The Noble Ladies' Orphanage

Chapter 15

"Lend me a hand, little brother," Jan called out to Marcus. Marcus couldn't see Jan, but the voice came from up in the trees, and he heard rustling sounds and grunts.

Marcus, tired from his early day at Maraček's dairy, had just walked through the front gate toward his family's thatched roof home. He smelled food and saw smoke curling up out of the chimney.

"Can it wait, Jan?" Marcus asked. "I'm hungry."

"No, it can't wait," Jan said. Marcus sighed and trudged up the short hill to where Jan's voice came from. He saw that Jan was dragging a hefty log from the west clearing through the grove toward the hen house. Jan's fair face shone red as beet soup as he struggled with the log.

Marcus scrambled through the trees and hefted the back end of the leg.

"Ah, much better," Jan said. "Thank you."

Marcus tripped on a knot as they left the grove, but he regained his balance and didn't fall all the way to the ground.

"Still growing into those big feet, are you?" Jan said.

"What are you going to do with this log?" Marcus asked, brushing off the jab. "Or are you just dragging it around to build your muscles?" The same height as Marcus, Jan was probably twice as wide and hard as a rock.

Jan laughed. "Good one," he said. "I'm building an addition to the hen house. You know how I started making deliveries in town? Well, my town customers want more than we have to sell right now, so we're expanding."

"Are you just selling eggs in town?"

"Right here," Jan said, using his chin to motion to a pile of logs next to the back side of the hen house. Jan slowly lowered his end of the log, but Marcus dropped his end, causing the logs beneath to roll in both directions. One of the bottom logs rolled over Marcus's foot.

"Ow!" he yelled. He pulled his hurt foot free from the log and sat down so he could hold the foot until it stopped throbbing.

Jan rolled his eyes and sauntered down the hill to the house where their mother stood on the front stoop in her apron.

"Boys! Time to eat!" she called out. She held a basket of bread in her hand, and Jan grabbed a piece as he walked in. "Where's Marcus?" she asked.

"Oh, he's up by the hen house," Jan said, "nursing a wound."

"A wound? Is he all right? Their mother asked.

"As all right as is possible with him, I suppose," Jan said. He washed his strong, tanned hands in the wash basin between the bedrooms and dried them on the towel that hung on the wall.

Marcus limped into the house, kissed his mother's cheek, and collapsed at the table, which was set with just four place settings.

"Who's missing?" Marcus asked.

"Tomas," his mother said. "He's eating with Klara's family. Wash up." Klara. With her tiny waist and ribbons in her thick curled hair. Lucky Tomas.

While Marcus was washing up, his father walked in, hung his straw hat on its wall peg, and joined him at the basin.

"How was your work with Maraček today?" his father asked.

"Fine, I guess," Marcus said.

"Did you bring home any milk today?" Marcus's mother asked.

Marcus winced. "I forgot," he said.

"Forgetful boy," she said. "You wouldn't forget a thing like that, would you, Jan?" she said, one thick fist on her hip, leaning in toward her handsome son.