes a way a sister and a best friend, but adds grief and a new set of responsibilities. It takes away a soul but leaves behind a pair of shoes to be filled. .
There really was no choice. The survival of her family depended on Adah’s willingness to take the first step in Katherine’s shoes. She was no longer a child.
Unknowingly, Adah had stopped in the middle of the road. Cecelia and Lilith stood a few feet ahead, curiously waiting for her. She envied their roles as innocents, young girls who could still imagine a large turkey dinner for Christmas and marrying for love. She was giving up these dreams for them.
Adah took a step forward. “There, Katherine. There.”
