From Marley, with Love.

Chapter 61: The Yeager Household

Rosanna had to be careful while crossing the market, the ground was dirty and it was busy with marketmen breaking up shop. She leaped forward to escape a nervous horse that wanted to leave its hectic environment.

"I am sorry, miss!" she heard the marketman call out.

She turned around, smiling and waving at him.

"It's all right!" she called back before whipping back around and continuing her way.

Rosanna turned back around cupping her hands around her mouth.

"You happen to know where the Yeagers live?!" she called after him

The marketman's head shot up curiously, frowning puzzled, and scratching his beard. He pointed his big paw ahead.

"Their name is on a nameplate on their house, it'll be at the end of the marketplace!" he yelled back.

"Aye, thank you!" Rosanna replied, running off, flipping a few stray strands of hair over her fingers and trying to keep it away from her face.

Rosanna ran into the small lane, checking walls for nameplates. She stood still in front of a fenced house with a small front yard. A small, tired-looking woman stood up from her stooping position.

"Miss Bauer!" the small lady exclaimed, dropping her garden tool.

Rosanna turned to face the woman, fixing a polite smile on her face. She frowned as she took in the soft features of the woman's face. She raised both her brows when she recognized the woman.

"Mrs. Yeager!" she returned the exclamation, walking towards the older woman with a warm smile.

The two women were not extremely familiar, but a comfortable understanding had been reached over talks at the market, the hospital, or simply a friendly greeting when passing by.

"My, you have grown!" Mrs. Yeager said, gently squeezing the younger woman's arm. "When was the last time I saw you?" she scratched her temple, stroking away a few grey wispy hairs.

"I believe I was twenty or twenty-one, Ma'am."

"And how old are you now?"

"I'll be 27 in about a month."

For a moment a glimpse of melancholy seemed to wash over Mrs. Yeager.

"Oh, my sweet." She glanced at her front door, the wood had gotten blanched by years of sun and rain washing over it.

"Please come in, I'll make you some coffee."

"Is Zeke not in?" Rosanna inquired, taking the coffee from Mrs. Yeager and sitting down opposite the old but kind-looking Mr. Yeager.

"He is upstairs, packing up some stuff for his flat."

Rosanna nodded and carefully blew on her cup of coffee to cool it off. Curiously looking around the living room. It smelled good, like the soap that was usually sold once a month in a small corner of the market and old books that had been read over and over.

"You have such a wonderful house." She said carefully sipping her coffee. The flavor of the hot drink was incredibly familiar, Zeke made coffee the same way. Scalding and bitter-sweet. He had learned to make coffee from his grandmother after all.

"We have had it for as long as I can remember..." Mr. Yeager answered, sipping his drink as well.

"Is it a family possession?" Rosanna informed.
"It is." Mrs. Yeager replied. "It used to be my great-aunt's."

Rosanna smiled; houses were difficult to get by in the crowded internment zone. Many generations were born and raised under the same roof. Those with children in the army could gain the privilege of living in the farmer's district, but those were the lucky few. Many honorary Marleyans simply rented a fancy apartment near the main square. Close to the market and larger shops