Wood Collector's Family

Kai had no idea that he and his dungeon were already having an effect on the wider world…

Anna

Anna sat at the simple kitchen table, the wood worn by age and countless meals, decorated with scratches and chips left by hard use and children, and the finish had long gone after being scrubbed clean multiple times a day until it looked more like cracked and gray driftwood than proper furniture. In that way, it perfectly matched a floor that was so old that it had smoothed in places from all the foot traffic and shelving that had been propped up and repaired multiple times. There was a crack in the tiny kitchen window, a victim of her husband’s frequent bouts of anger, in which he sometimes threw things without a care for whether they landed, even if it meant on her, but never any money to replace something so expensive.

From the chipped red cup under her nose wafted steam, a peaceful scent of tea with just a touch of honey and a drop of milk, for it was all they could afford. The tea itself was worth its weight in gold, and if her husband knew she was indulging this way, he’d probably slap her for the luxurious expense and tell her that if she had money for tea, then she should quit whining about money to him. But the tea was soothing and brought back memories of her childhood, of good years long ago, along with the teacup itself, one of the few treasures that had managed to survive into her adult years, along with a threadbare scarf and her only book, The Heart Grows Fonder, a slim volume with a dozen different romantic adventures filled with all kinds of women and a variety of dashing heroes that they all inevitably fall in love with.

Those tales had given rise to exciting dreams as she’d grown from child to young woman. Perhaps those hopes had blinded her to the true nature of the man she’d eventually agreed to marry. Because reality had metaphorically taken the book, burned it in front of her, and then cruelly laughed in her face. While he’d seemed appealing enough in the beginning, he was everything but now. Marriage had given rise to complacency, and whatever little romantic effort he’d put into wooing her had swiftly died away when no longer necessary.

Complacency had led to control, for the less he seemed to have in his affairs outside the home, the more he sought domination over what he could, namely his wife and then his two children after they were born. For the sake of a peaceful house, she had given in, and his control had added resentment. When his own dreams of wealth and renown had failed to materialize, as much from his lack of effort as from the way he frittered more and more away in gambling halls and games all about town, he had begun taking his frustrations and self-loathing out on her, resentment becoming outright abuse.

But she’d had to stay for the sake of the kids. What other choice did she have? Her parents were too old and poor to support her. What man would want a plain-faced woman whose body, never anything to write poetry about, had been broken by the hard births of two boys and had aged faster than it might have due to years of unhappiness?

A teardrop fell from her cheek and landed in the tea. She hastily, almost angrily, brushed her eyes, willing the tears away, for what good would self-pity do?

A knock at the door.

Anna looked up, took a long second to realize what the noise was, and then pulled herself together as she stood. She didn’t want to answer the door looking a mess. With a deep breath, she moved to the living room and answered the door.

It swung open to reveal Paulo, a neighbour from three doors down. Anna started in surprise.

The big lug gave her a kind smile. “Anna.” Then he saw something of her mood, for the good man could be too observant at times, and his eyes pinched with concern as he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She waved him off with half a laugh, her heart lighter just seeing him. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just stressed.”

They’d known each other since they’d been kids and always been friends, though her a lot less of one since she’d been married. It had not been Paulo’s choice. Anna’s husband had never liked her having any male acquaintances, let alone the kind of close friendship she’d had with Paulo, and her husband had made his feelings very plain. Anna had acquiesced because that was the kind of thing you did for a spouse to prove your loyalty. At least, she’d thought so at the time.

Paulo’s wife, who’d come along a couple of years after Anna’s marriage, had died giving birth to her third child that past summer, a baby girl. She’d never liked how intimate Anna and Paulo had been whenever they’d been in the same room, but she’d trusted her husband and chosen to trust Anna, and they’d had peace.

It had broken Anna’s heart that she hadn’t been able to comfort Paulo as much as she would have liked during his loss, the babe saved by the mother perishing before healing, magical or otherwise, could be applied. She’d felt an absolute traitor, guilty as sin, for not going to him in his time of need as a friend should, but her husband had only glowered at her and told her it wasn’t her place no more. She’d never felt good enough to be his friend since. So it was that her moment of gladness at seeing him quickly soured into nervousness.

She asked with a tightness in her throat, “What brings you by?”

Paulo straightened a hair. He was half a head taller than her, his shoulders twice as wide from all the carpentry work he did. If she’d married him, her kitchen would no doubt look in far better shape.

Anna nearly jumped at the thought, distantly scandalized, and wondered what had brought that idea to her mind. It might have scandalized her more, but it hadn’t been the first time she’d wondered what her life would be like if she’d married Paulo instead of the stranger who’d come along to woo her, a man whose appeal, she realized in hindsight had been more due to his newness than any decent quality. It was hard to see the truth of such things, though, when you’re caught up in the moment. She felt worse for betraying the memory of the woman he’d loved and who had given Paulo family.

Paulo said, “I bring news. I heard from Lara.” Lara was his sister, three years his junior.

Anna’s brows rose. “Oh?” She’d been Lara’s friend as well since they’d been kids.

A year ago, Lara’s husband had run afoul of a corrupt lawman and been ‘strongly encouraged’ to become part of the sixth expedition to establish a new village a couple of days’ walk from the city, part of the King’s plan to settle the kingdom’s outskirts now that the war with the elves was behind them. Of course, not all the elves were dead, not to mention the ancient forests were thick with all manner of beasts and wild things. That was why the first five attempts at settling the place had been wiped out with very few survivors. But peasants were cheap and the crown wanted what the crown wanted. It would just keep throwing lives at the issue until it got what it wanted. It was cheaper to send a new batch of indebted peasants and criminals than to send even a token force of trained soldiers to keep them alive.

Anna had been terrified for her friend when she’d learned that Lara and her family had essentially been sentenced to death. She’d been waiting in dread for the worst news ever since. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped. “Lara! Is she…?” Part of her was scared, but part of her wondered why Paulo wasn’t in tears. Perhaps it wasn’t the ugly news Anna instinctively feared?

Paulo nodded. “She’s fine. Or fine as can be in the situation.” He’d have been out there alongside of his sister if he hadn’t had his own children to protect and raise.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Anna’s body released sudden tension.

“She sent word of your husband.”

Anna’s breath caught. “Yes?” Her husband had been struggling for years to bring in any sort of regular income. He’d tried and lost jobs and borrowed from the wrong people, earning himself a poor reputation. Driven to desperation, he’d taken a low-level quest from the adventurers guild, not the nice one, but the other one, a quest for collecting wood. Not having a wood-cutting license, he’d been forced to go to the kingdom’s outskirts where he couldn’t even cut down trees, only collect already-fallen wood. Not that he even owned either axe or saw. He’d borrowed a cart and donkey from a farmer on the edge of town on the promise of paying a third of the haul for the privilege. Then he’d gone out to the same village site that Lara and her family had been trying to develop, thinking it would be safer than some other random section of forest.

Paulo glanced down as if uncertain, then back up into her eyes. “He’s not been seen in a couple of days. Donkey and cart came back out of the woods without him one night. No blood, and the animal wasn’t spooked, but there was no sign of him. They searched and found nothing. Not a trace.”

Anna went numb. She needed a moment to get a reply out before saying, “It’s only been a couple of days. He might have passed out from the drink.” Her husband had a serious drinking problem.

Paulo gave a quick shake of his head. “No booze out there. Lara says the place is dry. The warden who visits won’t allow it.”

“Perhaps he’s been hurt?”

“Maybe. But,” he paused with awkwardness and then spoke with an apologetic tone, “you know how dangerous that forest is. Lara says they searched for him, and I believe they would have done what they could, but they can’t spend days out there, wandering around, or no one would be coming home.”

Anna was at a loss. “So…what does that mean?”

Paulo took a breath. “I’m sorry, Anna. But there’s a good chance he ain’t ever comin’ home.”

“I…I see.” An odd feeling took her, and she felt strangely light. She sagged against the doorframe.

Paulo saw the change in her and stepped forward, catching her before she could fall. “You all right?”

“I don’t know.” What did this mean for her? For her children? With an air of detachment, she looked over her shoulder into the house. “I haven’t a thing to feed the kids. I was… He was supposed to… I was waiting…” She trailed off.

Paulo continued to hold her, tenderness in his gaze. “I told you before if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask.”

“I couldn’t. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Anna. Never were. Never could be.”

That wasn’t how her husband treated her. He’d treated her and kids like an anchor around his life, the source of all his bad luck. Still, he’d brought in enough coppers and shared it with them that, along with the meagre funds she earned from sewing and cleaning, it had kept them alive. Mostly.

Paulo’s hands gently squeezed her upper arms, and he leaned down, making her look up in blink at him. “Anna, I want you and the children to come to my place.”

“For dinner?”

“For as long as you like. Forever, if you want.”

The offer stunned her. Anne snapped out of the fog she’d been in and the growing existential fear. “What?”

“My home is your home. For as long as you like or need.”

“That’s… That’s too generous.” And yet, her need was great. No, this was more than she could ever ask for. “He’ll be furious when he finds out—”

“He ain’t comin’ home, Anna. I mean, it ain’t likely.”

“And if he does?”

He became bravely defiant, stating, “Then… Then he can damn well shove off. You deserve better. Your kids do.” The way he looked at her said that, while he was still holding himself back, he was behaving as more than just an old friend. It was reminiscent of the way he’d looked at her too many years ago, back when she’d taken those looks for granted and found the attention of someone unknown more exciting. Young women can be so foolish.

An image flashed through her mind of something that had never happened, of the two of them standing in his house, his bedroom, in a similar position but with a little less clothing and very pleasurable intent. Her cheeks heated up with embarrassment. She felt ugly and small in his hands, undeserving. She was too pathetic to deserve being saved by him like this. She weakly tried to pull away. “I couldn’t. It’s too much.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to force her, didn’t pull her to him or hold her arms too tight for her to move. He wasn’t the controlling type. When she tried to run, he let her slip away. But he didn’t give up. He reached for her hand, which she allowed him to take despite herself. “Anna. If you’d rather stay here, so be it. But at least let me bring by some supplies. A bag of charcoal for the stove. Some food.” He reached for the purse on his belt. “At least let me give you some coin to shop with.”

She started crying, which was even more embarrassing, so she tried to cover her face with her free hand. “Oh, Paulo. You can’t. It’s too kind. Not after the way I...”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m not proposing marriage. Though I can’t say I won’t someday. You’re still the most beautiful girl in town. I’m just saying you’re not alone. You don’t have to suffer, and you sure don’t have to starve. Let me help. Please?”

Weeping too much to see anything through her fingers, though they were not sad tears, she nodded and tried to speak but only laughed with embarrassment. But she did manage to squeeze his hand back and nod with the overwhelming gratitude she felt. As a wife and mother, she should probably feel much worse at hearing news of her husband possibly dying and should feel guilty for impulsively looking forward to a life without him. Instead, she could only glow with warmth at the prospect of someone loving her again and not hating her for loving them. She found herself thankful to whatever creature had suddenly gifted her the prospect of a better, happier life.