"If it was one of our sigils, it has a name." There were names for the sigils. "There's the sign of the dead, the sign of the spirits, the eye and the hand... that's the one Mama had carved." The one all the adults did. "They didn't say any of the sigils." But does that mean it wasn't one of them? Maybe not. Maybe the twelve were keeping that within the halls of the church, so that the less devout wouldn't speculate on it.
"If it is a sigil, they'll name it. or the goddess will." And if it was a message from the goddess, it was likely a sigil. "I don't know, mom. Jus' don't." and it bugged her, as a woman filled with questions, not to know.
Ruth sighed. "I don't know either, love," she said, and put an arm around Eden. Perhaps someone had gotten a glimpse of the body aside from the Twelve, someone who would be able to share what the sigil was. "Is there any...precedent for this in the church?" she asked. "In scripture, or old stories, perhaps?" If it had happened before, then they'd at least know a bit of what to expect - if there would be more bodies, or if there was a purpose. If more bodies were needed, maybe it made sense that Carly hadn't come home yet. Perhaps she was a messenger in waiting. Ruth's head reeled, and she tried to keep herself from shaking in fear. There was no reason to be frightened, yet. She couldn't worry Eden like that.
"No, no hey, I'm not accusing you," Eve said, throwing her hands up to her sides in some vain act of defense. Evidence gathering was arduous with this society â with how these people were avoidant with giving her a direct answer, with how they simply refused to give something that wasn't hidden behind the veneer of their religion.
Eve shifted foot to foot and gave a sigh, allowing her arms to fully drop to the side, "Look, it's just about making sure I have all the facts, make sure we can rule people out, I'm not pointing fingers at you, I just want to know where you were last night, okay?"
Ruth nodded. She understood where Eve was coming from - due process and all that. And it made sense that Eve was questioning her - she'd made it no secret to law enforcement that she was a desperate woman these days. Desperate people do desperate things. It saddened her to think that this was the perception she had been left to give without her wife by her side. But still, she understood.
"Eden and I were at home all of last night," she said. Ruth had barely left the house for longer than the school day in the month since Carly had disappeared. She needed to be home in case Carly came back. But Carly kept not coming back, and now there was a body. And a symbol on the body. And the Twelve seemingly covering something up - not that Ruth could prove it, not yet. It was all still seeds taking root in her mind right now. She had bits and pieces and was trying to put them together. "I don't have much in the way of proof, beyond my daughter vouching for me, but there are leftovers in the fridge, if that does anything?" They weren't good leftovers. It had been a mediocre dinner, at best.
"Well I, for one, hope that the next to be snatched is one of the Brady children. There are too many of them and they're all a bit sticky, don't you think?" Zelda was standing on the edge of the square where the body had been found. The Twelve were still cloistered away, discussing endlessly as they always did, and Zelda didn't have high hopes that anything would come of their private conversations. She was in fact quite sure that whatever was happening around here was just the work of someone trying to rile everyone up, and it was certainly working.
"Do you now?" Ruth mused, and it wasn't much of a question. It didn't surprise Ruth to hear Zelda's comments. She enjoyed a callous demeanor to fit her strange reputation. But Ruth had taught three of the Brady children, and hadn't found any of them to be sticky. They were quite lovely, in fact. So, though she'd long thought the woman not worth her time, Ruth gave into this response. Besides, her mind was, frankly, elsewhere. "Is there some anticipation of this being a serial event?" She found herself asking. What had Zelda overheard in her dealings? What did she know? And whom else might she know something about?
"A boy." Eden answered, trodding alongside Ruth. the path to their home was well-worn, easily known by their feet, but it was still a long one. They lived on the outskirts of town. plenty of space for their chicken coop and trees with birdsong flanking their windows in the morning.
and quite a trek from town center.
"They didn't say. Or I didn't hear. but if both of us missed it, they probably didn't say. And I didn't get to see, either." Although to be honest, Eden wasn't sure she wanted to see. "There was a symbol carved in him." She looked at her left hand, even though she knew it was blank. "I wonder if it was a sigil."
"A sigil of the Veiled One, though, or something unknown?" Ruth asked. "I didn't hear them specify, but I don't know as well as you what to listen for." Eden looked at her left hand, blank like Ruth's while Carly's bore a symbol carved into it and scarred over. It was instantaneous, then, a third option for what had happened to Carly, one Ruth felt blind for not having considered. Carly had left the church so long ago, longer than Eden had. But could it have been the church? Could they have taken Ruth's wife? If the Veiled One was speaking through bodies, then the Twelve would need a supply in order to receive the messages.
"It wasn't Mama." Eden promised, soft as the two of them walked away from the high priestess's announcement. It was rare that anyone saw the twelve assembled like that, making announcements and declaring messages from the veiled one with such publicity. Typically, those words stayed within the walls of the church. Eden felt graced, Eden felt cursed. Eden wanted to talk to her mama about it, but her mama wasn't there. her mom was, though, and Eden was sticking close to ruth. "She might still be out there." Even on her tongue, the words felt hollow. "Right?"
It wasn't Mama. No, the body found, the breaking news, wasn't Carly. It sent a sliver of hope through Ruth. She desperately wanted to agree with Eden. She wanted Eden to be right, for Carly to be out there somewhere. She wanted to pretend she didn't know what happened when someone got lost in the woods. "It's not her," she agreed. "We don't know anything. Of course she could still be out there." But the words came out hollow, unsure. In truth she'd spent the past month mulling through two horrible options - that Carly had gotten lost in the woods, or that she hadn't - and neither of those options led to a path, as far as Ruth could see, in which Carly returned home to them. "Did they say who it was?" she asked then, trying to change the subject.
Eden and Carly had come home from market, each holding a heavy load of foods. Spring was good to them, as Carly had promised it would be. "carrots, cherries, potatoes, beets..." Eden was gushing as she unloaded it. "We're going to eat so good this week! look what we did!"
Carly smiled as she followed the excitable girl into the kitchen. "We sure did, honey." She took a moment, pausing to call up the stairs. "Love! Ruth, are you home?" It was a Sunday, where else would she be? "Come help us unload from the market!"
Ruth looked up from her desk where she'd been struggling to come up with new ideas for the curriculum. "I'll be just a second!" Little had changed in the last ten years or so that she'd been teaching, but she knew her methods were stale, not quite getting through to the students in the way she wanted them to. But unloading the bounty from the market was a welcome reprieve, and she placed her pen down and headed into the kitchen.
"Hello, loves," she said, squeezing Eden's shoulder and giving Carly a kiss on the cheek before taking a bag from her hands. "Oh, look, you've got apples! What a treat!" She took them out and placed them in a bowl on the counter. "Good trip, then?"
Eden looked particularly proud of herself when ruth noticed, a smile on her face. "Six of them. Two each! and I got them for half a dozen eggs. What a deal!" That had been her major contribution of the day, Carly was much better at haggling than her. but she was learning. "Great trip. You should've seen it. Spring bustle!"
Carly, for her part, leaned into the kiss, smiling and placng her own bag on the counter before kissing Ruth's cheek back.
"Fantastic!" Ruth called over, turning to beam at Eden. It was a marvel sometimes, just how much she and Carly had needed her in their lives without realizing it, and how perfectly she fit. She was theirs now. They were a trio. Ruth had never thought she would get that.
"Any fun happenings, or just a great selection of food?" she asked, unloading some lettuce into the sink to be washed. "Oh here, catch!" She tossed a potato in Eden's direction to go in the cabinet - only one, but it would do nicely cubed up in some soup. Not that Ruth would make the soup - she could help cut up the ingredients, but Carly tended to keep her away from anything more complicated than a plate of eggs.
Eden caught it easily, grinning at the catch. She was clearly pleased with herself about the catch, and carefully placed the potato in the cabinet. "some kids were playing capture the flag. One of them asked me to put it in my pocket. It was cute." She loved stuff like that, loved the community of the little town. It was funny, she hadn't felt it's warmth until Carly and Ruth had showed her. "Mama and I were pretty busy, though, with the shopping."
It registered in an instant when Eden said it. She and Ruth stilled at the exact same time. Carly turned, slightly, so she could face the girl she had long thought her daughter. "What did you just say, love?" she asked. They'd never talked about it, about Eden being theirs. Carly hadn't dared to hope.
Ruth felt the wind get knocked out of her, and as Carly spoke, she leaned ever so slightly on the counter. She watched the two of them, her favorite people in the entire world, entraced by what was happening. It was as if Eden had said a spell - or, in this case, a magic word. Ruth was torn between wanting to hear it again, hear Eden call her wife Mama, and a cruel jealousy that was desperate to hear herself referred to as a mother as well. Because Eden was their daughter, had been since they'd found her in the chicken coop.
They'd been so careful, letting Eden determine their relationship, not wanting to push her too hard or make her feel uncomfortable - she didn't talk a lot about what had happened to her with the worshippers of the Veiled One. They didn't pry. But on quiet nights they whispered to each other, hoping desperately that they were doing a better job of taking care of her than the ones she had fled from in the cold so long ago.
So Ruth waited, breath lodged in her throat, reaching out silently and taking Carly's hand.
Eden felt them freeze, panic and look at her. She wasn't even looking at them, having been putting the potato in the cuboard along with everything else, but years of panic left her with a distinct ability to sense when she'd said something wrong. running back through her words, she realized what had slipped out. mama.
She'd called them that, in her head. in dreams. mama and mom. There were dreams when she was younger, where they'd raised her. Those were good dreams. But they weren't her parents, they were just keeping her until there was enough food... until she could flee safely...
but spring had come, and nobody had asked her to-... maybe they didn't mind the help, maybe she'd get to stay, but that didn't make her their child. That was far too big a leap, and she was far too old to want that. She'd left her parents, willingly.
"I said we were busy. shopping." Eden turned around slowly, trying to dodge the question. her cheeks were flushed, clearly she knew what Carly meant. "That's all."
It wasn't all. They knew that, all three of them knew that. But Eden was nervous, a deer in a flashlight. She hadn't meant for it to come out, Carly realized. This wasn't her testing a word. It was an accident. What then, did that mean?
Carly didn't want to push. She and Ruth had talked about not pushing. But she loved Eden, and she wanted to hear that word again. Mama. She squeezed Ruth's hand, and then took a few steps closer to Eden.
"There's no shame here," Carly said, softly, placing one hand on Eden's shoulder and the other on her reddened cheek. "Eden, darling, you must know that by now. You can tell us anything." Tell them that she wanted to call them her moms, please, Carly wanted to beg. But she didn't. She just looked at the young woman in front of her, and dared to hope.
It was hard not to melt when one was being held so gently. there's no shame here. That hadn't been true at all when she'd been growing up. But it was true here, and Eden believed it, she really did. "In my head, I forget." Eden admitted, slowly. "to call you Carly and Ruth. Sometimes." she swallowed, looking over at ruth, across the counter. "It's stupid. I had a family, and I ran away."
Eden turned to look at Ruth and oh.
This girl. This beautiful, wonderful girl, who looked so frightened in this moment, didn't call them Carly and Ruth in her head. She'd run away from a family, sure, but she'd found them. She'd found them and they were a new family now. And Ruth couldn't form words, could only wait and hear what Eden had to say next. Who were she and Carly to her? Were they Mama and...and another form of motherly address? Ruth had never thought she'd have kids. She and her previous husband, David, had tried, but it hadn't happened. And then with Carly, perhaps there had been a way once, in a time before all of this, but in the world they lived in now, they had to be content with themselves. Until they didn't. Until Eden came into their lives.
Carly looked quickly over to Ruth, watching her wife try desperately to maintain composure, and moved her hand from Eden's face down to her shoulder. She gave both shoulders a squeeze. "You forget," she repeated, a bit breathlessly. "What do you call us?" She thought she knew the answer. She was fairly certain she'd heard it only moments ago. "It's not stupid. I promise."
It felt easier to start with the one she'd already said. "I've always had a mother, but... You're mama." she said, looking at Carly, before looking at ruth. "And you're kind of... mom." Her heart was racing, but Carly's hands were still on her, still grounding her. it was okay, it would be okay, as long as she didn't pull away. "Please don't be mad."
Carly stared at Eden a moment, and then looked at Ruth, and then back at Eden. You're mama. Those two words felt, somehow, like the most important in the world.
"Mad?" she whispered. "How could we be....oh, Eden, darling." Words failed her, then, and she wrapped her arms around Eden, pulling her close. But this was a shared moment, one for the whole family. "Get in here, Ruth," she croaked out through the joyful sob that threatened to escape.
Ruth didn't have to be told twice. You're kind of...mom. Ruth would savor those words forever. Mom. She was Mom. She stepped into the hug.
"You're our daughter," she said, conclusively. The thought that she and Carly had had for so long, quietly, just to themselves, now out in the open. Mama and Mom. And Eden. "You're ours in all the ways that matter, and in any way you like."
"You're my mothers?" she asked, the hug squishing around her, surprising her. When had her parents ever held her like this? When had she said please don't be mad and had her parents not be?
Today. Today. both of those things. Eden was their daughter now. And they were kind to her. meaningfully, truly, kind. The tears were on her face before she even realized she was crying, and suddenly she was hiccuping into ruth's shoulder, cheek pressed against carly's cheek. "I won't run away." she promised them. "not from my mothers."
Ruth nodded, not breaking her hold on her two favorite women in the world. "Your mothers," she agreed. She'd always wanted a daughter. How had she ever gotten so lucky?
She stroked Eden's hair as she cried, her other hand on Carly's back, nearly crying too at the promise that Eden wouldn't run away. For all that the world itself was over, here in this kitchen, they were starting anew. They were building something. A family. Love. Hope. "It's alright, love," she told her. "We're not going anywhere either."
Eden was hardly intelligible at this point, simply smiling. What a perfect day. Until tomorrow, she wouldnât believe it wasnât a dream. For now, even if it was, she cherished it. âI love you, mom.â That was something else sheâd said in her head, but now it was spoken. Now it was real. Now she wasnât just love, Ruth called everyone love. Now she was their daughter. She loved them.
I love you, Mom. Eden loved her. Eden was declaring herself their daughter, and declaring that she loved her. Ruth could hardly process the joy that flowed through her in that moment. It was so strong, so sure. She only hoped she deserved it.
Ruth pulled away, gently, the same time as Carly did. Perhaps Carly knew just as Ruth did that this was a response that she needed to say while looking at Eden. She needed to know Eden could see her, could hear her, could know how every real this was. "I love you too, Eden," she said. She meant every word tenfold.
"As do I," Carly said. She could hardly reconcile this strong, loving young woman with the scared girl who had slept in their chicken coop. Even if it wasn't so long ago in the grand scheme of things, it was a lifetime ago. They'd built such a new life since then. New routines, new foundations, and a new family. The three of them. It was an incredible, powerful thing, and Carly was certain they'd only scratched the surface of the depths of motherhood. "We love you."
Then, speaking for Ruth, because she knew her wife felt the same, she added, "And we promise we'll never leave you either. You will always have Ruth. And you will always have me."
It was a cold morning, early january. so cold that even without getting out of bed, Carly could feel it slipping through the window panes. The love of her life was at her side, in her arms, and honestly, it took a lot of conviction that morning to get out of them. She pulled on a thick jacket, shaking the sleep out of her arms and legs as she wandered downstairs.
She could be quick about it. she'd feed the chickens and be back in bed before the bleariness left her eyes, before Ruth even noticed she was gone. There had been countless mornings just like this one, particularly in the depths of winter. This was nothing new, nothing strange. Or so she thought, until she opened the chicken coop.
And it wasn't just chickens staring back at her.
there was a form, in the middle. a dusky grey cloak, hood- no, veil- obscuring the face of the form. Carly wasn't sure what to do about it, but her first instinct was to keep quiet. to check the eggs- none stolen, each chicken comfortably sitting on their usual amount. this person must've just been sheltering from the cold. it was warm in the coop. insulated by body heat and down and straw. And so cold outside that they would've froze. Carly couldn't fault them, but also couldn't leave them in with the chickens.
Without finishing the feeding, Carly went back to bed. "Love? Honey, wake up, something's... something's the matter."
Ruth groaned. It was the same small groan she groaned every morning that Carly had to get up earlier than her, and she liked to imagine Carly could hear her and smile as Ruth rolled over into the warmth of the space that Carly had abandoned. She'd be dragged out of bed most days by the steady hand of her wife, but today was Saturday, and she could sleep a little longer.
But a little longer wasn't to be as a hand on her shoulder startled her what felt like only seconds later. Ruth gave a curious "mmmwwwwhaaa?" as she turned to look at Carly, her words sinking in. Ruth was out of the bed and throwing on a robe as quickly as she could manage. "Did the chickens get out?" she asked. But that didn't make sense. They had just shored up the wire windows of the coop last month.
Carly shook her head. "Rather, something got into the chickens," she told Ruth. She ushered Ruth downstairs quietly as to not spook their guest and, in turn, the chickens. Out the back door, then back over to the side of the yard, and the veiled figure - a woman? a young one, if that - was still, it appeared, asleep. She looked to her wife.
Ruth wasn't sure how to react. She stared at the chicken coop. That was a person. In the chicken coop. A person! Which, good on them for finding a warm spot to sleep out on the edge of town as they were. But a person! In their chicken coop!
"When you said something got in," Ruth hissed, "I thought you meant a fox, not a -" she gestured at the figure, trying to make out the shape in the dawn light "-female!"
Carly eyed her. "Are you pleased with that alliteration?" she asked.
Ruth smirked. "I am, actually, yes."
The two of them were so caught up in their friendly bickering, smirking at each other, that when eden's neck shifted quiet as a church mouse towards them, they didn't seem to notice. The sixteen year old hadn't been expecting to find two women standing over her, and when she recognized one... "Miss Fisher?" she asked, confused. "These are your chickens?"
Ruth couldn't be sure when she and Carly had awoken the sleeping girl, but the two of them turned immediately to look at her as she spoke. Ruth hadn't thought about getting a weapon in case the figure was dangerous, but the thought crossed her mind, briefly, until Ruth found that she did, in fact, recognize the girl.
Eden had been her student a few years back. She'd been a good student - quiet, had tried to make herself small, but also had passion and ideas - with good grades, but a haunted look about her. Ruth had known something was wrong in her home. The signs were there. But getting mixed up in the politics of the followers of the Veiled One wasn't something Ruth had ever been able to afford to do.
"Yes," she said, after a moment. "Mine and Carly's chickens. You're not a chicken, though, so I do have to ask - what are you doing here?"
Eden shifted a bit, and her veil fell to the side. She made a move to fix it, but her hand stilled a moment. Instead, she sat up, veil pooling around her, but not on her face. Sheâd used it for warmth, but she didnât need co to wear it for the goddess. Sheâd abandoned her.
âIâm sorry.â She responded. âIâll get on my way. I was trying to get out of town, but it was so cold⊠I thought I could get out of the wind in here. I didnât mean to fall asleep.â
Carly looked at the girl, young. She wasnât soft spoken, but she forced her voice into something apologetic. âThere were winds last night.â She filled in the gap. âIt was smart of you to find walls to hide behind. Cuts through the chill.â
Eden nodded, still nervous. âWell, I was taught by the best.â She joked, looking over at Ruth, nervously, after it came out of her mouth.
Ruth chuckled. Survival skills were a part of the curriculum, had always been a part of the curriculum, but hide in a chicken coop had not. Eden was clever. She'd come up with that all on her own. Ruth looked at her wife. They couldn't let this child just go off on her own.
Carly nodded, reading Ruth's look. "Before you leave town," she suggested, "how about we get you warmed up a bit? Make the journey easier for you."
Ruth smiled and extended a hand to Eden, to help her out of the coop. "I was just about to put on a pot for tea," she said, though in truth she would have waited another sleepy hour if Eden hadn't shown up as she had. "Come, let's let my wife finish the feeding and get you some breakfast."
Eden looked between them, unsure. She really should be going, but the cold of the air wasnât forgotten. And Ruth Fisher was offering tea. âI havenât eaten since yesterdayâŠâ she realized, audibly caving as she was hauled to her feet. âThatâd be great.â The veil stayed on the floor, but Eden didnât reach for it. Instead, she followed Ruth inside, the two of them running to escape the biting cold outside.
The back door led directly into the kitchen, and Ruth held it open for Eden before heading inside herself. She popped into the living room to grab a blanket, which she handed to Eden while gesturing to a seat at the table. Ruth then swapped her robe for an apron, and began to fill the kettle.
"Carly'll tell you I'm miserable in the kitchen," Ruth said over her shoulder as she moved to heat the kettle on the stove. "But I can do eggs. I can do an entire omelet, so long as it's simple. We've mainly just got the basics here. Any preference?" She wanted to sound casual, to make Eden comfortable, even though it was far from a casual occurance to find a former student in her chicken coop.
Eden took the blanket, but only once she was sure her former instructor was plenty warm in her own situation. It felt strange, sitting and letting someone else fuss over her. âI can make eggs.â She offered. âI wonât burn them, or waste them. I wonât make mistakes.â She wasnât an ace at cooking, but at least it was something she could be trusted not to ruin.
Ruth was surprised by that, their little trespasser, offering to make food. And moreso, the promise not to make mistakes. What had this girl gone through that had brought her to this moment? But she couldn't ask, not yet. Everyone needed to calm down and warm up a bit.
"Nonsense," she told Eden. "Just make yourself comfortable." Ruth elected to skip the omelet in favor of fried eggs. She grabbed the butter and eggs and set to work until Carly got back. "How old are you, now?" she asked, to make conversation.
"sixteen." Eden offered, looking a bit uncomfortable, but deciding to sit. She was plenty old enough to cook for herself. It was a bit strange to have someone else seem so eager to do it. but often, she was told not to question authority. So maybe it was best to just let Miss Fisher do what she wanted. "How old are you?" she asked, trying to make conversation.
Sixteen. That made sense - she hadn't been Ruth's student so long ago. Then Ruth chuckled. "I'm thirty-five," she said as the pan heated. "Bit older than you. My back certainly wouldn't take a night in a chicken coop." She tried to joke, hoping to make Eden more comfortable. She looked a little bit out of sorts, and between that and leaving town...what had happened to this girl? But Ruth couldn't ask. Not yet.
Carly finished the feeding, picked up the veil that Eden had used as a blanket, and walked over to open the door, pleased to see Ruth already starting on breakfast. She entered the home quietly, and lightly touched Eden's shoulder and smiled in greeting before moving to pull out the chair next to her.
"You dropped this," Carly said, held the veil out to Eden. The followers of the Veiled One were an unusual bunch, and Carly was never sure what to make of them, but she knew what Ruth thought of the ones she taught.
"There are three in my class this year, and they're just the same as last year. Manners within an inch of their life, but if you correct them, even if it's just on an equation or spelling, they get nervous. Something is wrong in those homes, I just know it."
Eden looked at the veil, at Carly, at Ruth. âOh. Sorry.â She took it, but it felt awkward. She folded it, neatly, and sat it beside herself on the floor, not putting it on. âIâm not meant to wear it anymore.â She explained. âI left. So I canât.â Otherwise, theyâd keep asking. If not with their mouths, with their eyes. âYou can keep it, once I go. If youâd like. Itâs comfortable.â
Carly looked at the veil, all neat on the floor. Usually, she was the more outspoken of the two women, but Gage was the one who was better with kids. She always had been. And as much as Eden looked like she didnât think so, she was clearly a kid in crisis.
That, combined with the fact that she was a better bet in the kitchen, had Carly moving away from Eden, snaking her arms around Gageâs waist until she stole the spatula from her palm. âIâve got it, love.â She murmured, stepping in. Unspoken was the request. you handle that.
Egg in hand and spatula gone, Ruth looked at Carly, and caught the expression on her face. Carly wasn't certain how to help with Eden, with a student, a child, and a scared one at that. So Ruth nodded and passed the egg to her wife's outstretched palm, gave her wrist a quick squeeze, and moved over to the table, where she took a seat on the adjacent side of the table from their teenage guest.
"You left," Ruth repeated, unsure how to start the conversation without spooking Eden. "Was it...did you choose to leave?" She picked up the veil, and inspected the neat stitches of its hem, giving Eden time to answer.
âyes.â Eden responded, after a moment. âMy parents donât know yet.â Or, it was morning. Maybe they did. Maybe the veiled one had told them. They wouldnât chase her, theyâd be relieved. Finally free of her. âI needed to go.â
Parents didn't know. A runaway, then. "Will someone be after you, then?" Ruth asked. She meant to see if she was going to be needed to help facilitate some kind of reconciliation between Eden and her parents, but then..."Eden, are you in danger, or some other kind of trouble?"
Eden looked confused, shaking her head. âI donât think so.â Sheâd be surprised if anyone found eden missing and found that a worthy cause for search. âIâm not in trouble. Well, no more than usual.â It wasnât that Eden was in trouble. More that she was trouble. Water was wet, the sky was blue, and Eden was a mistake. What else was new?
"Are you usually trouble?" Ruth asked, but she smiled. She'd taught Eden; she didn't remember the girl being trouble at all. Passionate sometimes, but that was hardly a bad thing. "Where are you headed, if you don't mind my asking?"
Carly finished up the eggs, and plopped spatulafuls of the scrambled breakfast onto three plates. She placed one each in front of Ruth and Eden, then one in front of an empty chair across from the two of them. She then grabbed a pot holder and pulled the kettle off the stove, it having not quite reached a boil, and poured it into a pot with dried tea leaves. She set the pot down on the table as the tea steeped, and took a seat, smiling reassuringly at the teenager at their table.
Eden's fidgeted, casting her eyes down. something slid in front of her- a plate of eggs. They smelled good. Fresh. She smiled, although it seemed a bit more polite than genuine. She took a bite, both because she was hungry and because she didn't really know how to answer. Another bite. a third. She was reaching for a fourth when the gazes on her shoulders overpowered the allure of food.
"Away." She responded simply. "Far, I hope." Another bite or two, before she spoke again. "I'm full of trouble. The veiled one doesn't like it. Neither do I."
Ruth watched as Eden took her time with answering. It was the I hope that caught her, gave her pause. The girl in front of her had no idea where she was going, Ruth realized. Her next words were more impulse than thought. Perhaps it was a teacher's desire to help a student, no matter the cost. Perhaps it was seeing something of herself in the way Eden said neither do I.
But Eden didn't know where she was going, and Ruth didn't know that there was much of a choice in her decision at all. "Well, you can't go out into the great unknown in just the clothes on your back," she said. "Carly, can you grab a bag from the hall? We'll see what we can spare. And while she does that," she added, turning back to Eden, "why don't you tell me what you mean that you're full of trouble?"
Carly looked at her wife. She knew where she was going with this. She'd known the second that Eden said she was trying to get away that Ruth would do everything in her power to stop her. It was too dangerous beyond the borders of Ridge Harbor, Carly knew that more than most. The world was too vast and too hard to go it alone. But she let Ruth lead on this, and nodded, kissing her cheek as she got up to fetch a spare suitcase. She'd take her time, and let Ruth convince Eden to stay.
Eden looked up, not shocked, but not... sure. She knew Miss Fisher would offer something like that, but really, it wasn't needed. "I won't take much." she assured. "Maybe a jacket." it was all she needed, and she didn't need to take more than that. "if you've any to spare." As for her troubles, she didn't want to talk about those. so instead, she shoveled more food into her mouth, carefully.
Ruth nodded. "We're luckier than most. We have items to spare. We'll get you a spare set of clothes, and some soap to last at least a few washes." She paused, as if considering. "You'll need a water bottle. And some manner of weapon. Do you know how to hunt?" Most folks around town who bartered with meat raised their animals for slaughter, but there were a few who hunted, and admittedly, Ruth didn't know much about what went on inside the commune.
soap. Eden didnât say the word, but Ruth was right. Sheâd need soap. And she hadnât even considered it. âI know my plants.â She offered. âDo you?â
Plants. "Admittedly, I don't know much about plants," Ruth said. "I haven't had much cause for foraging, not with the selection at the shops." A woman named Veronica had the best selection of home grown herbs, and Carly often joked she'd leave Ruth for her. There really was a great selection of food, and that gave Ruth an idea of how to move the conversation forward. "It's growing cold, though. Plants will be a bit more scarce this time of year," she said, casually, after another bite of eggs. "Would you want to go into town with us tomorrow and stock up on food before you leave?"
cold. Yes, it was. the trees were bare and the ground hard. Ruth was right, how would she be able to find plants to eat? and even if she knew where to hunt, the animals would be hiding from the veiled one's wrath in their burrows. "I..." and then the offer came. Earnest, gentle. kind. She meant it, too. Eden could tell. "oh, you don't have to." A spare jacket, she could take. going to market to buy food for her? no. too much. "I can't take more than my share."
Ruth understood Eden's hesitation. Manners, yes, but likely an element of worry - she and Carly were strangers, after all, or mostly strangers, anyway. But the outside world was a dangerous place, and Ruth didn't want to see anyone lost to it. No, she had to protect her student. She had to convince her to stay, at least long enough to figure out how to provide for herself.
"It wouldn't be more than your share," Ruth said. "It'd just be what you need, so long as you can carry it." And maybe some extra. If they couldn't get Eden to stay, they could at least give her as much as they could to see her off. And a scheme voice told Ruth that perhaps it would be too much to carry, and maybe that would make Eden stay.
"I'll pay you back." Eden caved, visibly. her shoulders melted, the tension falling. She needed help, they wanted to give it. a jacket, food. "Thank you. both."
"Of course." Carly's voice was soft, coming from across the table. "You're welcome here. do you know that?" she asked, gently.
Eden's eyes looked up, meeting carly's steady gaze. she nodded, although the uncertainty shown in her gaze. "Yes ma'am."
As Carly placed the bag for Eden between her and Ruth, she looked at her wife, who nodded. They were on the same page. Eden would stay with them as long as she'd like. She dug into her own, slightly cold eggs, then, with what she hoped was an encouraging smile on her face. "Good," she said. "We'll make up the guest room after breakfast."
"oh." Eden sat, processing the words. After breakfast, then a guest room, then a jacket, then the market... there were plans. so many plans. The smile was soft on her face as she looked down at her food, shoveling more into her mouth. She liked the plans. Maybe she'd stick around for them.
Ruth doesnât remember much of her life before Ridge Harbor. She was so little, in those early years. Days werenât kept track of, merely lived, foraging with her parents, who tried their best. The three of them happened upon Ridge Harbor entirely by accident, when Ruth was perhaps five or six. It was a strange, secretive place, where Ruthâs family was tolerated but outside of the group. There were twelve leaders, some with kids, but all hailing a goddess Ruth wasnât able to understand. Her parents tried desperately to get in. They thought that if they could be accepted in this town, they could keep their family safe.
The kids in town all knew each other. There werenât many of them, but they sat in a schoolroom together and did their lessons each day. That was how Ruth met another little girl named Carly. Her parents werenât part of the Twelve, but they were members of the church, along with most of Ridge Harbor. In spite of that, Ruth and Carly became fast friends, the very best, and spent most of their days playing together on swing sets and in parks. They pushed each other into the freezing sea, and investigated tide pools. They were forever exploring, the two of them, on their own little adventure. It would be years later that Ruth would learn just how exceptional such a friendship was.
Her parents were shut out of the community. Ruth had Carly, but they had no one. They tried desperately, but they were denied the support such a small town might have promised had it been a few decades earlier, before it all ended. It made them cold. It made them bitter. Gone were the loving parents she had known. They still encouraged her, still tried to raise her right, but there was a light extinguished from them through their isolation. Ruth began to spend less time at home. It was too hard. Carly understood, and she and Ruth spent most of their time together. They had other friends, and it was through Carly that Ruth was able to be a part of the community. Carly showed everyone that they could be friends with an outsider, even if she wasnât a part of their faith.
When Ruth and Carly were thirteen, they sat on a rock together, watching the sunset on an empty beach. And Carly leaned over, and kissed her. A gasp came from behind them and they both jumped up, but when they turned, they couldnât see anyone. They convinced themselves it was the crash of the waves, and sat back down, enamored with each other. It was a moment Ruth would remember forever. A singular moment, when everything felt perfect.
The next day, Carly wouldnât look at her. She wouldnât speak to her. She kept in a tight circle of the other Veiled children. Her parents wouldnât let Ruth visit, and told her to go away. When Ruth finally managed to corner Carly weeks later, Carly said simply that their friendship was inappropriate. Sheâd let things go too far. Lines had gotten blurry. But she was Veiled, and Ruth was not, and that made all the difference.
But unlike her parents, Ruth didnât find herself cut off from the rest of the world. There were other families who had moved to town over the years who were outsiders like the Fishers. Their children accepted Ruth as one of them. Ruth made an effort, and reached out to them, and tried, something her parents in all their anger never could do. And it was through this new group of friends that Ruth met her next two great loves: David, and teaching.
The outsiders werenât given much preference in the classroom. Less was expected of them, and it showed with their limited understanding of their schoolwork. Ruth, however, hadnât quite been an outsider. Sheâd straddled both worlds for long enough that sheâd gotten enough attention from teachers. So she began to tutor all of the kids in the class who had been left to slip through the cracks. She adored it. And David was her best student.
They were wed young, when Ruth was nineteen and David was twenty. They got a little house in the center of town - within walking distance of the school where Ruth would teach and just big enough to raise children. They both dreamed of a perfect future together, making their home in this imperfect community, in spite of everything.
But, try as they might, children never came. David blamed Ruth, and everything began to fall apart. He blamed her working, and the stress she was putting herself under to be accepted as a teacher despite her lack of faith in the Veiled One. She should be staying home. But even when she quit, even when she did as he wished, she couldnât get pregnant. Perhaps her body was just broken, was Davidâs next argument. Heâd married a broken woman who would never be good enough.
But David wasnât good enough for the town, and, though most outsiders didnât have trouble finding jobs, David did. And he became as cold and bitter as Ruthâs parents. Perhaps he did love her, in the end. But he never showed it. He never allowed himself to be as free as he had been in those early years, when there were possibilities and hope. With Ruth not working either, there were fewer and fewer options for them. He had to leave Ridge Harbor, David decided, and he had to take Ruth with him. And Ruth, who had learned to stop fighting against her husbandâs wishes years ago, went willingly.
They didnât make it very far.
The first week or so was terrifying, but they quickly got used to the lack of safety. David learned to hunt, and Ruth would forage, and they made do. There were other towns, of course, but theyâd been abandoned and looted long ago, and it was easier to pretend they werenât so alone when they were in the woods, and not surrounded by empty houses and silent streets. David led the two of them. He always had, but in this he felt himself the expert - he had lived longer outside of Ridge Harbor than Ruth had. Heâd spent years as a child doing this. He knew what he was doing.
But it only took one mistake for everything to end. When Ruth found Davidâs body, mauled by some kind of animal, she cried. It must have been a large one, she thought. A goliath of a thing, to stop him. But heâd sworn he knew what he was doing. Heâd sworn himself the expert, invincible in that sort of way that boys in their twenties thought they were, even if heâd never had the power of a veiled goddess on his side. He wasnât invincible. Ruth buried him alone and carved his name into a tree as a marker. She kept track of every step she took, so she could remember how she could get back to him. And she picked herself up, and returned to Ridge Harbor.
It was a small town. What had happened wasnât a secret for long. And comfort was offered to Ruth, even from the Veiled. And Ruth adjusted. She went back to teaching. She rekindled her friendships. She found hobbies to occupy the space no longer occupied by a husband or the hope of children who would never come. It was a quiet life, but she was content.
Ruth was nearly thirty when that quiet life took another turn. It wasnât as though she hadnât seen Carly over the years. They ran into each other as often as one ran into any other person in Ridge Harbor. Theyâd never talked, though, not really. But then Carly was seated across from her in the diner, talking about regrets as they both approached what in the time before the world ended would have been considered a milestone of a birthday. And Carly didnât want any regrets, especially not with the woman sheâd never stopped loving her entire life. It was a shock to Ruth, especially on such an ordinary day, with no events preceding such a revelation. But it was a welcome shock that restarted her heart. Ruth wasnât even sure when it had stopped beating in the first place.
Over the years the Veiled grew to have the true believers and the more casual followers, the ones who only sometimes went to worship, and didnât take it all quite so seriously. Thatâs where Carlyâs family had ended up, slowly drifting from the Veiled until they were out of the church entirely, to little fanfare and minimal repercussions. It was a different world than when Ruth and Carly had been teenagers. They were free to be whoever they wanted to be, and they were free to be together.
So, in the end, they chose to be together.
They got themselves a place on the edge of town. They got married. They raised chickens. They were settled in each other, and they were happy. There wasnât a void in the way there had been with David, one that they both wanted to fill with a child. So perhaps thatâs why it was with Carly that Ruth finally became a mother.
They found Eden, a former student of Ruthâs, in the chicken coop one morning in the middle of the winter, hiding from the cold. Sheâd run away from her devout parents. She was planning on running from Ridge Harbor entirely, but Ruth and Carly convinced her to stay. It was the greatest decision either of them ever made. It was a slow process, gaining a teenagerâs trust, but they did it. They followed her pace, and the three of them made a home together. The day Eden first called them Mama and Mom was one of the happiest of Ruthâs life.
She should have known the other shoe would drop.
Perhaps she should have been grateful for the years of happiness she got with Carly and Eden. But when Carly disappeared, all she felt was a biting cold. Grief weighed heavier and heavier on their house as the time since theyâd seen Carly got longer and longer. Hope was hard to hold onto, so instead, Ruth and Eden held onto each other.
Ruth always assumed Carly had been Edenâs favorite - she was the outgoing one, with the effortless friendliness and the ability to make anyone laugh, and that wasnât even getting into her and Edenâs shared, or at least similar, history with the Veiled. Ruth didnât feel good enough as a parent without Carly, even if Eden had long been fully grown. She didnât know what to do. She didnât know how to find her wife, or how to be a mother on her own. She knew her love, and she knew her grief. And she tried to get through, to hope.
And then a body showed up. It wasnât Carly, but it was clearly the handiwork of the Veiled. And all that hope turned into a hypothesis. And if she was right, she was going to stop at nothing to get her wife back.
