A Promise Kept (FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS)

1 Indebted

*A/N: Trigger warning for this chapter here. Some graphic descriptions of violence.

"Happy birthday, dear," my mother said warmly, kissing the top of my head as she sat the small pastry in front of me. I smiled up at her in thanks but then reached for my knife and cut the treat into four pieces. I handed my mother one and then my father.

"Sixteen," Evelyn sneered. "Weren't you supposed to be married by now?"

"For that," I told her. "You don't get a piece."

And I popped the final piece into my mouth. She squealed and dove for the one remaining on my plate but I pulled it away before she could make contact, grinning crudely at her so that the puffy bread showed through my teeth.

"Girls!" my mother exclaimed, appalled by our behavior. Ever the dutiful daughter, I set my plate back down onto the table. Ever the obstinate daughter, Evelyn snatched the final bite of pastry before I could bat her away, tossing it into her open mouth and chewing it triumphantly. I rolled my eyes and pushed back from the table, standing and announcing that I wished to get a head start on the baking if Evelyn and mother were to be out all day and father and I would be alone at the shop. My mother nodded her permission and I left the kitchen, descending the stairs into the shop below.

Finding my apron on the hook by the door, I placed it over my head and got to work. I thought, not for the first time, about how fortunate I was to work in a profession in which there were opportunities to take out one's aggression. Kneading the dough was difficult work and the sticky mass could take a bit of abuse and still turn out to be the fluffiest and most pleasant bread you had ever tasted. Today was one of those days in which I took advantage of the necessity of elbow grease. And today, much like the others, it was because of my sister.

Mentioning that I was supposed to have been married. As if father's tirade concerning unkept promises were not enough to endure the night before, I had even tolerated my mother's remarks on how she had been precise in her presumption that the boy would not return. And now Evelyn thought it prudent that she provide her commentary on the matter in form of jest. I pounded the dough upon the counter in front of me, blowing a strand of hair from my face as I did.

Of course, I hadn't expected him to return. Not truly. But I had thought of him in the weeks preceding my sixteenth birthday. This was, after all, the date which had been set for our wedding within that contract signed and forgotten so long ago. I pressed harder down than I meant to while kneading and split the dough. Sighing, I reached for the rolling pin to start over.

"We're off, dear," I heard my mother's voice cooing as she entered the kitchen. I turned to see her and Evelyn, dressed in the finest clothes they owned which were still frayed at the hems by comparison. They waved eagerly at me and I nodded in response, my hands busy with my work. I watched them leave, their skirts brushing against the doorframe as they exited, and then returned to the dough.

What my mother knew was that it was unseemly to marry off a younger daughter before an elder if an arrangement was not already in place upon the younger turning sixteen. So it had become a necessity to find Evelyn a match as soon as possible so they could begin the hunt for mine. Therefore, my mother had met with a woman in town who had a son my sister's age, or perhaps a year older, and who was respectable enough to warrant a visit in an attempt to secure a match. What my mother did not know was that Evelyn already had a boy in town whom she was already quite interested in if the amount of times I had been forced to sneak from our room late at night to retrieve her from her visits with him had been any indication.

He was a soldier, stationed in Raleigh at the beginning of the war. They had built quite an encampment here on the outskirts of the village. The number of soldiers and generals nearly outnumbered the people in the town by now. My father had been pleased at first, certain that the hungry soldiers would venture into his shop and purchase some freshly baked bread with their generous royal pensions. But it seemed that the men ate what they were rationed by the King, nothing more. I would been lying if I claimed I hadn't searched for him. When the regiment first arrived, I milled about the encampment for days, wondering if the boy who had promised he would return had done so in the form of a militia. But I never saw him among the soldiers and, feeling quite as foolish as the girls who hung about the encampment for quite different reasons, I headed home and I never returned.