This short story takes place during Two Different Things Can Just Be Different. You can read the first chapter of the novel here!
“And he even said that I could come by for mending work any time–he always has it,” said Lily proudly.
“That’s great,” said Asp. “I hope that works out well.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” asked Lily, suddenly grave.
Asp tried not to look surprised. “I didn’t mean it wouldn’t,” she said. “I was just wishing you well.”
Lily frowned for a moment, then put on a neutral expression. “Well, thank you.”
Wow, thought Asp. Ordinarily she would have kept going. She’s actually getting better. But there’s still something in the way. What is it?
“He must have been very impressed with your stitching,” said Asp. “To get offered work based on one job–that’s great.”
Lily smiled almost rapturously. “I’ve been at it a while,” she said. “It would be a shame if I hadn’t learned something.”
I know this game. She belittles herself, I build her up. Let’s hope it’s a quicker round than normal.
“Oh, anyone can do something for a long time,” said Asp. “It would be a shame, but a common shame. You can be proud. You should be proud.”
Lily closed her eyes and smiled widely. She breathed in deeply, then out slowly. She opened her eyes. “I am proud. I’m good at what I do.” She looked around the living room, smiling to herself. Then, suddenly, her eyes went dark, and a scowl appeared on her face. “How’s work?” she asked.
Of course. You talk about yourself for an hour straight, and then the first question you ask is an interrogation. It’s the same thing as the last ten times I’ve come by. She isn’t getting better. She’s just hiding it better.
“It’s fine,” said Asp. “I’ve been doing some odd work around the city, and things at the vineyard are looking like they might turn the corner soon.”
“Odd work?” asked Lily, her voice flat.
“Yeah, I helped them line up construction on a few new fields, so our output could really grow soon,” said Asp as though she had heard a different question.
“Odd work?” repeated Lily, her voice pitched this time.
Asp sighed. “Just things here and there,” she said. “I’ve represented a few people in business deals.” That’s true. “I’ve made some savvy purchases I could sell for a profit.” That’s a big stretch of the truth. “And the occasional honest labor sometimes.” Total lie.
Lily looked sideways at her daughter, considering. After a moment, she snorted. “Honest labor?”
Asp committed; she donned a frustrated, almost indignant face and sighed rather than show weakness in her lie being recognized. “Not digging ditches or graves,” she said. “But I’ve picked fruit at some of the vineyards and orchards out by Thimblefull.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Heather, you listen to me. We both know that if you picked fruit from an orchard, you stole it.”
Asp deflated. I don’t care that she’s right. I care that this is how she talks to me. She sat holding her breath for several seconds before finally exhaling heavily. She stood up from her chair. “I think it’s time for me to go,” she said.
Lily scowled. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “I’m trying to talk to you.”
Asp’s defenses cracked. “I want to talk too, Mom, but you’re not talking. You’re judging me and expecting me to thank you for it. And I won’t, so I’ll see you later, when you hopefully don’t feel like doing this to me anymore.” She finished talking and immediately made for the door. Lily began to speak, but Asp turned and shouted “No!” over her before storming outside.
She wandered the city streets, her thoughts in turmoil, and thought about what she needed right now. I want to talk to someone who cares about me. She looked around. Dad. He’s around here somewhere.
She turned down a side path and cut through the city as it began to come fully alive.
—
Asp had searched three neighborhoods now and hadn’t found her father or his crew. She turned and entered a fourth neighborhood. I know it’s somewhere around here. I just can’t remember specifically where he said. Did he say even say exactly where? She frowned. No, I think he just side “east side of the market.” She scanned the street, seeing children playing and people walking up and down.
She imagined where each person might be off to. She spotted a short slightkin woman. Off to work, she imagined. She’s an apprentice to a smith. Look at those arms. She looked closely at the woman’s slight arms. She’s never lifted a hammer in her life, I’ll bet. Probably has a front desk job somewhere, maybe the financial district. Everyone over there is so scrawny. She looked down at her own small frame. Guess that’s why I fit in over there. She was passed by a young slightkin man with a patchy beard. Someone’s in a hurry. Late to somewhere. Probably also work. Everything’s about work. I bet he does something menial. She noted dirt stains on the lower half of his pants. Yep. Maybe a gardener. Good luck, gardener boy. Be swift like a stag. He hurried on and took a corner well ahead of her.
She turned at the end of a street and continued on. There’s not much “east side of the market” left to see. I’ve seen plenty of houses that could use some work, but nothing in progress. Where is he? She came to a juncture. She could continue down that street, which stretched down several blocks, or turn right and follow a path that curved off to the left after about a block. Asp peered down the road ahead. No construction crews as far as she could see. She shrugged and turned right.
A minute later, she was banking around to the left, her eyes on the bend. Small houses, mostly identical, lined the streets. There was an occasional tree or flowerbed. Softly, in the distance, she could hear a tapping sound. As she drew closer, it became a pounding sound. She reached an intersection and looked to the right. Between two modest houses, a team of builders were working on the foundation of a longhouse. She saw her father among them, leaning from the top of a ladder to hammer nails at the rafters. She came up to the edge of the property and stood. A red-bearded slightkin man in suspenders approached her, a rolled-up parchment in one hand.
“Morning, Mr. Cloud,” Asp said sweetly to the man. Best behavior around Dad’s boss, she told herself.
“Good morning, Heather,” said Mr. Cloud. “By to see your father?”
Asp nodded, producing a pair of seed buns from her pack. “When’s his next break?”
Mr. Cloud’s face contorted into a grin for a moment, but he changed it to an apologetic frown. “We’re behind today, and the buyer has offered to pay extra if we complete it by today. So no breaks.”
Asp furrowed her brow. “No breaks? But–” She broke off and pointed to the foundation. “You have two days’ work left to do on that thing. Cutting breaks won’t cut it. They still won’t finish.”
Mr. Cloud smiled at her wickedly. “Well, ain’t you adorable? I mean, you might be if you weren’t old enough to know better. Look, he’s gonna get paid extra, he’s just gotta work a little harder today. You can chit-chat with him later.”
Asp frowned. “Give him this when he has a minute to eat?” she said meekly. “Assuming he gets that much.”
Mr. Cloud grabbed the seed bun and put it down by the workers’ canteens and waterskins. “It’ll be here when there’s time.”
Asp nodded. She looked over at her father. He was focused intently on his task. It appeared that he had driven the nails to support both sides of all the rafters. Damn, she thought. He might actually build it all in a day. When he didn’t notice her, she stalked away, taking a shortcut back to the lower tier’s center.
So what do I do now? Mom’s broken, Dad’s too busy . . . where do I go when I need a supportive conversation? She trudged on almost blindly, lost in her thoughts. I guess this is one of the prices of a life like mine. Not a lot of connections that last. I could try–no, I think she’d be mad at me. Or what about–no, same story. She stopped walking and looked around. She saw a few market stalls selling spices and books, a cluster of people walking along the street, a bar with glasses flashing light from inside. Bar . . . She felt like her brain was onto something but couldn’t tell why. Bar . . . alcohol . . . ale . . . wine . . . Ooh–the vineyard. She smiled to herself and set off for the gate to the rolling hills out east.
—
The city was behind her by a handful of miles now, and Asp relaxed as it grew distant from her thoughts as well. All she felt like she knew now were the hills of the countryside, the wide sky, and the smells of nature that created a natural potpourri. She breathed deeply and tried to identify each component of the aroma. Oak and pine, she thought, and wildflowers. Especially lavender. And there’s something else. Something sharp, but bright. Is it . . . She breathed again and blinked. It’s like something rotting, but sweet? She glanced around the path and looked to the brook down a hillside. Something was in the stream, blocking it. She headed down the hill toward the water and stopped halfway down. From this distance, she could make it out. A baby deer was lying in the water, its side torn open. Asp turned away from the stream and vomited. She walked back up the hillside, careful not to turn back, and hurried on her way.
Asp rinsed her mouth out with water from her waterskin and spat. Oh, gods, she thought. It was hard to focus. She tried to breathe. What did that to it? Her face fell. And it was so young. Only a baby. She kept walking, pushing it away in her mind only to be overwhelmed by thoughts of it a moment later. The bare and forested hills gave way to farms and then to vineyards, and Asp managed to collect herself enough to wave and greet travelers and farmers as she went. Soon, she arrived at Thimblefull Vineyards, the sun heading down in the sky as late afternoon passed.
Asp went inside the main building to find Ginger sternly looking over some paperwork while Rick polished wine glasses. They saw her at the same time and joined her as she took a seat at the bar.
“Good afternoon,” said Rick. “How are you, Heather?”
“I’m good!” said Asp cheerfully. “And you too?”
“We’re good,” said Rick.
“Mostly good,” added Ginger.
“It’s fine,” said Rick.
“Maybe,” countered Ginger.
“What is it?” asked Asp.
“We’ve got a problem,” said Ginger. “We hired our pickers using the projections from last year. So last year, the bulk of the fruits we need ripened in about three weeks from now, maybe four. Problem is, it got warmer earlier this year, and now we’re got all this ripe fruit, and our pickers aren’t going to be here.”
“And we can’t get them here sooner?” asked Asp.
“They’ve got other work until when we agreed for the most part.” said Ginger. “We’re going to have to work the harvest ourselves, and we’ll still be short a picker.”
“Two pickers,” corrected Rick. “Unless you can find an exceptionally hard worker.”
Ginger sighed. “We’ve scoured the nearby towns and even asked for help from the other farmers around here, but a lot of them are in the same situation as us–ripe fruit and not enough hands.”
“When’s harvest?” asked Asp.
“Tomorrow,” said Ginger dourly.
Asp smiled. “How long does it take to teach someone to pick fruit like you want?”
Rick laughed. “Maybe three minutes,” he said. “It’s not a matter of skill so much as effort.”
Ginger leaned forward, her eyes hopeful. “You smile like that when you have a plan. Do you know somebody?”
Asp shook her head, still smiling. “I don’t have anything planned tomorrow. And I’d like to get a hands-on feel for what I’ve invested in.”
Ginger snorted, and Rick looked shocked. After a moment, he said, “You know we’d never ask you to do that.”
“I know,” said Asp. “But you’re telling me that this company needs someone to harvest some fruit, and I’m telling you that I can solve that problem, and you won’t even have to pay me.”
Ginger snorted again. “It’s nice of you to say all that, Heather, but you’re part-owner. You shouldn’t be doing the dirty work.”
Asp raised her eyebrows. “You’re the owners, and you’re doing it.”
“Because we have no choice,” said Rick.
Asp laughed. “So if we have no choice, you definitely need my help.” She looked over Rick and Ginger. They book still seemed uncertain. “Look,” Asp said, “I can tell you’re shocked. Are you thinking of the phrase ‘too good to be true’?”
Rick laughed, and Ginger said, “Admittedly.”
“It’s in my best interest that you get what you need,” said Asp. “If you’ll let me stay the night here somewhere, I’ll work from dawn until the harvest is in. Then we’ll have a celebratory drink, and everything will be great.”
Rick and Ginger looked at one another. Rick shrugged, and Ginger giggled.
“Deal, I guess,” said Ginger. “We’re closing down now to be up early tomorrow. Rick will bring in a cot for you, and you can sleep in here. We rise just before sunrise tomorrow, and we’ll have you working by the time the crow cries.”
“You can take as many breaks as you need,” said Rick.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Asp. “You said you need a hard worker, so that’s what I’ll be.”
Rick smiled and shook his head as though he couldn’t believe Asp was real. “Good night, Heather,” he said.
“Good night,” said Ginger. She and Rick strode to the front door.
“Good night, you two,” said Asp. “See you bright and early.”
Asp walked around the bar and examined the place. She’d been here for business plenty before, but had never taken the time to really take it in. Rick brought in the cot and wished her good night again, then excused himself. Asp nestled in the cot as the sun’s rays lowered to darkness, thinking about whether she was truly prepared for tomorrow.
—
The sun was setting again. Asp wiped sweat from her face. She brushed her damp hand against the canvassy jumpsuit that Ginger had given her to save her nicer clothes. Asp reached out and plucked a peach before transferring it to the other hand and plucking another. She descended the ladder she was on and placed both peaches carefully into the brimming basket. Though her legs ached, she climbed the ladder once more and picked two more peaches, which she carried down the ladder again and transferred them to the basket. Another climb up, and she picked the last three peaches from the tree, balancing the third carefully between the other two, and brought them down to the basket on the ground.
Asp took the ladder and carried it to the edge of the orchard. She walked wearily back into the orchard and, one by one, hauled dozens of bushels of fruit to the edge with the ladder. Exhausted, she considered sitting down, but decided against it. I sit down, I’m not getting up any time soon.
A massive cart pulled by two donkeys came toward Asp and the gathered fruit. Rick and Ginger sat in the front, and three laborers unfamiliar to Asp sat in the back.
“We brought help!” called Rick.
“Not necessary,” called back Asp in a voice she had meant to be strong, but which had come out thick and tired.
“What?!” cried Ginger.
“Look at all those bushels,” said one of the pickers, a fair-haired human boy.
Asp smiled performatively at the arriving help. “You said you needed a hard worker,” she said.
“Heather, this is incredible! We were ready to work for another few hours,” said Ginger.
“No need,” said Asp.
“Guys, get this fruit on the cart,” Ginger ordered the pickers, who immediately set to lifting the bushels onto the cart. It was soon full with several baskets of fruit left to be loaded.
“I bet you’re tired,” said Rick.
Asp laughed. “If I can be honest, Rick, I am maybe the most tired I have ever been.”
“You’re not even sure?!” cried Rick.
Asp smiled devilishly. “I’m a hard worker.”
“Let’s get you back to the compound,” said Rick. “Ginger’ll set up a bath for you, and you can join us for a late dinner when you’re ready.”
“That sounds lovely,” said Asp. She climbed onto the cart next to Ginger.
“C’mon, Heather,” said Ginger. She snapped the reins, sending the donkeys forward. “You’re a bushel of surprises, aren’t you?”
Asp allowed herself to sink into the thinly padded seat. “Did we save the harvest?” she asked.
Ginger laughed. “Child, we have more to work with this year than the last two years combined. Thimblefull Wines is in a good position.”
The cart bumped along, and Asp nearly nodded off on the way, but Ginger kept talking to her about the day’s work and how the grape harvest had been, and Asp stayed awake until she slipped into the tub of warm water, where she scrubbed away a week’s worth of dirt and aches and nodded off.
She awoke with the water chilly and climbed out. She put on the dress she’d arrived in the day before and went out to find Rick and Ginger.
They were at the bar with plates of dinner in front of them. A heaping plate of mashed potatoes, pot roast, and green beans sat with an empty wine glass at a space for Asp. Rick and Ginger saw her enter the room and waved and called out greetings to her.
“You take a nap in the tub?” asked Rick.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” said Asp. “I hope you didn’t wait for me,” she added, eyeing their mostly untouched plates.
“We’re fine,” said Ginger. “Come, sit, eat, get your strength back.”
Asp mounted the stool at the bar and tucked into the potatoes.
“Wine?” asked Rick.
“Please,” said Asp.
Rick smiled and went behind the bar. He searched for a while underneath, but eventually came up with a bottle with a plain black label which read, in simple white letters, “Vintage Origin.” Ginger’s eyes lit up in surprise, but she smiled, and the surprise disappeared from her face. Rick uncorked the bottle and poured modest glasses for the three of them.
Asp took her wine glass and breathed deeply from it. Her eyes widened. “Holy shit,” she said. “Normally with you two, I try to describe the fragrances and sound all expert, but damn. That smells delicious. What’s ‘Vintage Origin’ mean?”
Ginger chuckled. “It’s our finest wine from our first year as a vineyard,” she said quietly.
Asp felt suddenly quite awake. “Wasn’t that almost forty years ago?”
Rick smiled. “Forty-one next month,” he said.
“And you’re drinking it with me?” asked Asp.
Ginger and Rick looked at each other. Rick shrugged and turned to Asp. “Heather, we have been saving this bottle for a long time. We agreed way back then that it was for only the most special of occasions.” He looked long at Asp. “You saw her face when I pulled this bottle out. Surprised at first, but she understands. She agrees. Right, Ginger?”
Ginger smiled. “You invested in us and gave us a chance for the future we’ve hoped for. Today, you labored for us for nothing to guarantee that future. Heather, you are a part of this business in a way that we could never deny. You deserve a taste of what we came from, and you will have a taste of what we become, too. It’s your right at this point.”
Asp smiled, tears in her eyes. This is what I needed. Her muscles ached. Her bones ached. Vaguely, her head ached. And yet, she kept thinking, This is exactly what I needed.
Asp hungrily ate her dinner and savored the wine, which was unlike anything she had had before. Rick and Ginger were tight-lipped about the recipe, but Rick said, “We may have to make another batch this year in honor of the new life of Thimblefull Wines.” The night continued with the whispered tone of intimate conversations and the blush of good wine, and Asp awoke the next morning on the cot once again, moved there by Rick after she passed out, exhausted, at the bar.
—
By noon, Asp was back in Thistlewade and making tea in her apartment. Iris was stirring from a sleep that had spanned most of Asp’s absence, and she amused herself by weaving between Asp’s legs in the kitchen. The water became hot enough, and Asp poured it into a cup with herbs and tea and set it down to steep. She was just about to sit down in her favorite armchair and let her aching muscles continue to rest–the walk back to the city had not exactly helped her feel less exhausted–when there was a knock at the door. She wearily walked over and opened it. It was her father.
“Heather,” he said. “Mr. Cloud said you came by the day before yesterday but I couldn’t stop to see you.” He produced a seed roll from behind his back. “I think I owe you one,” he said.
Asp smiled and took the roll. “Thanks, Dad. Sorry you had to go all day without a break.”
“Without a break?” asked Cedric.
Asp frowned. “Mr. Cloud said you had to finish that house by sundown, and there couldn’t be any breaks.”
Her father shook his head. “I don’t know why he said that. We’ll be building that house for another few days still.”
Asp rolled her eyes. “Oh well. Why don’t you come in?”
“I have a few minutes,” he replied, stepping inside. “But I can’t stay long.”
“Back to work?” asked Asp.
“Back to work,” he confirmed. “But I wanted to see why you came by the day before yesterday.”
“Oh,” said Asp, remembering that she had wanted to hear him be comforting. But she thought also of Rick and Ginger, and about how she didn’t feel that emptiness in her now. “I was just having an off day, and I wanted to hear your voice.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said. “Is everything okay now?”
“Yeah,” said Asp. “I was just in a weird place in my head.” She brushed some hair from her face.
“Oh, what happened to your hand?” asked Cedric. “It looks like your hand got–oh, it looks like both your hands got all chewed up. What were you doing?”
Asp laughed quietly, then again loudly, and on and on for a few moments. She calmed herself and said, “I helped harvest fruit at an orchard yesterday.”
Her father laughed too. “That’s hard work, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”
Proud, she thought. Is that all it takes? Break my body, and you’re proud?
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“You know, I brought you something,” said her father.
“You already brought me a seed roll,” said Asp playfully.
“I saw this in the market the other day, and I thought of you,” said Cedric. He reached into a pocket and retrieved a long gold chain which ended in a stalky flower; pink and purple crystals covered the flowered part. “It’s heather,” he said. “Like my little girl.”
Asp smiled. “Awww,” she said. “I mean, I’m not really little anymore, but I love it.” She took the necklace and placed it around her neck. The jeweled heather hung over her heart.
“I can pretend you’re still little if I want,” said her father. “I’m allowed.”
“But you like me like I am, grown up?” she asked.
He breathed sharply, then spoke quietly, as though he were about to cry. “I love you like you are, sweetheart,” he said. “Exactly like you are.”
Asp smiled and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad. I love you like you are, too.”
Cedric smiled, but he quickly turned to the door. “I have to get going.” He turned back to face her. “But it was good to see you.”
“Good to see you too,” said Asp. “Thank you for the necklace.”
“Of course,” said Cedric. “I’ll see you soon. Stop by for dinner later this week.”
“I’ll try,” said Asp. “Remember not to work too hard!”
Cedric laughed and left the apartment. “Don’t say that around Mr. Cloud!” he called. “Love you!”
“Love you too!” called Asp. She closed the door and went to her pack. She pulled out a wine bottle with an ornate orange label marked “Summer Blend - Year of the Plum” and set it down amongst her small collection of wine in the kitchen. She eyed the plain writing along the top of the bottle, Thimblefull Vineyards, and smiled. Her back and legs burned still, and she took her now-steeped tea back to her armchair. She sat down and allowed Iris to climb into her lap.
Mom can always be depended on to look at me like I’m sick and dirty. Dad can sometimes be a force of good for me, but not just any time. Rick and Ginger are sweet, but I’m their business partner, not their daughter. She sighed. Maybe between all of them put together with Iris, I’ll be fine.
Asp looked down at the curled cat in her lap, purring away. “Life is complicated, baby,” she told Iris. “And I’m not sure I understand it.” She stroked Iris’s back gently. “But I think I’m figuring it out.”
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