My arms felt like they were going to fall off. Were these buckets this heavy yesterday?
“Come on, Rinda,” she called. I watched my sister’s long, blond hair bounce against her back as she walked ahead of me.
“I’m coming. It’s just that my stubby little legs can’t keep up,” I joked.
Tia sometimes forgets that she’s taller.
“It’s three inches, not a mile,” she teased back.
She turned around, resting one of the water buckets against her hip and tapping her foot against the packed dirt as she waited for me to catch up.
I finally caught up to her and let out a heavy breath, which steamed in the September air. The days were still warm, but the sun had barely risen and the morning was chilly. I looked up to see an amused look on her face.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” she told me.
She turned and walked onward before I could ask what she meant, but I heard footsteps a split second later. It could only be one person.
“Good morning, Jorie.” I spoke without even turning around and I knew the words didn’t come out as kindly as they should.
“Good morning, Jorinda.” I could feel him smiling at me. “Good morning, Tiana.”
We walked along in a few moments of companionable silence and he kept up easily, despite Tia’s apparent rush.
“Can I help you with those buckets?” he asked, automatically reaching for one. “I mean, they look heavy and you’ve still got a while to walk.”
My bangs had fallen into my eyes and I tossed my head, flipping them back out again before I spoke.
“No, thank you,” I told him. “I have been hauling buckets from the well to the house since I was old enough to walk and I’ve never needed your help before.”
“I know you can do it on your own,” he said quietly. “I just thought that maybe you’d like a little company.”
“No,” I said. “I’m fine on my own.”
Some water sloshed out of the buckets as I said this, but he was nice enough to ignore it.
“Maybe I could see you later, then?” he asked.
I stopped to look at him for a moment. He ran his fingers through his long unruly brown hair and looked at me hopefully. I couldn’t look at those dark, hopeful eyes and tell him no.
“Yes,” I finally told him. “Later, maybe.”
The three word response seemed to be enough for him, because he slowed his pace and dropped back to the village center. Our house was the last in the village, so we walked in silence for a good fifteen minutes before we got home. I’ve always hated the trek between the well in the village square and our house, sitting on the outskirts, but it felt even longer today, as I followed Tia’s slate-grey skirts down the dirt path. I watched the skirts swish and wondered how long her silence would last.
She waited until we were out of the village proper. We were crossing the field that led to our little farmhouse when she finally piped up.
“You don’t have to be so mean to him,” she said. I could hear from the sound of her voice that her lips were pursed in a thin little line, the way they always are when she gets mad at me.
“I wasn’t mean to him,” I told her quietly. “Not really.”
I ran ahead, hoping to avoid the argument, cutting through the soft grass ahead of my sister and reaching the kitchen door first. I let the door stand open and set down my buckets of water. I could hear her footsteps outside coming closer and took a deep breath.
She stayed silent as she stomped into the kitchen. I was stunned for a moment, but then I just followed her as she began to work. I pulled apples from the larder as she sliced cheese and bread. I poured the well-water into a pitcher and set cups on the table as she set out the plates.
We were done by the time Father came downstairs for breakfast. No matter what else was wrong between us, seeing Father always made us smile.
His hair had turned gray early in life, but that was the only thing that betrayed his age. His steel-blue eyes were as focused and sharp as they ever had been and his arms and legs were well-muscled from working on the farm all his life. He smiled back at us as he plopped down into his chair.
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