The People of Dewbrook

Chapter Twelve

When it came to Mildred, things were much plainer. At the very least, she was fortunate to be a mere observer when it came to Rosemary's issues, even if she was able to imagine how tragic it must have been for the family. However, to her, life had become nothing more than a string of days that were all pitiful excuses for idyll, saddling her with the ennui that always tended to come in the existence of a meek housewife as far as she was concerned. She rarely went out, she cleaned the house until every last speck of dust was gone, she made the meals with the utmost love and care she could muster, and she took care of her children, the latter of which was her favourite duty by far. Even though Stephen had been forgetting to pay them any attention on quite a lot of occasions as of late, she would never do that, for they were so precious and lovely to her. Speaking of Stephen, the thought of him sometimes haunted her mind, for there was a lot that she wished to say to him, but never could.

She was afraid to step out of her lane, but she was also afraid that her husband could be lost to debauchery forevermore, and one can only imagine what it is like to be a woman torn by those two fears. She barely spoke to him when he came home from the tavern, which he often did at two in the morning and sometimes even at the crack of dawn, and she was fortunate that he never inquired her much about her visible concern either. She was pretty certain that it was solely due to the strong influence alcohol had on him, but at least she never had to tell him anything, which she counted would last until she was prepared to do so. She presumed that there were many things that he, too, was afraid to tell her, but he was a man, and it was what mattered the most in this situation.

That did not matter during the first morning of February 1891, though. A new month had begun with golden rays of the sun that shone brightly even amidst the ongoing winter. The coldness of nature feared its warmth, even if slightly so, allowing the burdened flowers that grew amongst the tall grass, as well as the burdened black branches of dead trees, to be relieved for a short amount of time. The winter breeze did not chill her much, even though her skin was sensitive to low temperatures. The pale blue sky welcomed the pale sun with open arms, uniting with it into a true picture of gentleness and serenity. The larks sang outside with utter merriment in their voices. She and her children had woken up early, truly mirthful to be alive on such a pleasant day. To them, the following hours seemed like an eternity that they could spend doing anything that suited their moods, having no obligation in sight. Taking the jump rope, they swiftly ran outside, meeting each other under a birch tree that was full of dead leaves.

Mildred held the jump rope as her children enthusiastically counted to a hundred in perfect harmony, jumping with great mastery and grace. She had always been proud of their flexibility. For what seemed to be somewhere around half an hour, they jumped without a single thought that held no joy in it, but then, Andrew remembered something, and he felt the great need to announce it. He said the following words:

"Mother, where has Father gone? Neither I nor my sister has seen him last night, so we thought that you might know something of it."

Mildred's right hand shook with great terror, tangling the legs of her children together and causing them to fall to the ground, fortunately hurting them only momentarily. Her heart beating like a drum, she instantly rushed to nurse her children and give them both a thousand kisses on the forehead, sobbing with great might.

"I give you the most profound of apologies. I am such a terrible mother, really, I am! How could have I made a mistake of this gravity?! My mind is but a mess, and I am reeling from it at every waking moment. I was afraid, but I could not... I could not answer your question... I am sorry."

"I do not understand the issue," Emma said in her sweet little voice, the sound of which made her mother cry tears of happiness, which once again became those of bitterness as horrible memories returned to her like the waves of a vast and terrifying sea. The roll of the dice. The stench of alcohol. The denial of any problems whatsoever. The promises her husband wanted to keep, but never could, for his vices were stronger than his desire to do good. The kisses of another woman on his cheeks, his neck, his- No, no, that last one was not true! It never could be, right?!