Cathy of the green prairie

Catherine Faeheart

The Faehearts had finished their dinner a few minutes ago, their plates were now being taken away for washing, but their conversation still continued vividly, like a candle that could never run out. Cathy had gone over most of her life story through dinner, talking and explaining every story she ever experienced in the orphanages. By dessert, she got to talk to them about Anne. Her face had fallen slightly at the memory of her best friend, or blossom friend, as Anne used to call themselves. She made sure not to leave a single detail slip by, it was all she could do for her.

"She seems lovely," Her Mama had told her, Cathy could only insist that she truly was. She went over her last minutes at the Asylum before she was tragically parted from her friend and sat on the train. Cathy then told them about the despair that her hair had brought over many elderly women through the orphanages and the continuous remarks everyone had about it.

"The Sisters would always tell me not to mind what other people said," Cathy continued now when the table was cleared and they only had their glasses in front of them. She took a quick sip from the water to soften her throat again, all this talking was new to her, as she was usually told to stop talking. "They taught me how to seem indifferent to degrading comments and gibberish, they used to say," She held her giggles, making them come out little by little as she continued. "When people have nothing nice to say, it is because they see too much good," She paused, collecting herself. "Too much good they do not possess." 

"Well, they are quite right." Her Papa interfered. Cathy looked at him and smiled softly.

"Oh, I know they are." She looked back at her Mama. "They were very wise. But still, even if I acted as if it didn't affect me, it did." Her gaze fell a little. "I just imagined myself with beautiful golden locks or the same shade of brown as coffee beans are, and suddenly life was better." Mary rubbed her shoulder softly.

"Nonsense," Her voice was reassuring and honey-like, tender and comforting. "Sarah Josepha Buell Hale is a writer, she has written many books on housekeeping, cooking, and women's fashion, 'Godey's lady's book' is my favorite." This claimed Cathy's attention, she had read Godey's books of fashion from the 1830s, after a Nun's sister came to visit and left it behind, and she had loved every single bit. "Well, you see, in this year's edition all girls are illustrated with black hair." She whispered as if it were a secret.

"Really?" Cathy murmured back, a smile creeping on her face.

"Certainly, I can read it with you before bed, how does that sound?" 

"Perfect!" Cathy sat back happier than ever.

"Now, ladies," Max began, rising from the table. "I would like to propose a toast." While they had been talking the maids had brought a bottle of raspberry cordial, which Max was now pouring on empty glasses. "To our very lovely, family."  He raised his glass as Mary and Cathy took one.

"To our Cathy," Mary continued.

"To the Faehearts," Cathy concluded.

They drank and Cathy felt the sweetness of the red liquid as it touched her tongue. It was all just so splendid, she didn't want to have to go to sleep, just in case this was all a dream. If it was, she'd rather stay dreaming for the rest of her days.

They left the dining room and strolled through those unending hallways. Cathy was trying to carve every single detail into her brain, to be able to remember it forever, but for once she stopped herself. She had parents now, this was her house, was it not? Why bother remembering everything, when she was going to live here? this made her pleased, for once she would sleep in the same bed and under the same roof for longer than she ever had.

"Cathy," Max began as they turned towards a new room. "We would like you to sign your name," She was wondering what he meant when they reached the door of a sitting room with a fireplace and hundreds of paintings of weddings and communions. She laid eyes on it then. It was a family Bible. "So it cannot be denied, by anyone, that you, my child, are a Faeheart."  No words could express the amazing feeling that sparked inside her. This was real. Mary's comforting hands were on her shoulders, rubbing reassuringly as she handed her the quill. Cathy looked at both of them, tears forming in her eyes.