The Miner's Wife

Chapter 3: The deal

Katniss POV

I nervously knock on the door. It's ten to twelve. I didn't dare to be late today. Ivy rests her head on my chest and I stroke her head gently with one hand. My other hand holds an old paper bag, filled to capacity with her belongings. She doesn't have much.

It's a full minute before I finally hear shifting behind the door, followed by footsteps. I'm not surprised to find that Mr. Abernathy opens the door, instead of Mr. Peeta Mellark.

"Katniss, come in." Mr. Abernathy doesn't smile, but at least he doesn't seem dead drunk. His gaze rakes over me once. "Where is your boy?"

"He's at school," I answer hesitantly. "My mother will come here with him, along with the rest of our things, in the afternoon."

"Ah, school." Mr. Abernathy chuckles, as if remembering how carefree childhood could be. "How old is he now?"

"He'll be seven this spring," I tell him.

"Oh." I can tell what he's thinking. Arrow's too small for his age. I'm sure Mr. Abernathy knows why he is, too. He was once an underfed boy himself.

"Come inside. I just had a talk with Peeta."

"Sure..." I idle in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do with the bag in my hands. I laugh nervously when Mr. Abernathy takes it from me, and sets it down on the floor, just inside of the foyer. He takes my coat too, and hangs it on a freestanding coat rack as he walks into the living room.

I follow him inside, and my eyes fall on Mr. Mellark. He's sitting on the couch, an angry expression written across his face. I understand immediately how their conversation must've gone. Mr. Mellark gets up from the couch, reluctantly, but doesn't take the initiative to shake my hand or even say hello.

"I don't need anyone to babysit me, Haymitch," he hisses to the other victor. I look between them. With the exception of a few splatters of paint, Mr. Mellark's clothes are clean. The living room is relatively tidy and odorless. I can't help but think that Mr. Abernathy might need babysitting just as much, if not more, than Mr. Mellark. But it's not exactly as though this house is in pristine condition, either. I do see a crumpled up blanket on the couch and a pile of empty bottles against the far wall, beneath an open window. No wonder it doesn't smell of alcohol in here.

Finally, Mr. Mellark looks at me. He takes in my worn clothes, my thin frame, the pale skin of my face, and the skinny baby in my arms. It's as if something changes in his eyes, if only briefly. There's a softening of his features. "It's been a long time, Mrs. Hawthorne."

Yes, it has, although technically, we have never spoken. Our only real interaction was when he once threw me a couple of burned loaves of bread. He probably doesn't even remember that. But he saved my life. It would seem that he has saved my life yet again. Or rather he can, if he accepts Mr. Abernathy's arrangement. "It has, Mr. Mellark. Please, call me Katniss."

"If you'll call me Peeta."

I nod, blushing, even though I don't know why. I'm not sure if it's proper, but I don't question him.

"Okay, I'm not going to lie to you. Haymitch has been pushing me for several hours to accept this arrangement."

Fear surges through me. I was right. He hasn't made up his mind yet. "If it's the children, I can... I can..." My voice trails off. What can I do? Leave them in the Seam to freeze and see them in the evenings? Or would he want me to live here, without them?

He shakes his head. "It's not the children. It's just... Never mind." He looks at Ivy, who has just woken up and is looking around curiously. I fed her just before we left, so she's probably not hungry quite yet. "Hi there, sweetie, what's your name?" I'm surprised by Peeta's sudden change in demeanor, from reluctant and bitter to someone else entirely. Someone who smiles at my child.