A Turn of the Key Chapter 4: Just One More Reason
There he was, finally.
After wandering through the crowd of people, trying to pick them out from the teeming mass, he’d finally latched onto the sound of his mother’s voice, crying out in a single, desperate plea.
“Tom! Tom, don’t leave us! We need you with-” her voice cut off, but not before he followed it to the source, tripping and stumbling against the legs of towering merchants in his urge to find his family.
“Mother, what-”
“What are you doing to mother!”
And again.
Wink Hardly wiped the sweat from his face and shot up in bed. Something moist dripped from his eyes, and his chest felt strangely tight. Had he been crying again?
I thought I was over this, but recently...
He shook his head and lightly slapped his face, doing his best to clear the morose thoughts from his mind. The early morning greyness had crept through his shutters and lit his room with a drab glow, picking the dust motes out in harsh detail.
I can’t afford to be upset right now, he chastised himself. I’ve got a date with Poppy!
He stopped and reconsidered this.
Ahem, a workdate. Yes. Need a farmhand to help me with the chores around here.
Even so, the thought of spending time with Poppy again wasn’t the worst in the world, and anything to distract him from his inner demons was a plus in his eyes.
Surprising himself with a spring in his step and a tune on his lips, he went to work with gusto, admiring the much-improved feeding device in action before promptly milking Old Beth, raking the leaves in the front lawn, and sweeping off the porch.
Gotta make sure the place looks spiffy before she arrives, he reasoned with himself, don’t wanna overwork the poor gal, now.
When she showed up that afternoon in her usual spot near Ole Beth’s pen, he was ready, wearing the least patchy pair of overalls he could find and his lucky straw hat. He was a farmer, and he made sure he looked the part- all the way down to the long piece of wheat stuck between his lips (chewed ever so pensively) as he leaned against the fence and regarded her with squinting eyes.
“Well, hello there, Farmer John,” she teased cheerfully as she walked up to him, “you ready to show me the ropes?”
Wink had to force the smile away from his lips as he replied, “I reckon,” in the most drawled accent he could muster. He wouldn’t let his wit be bested today, no siree.
“That piece of grass taste good?” She smiled sweetly.
Damn.
He spat it out and glared at her, then softened his gaze and wiped his tongue with the palm of his hand. Got him again.
“Didn’t think so. Now come on, farmer boy, show me around!”
He gestured to follow him and turned around so she wouldn’t see the big, stupid smile on his face. Good thing he cleaned the place- he had a feeling he’d be giving her the grand tour.
As he showed her his house, his toolshed, where he ate, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at how easily amazed she was. Here she was, the daughter of a wealthy, famous scientist, and yet she gawked over everything- his fireplace, his bedroom, the way the house looked...at first he wasn’t sure what to make of it, thinking maybe she was joking with him or being sarcastic.
But the genuine wonder that shone in her eyes and the detailed questions she asked proved him wrong, and as he started to finish up the tour he began to understand why.
This girl had grown up in a bubble, sheltered from the outside world.
He wasn’t sure why, whether it be because of an overprotective father or perhaps her class or status, but for whatever reason she had seen very little of the outside world beyond the extremities of her backyard, and it showed, not only in her curiosity and wonder at everything different from her own life, but in her naive, guileless nature, as well.
She’s lucky she didn’t meet someone else first, he realized with a shiver of horror running down her spine, else she may have had a very different reception than a gruff how-do-you-do.
Eventually, however, the tour had finished, and soon, he knew, it would be time to put her to work. He felt a bit bad after his realization, but she was ready and willing to try and had proven herself capable and quick on her feet.
A promise is a promise, he told himself, so here goes nothing.
“Alrighty then,” he began as they both plopped down onto the rickety dining room chairs, “that was everything. After a quick breather, it’ll be time to start workin’.”
“Alrighty then,” she mimed, “what will we be workin’ on?” He ran through the list of chores in his head, now significantly shorter due to his diligence earlier that day, and began to list them off verbally.
“OK, so we gotta repair the holes in the roof, fix the door on the toolshed...”
“Fix the roof? Great. I brought some basic supplies with me, and I think those will cover your needs.” She nodded with such a serious look on her face, he had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter.
“Sounds good, Poppy,” he finally managed through his fingers. He hoped she didn’t notice. “Let’s start with that, then.”
Only a few minutes later, they were on the roof, Wink biting his nails as Poppy raced along the shingles fearlessly, her basket full of scrap wood and nails pilfered from her father’s storage room, laughing her careless laugh.
Despite this, the job took half the time he expected, and all without serious injuries. The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when the last plank was hammered into place, and soon Poppy was on her way, sprinting off at full speed like she always did when it was time to head home.
Wink still sat there on the roof, watching as the sun went down.
For some reason, he thought the colors looked just a little brighter than they usually did that day.
The next day he woke up to blinding sun through his shutter and rose slowly, yawning and stretching. He looked outside, then around the room before putting his hand to his face and coming away dry.
Guess they’ve decided not to visit today, he mused. It was a strange feeling, waking up on his own without the aid of nightmares. He wondered if he’d get used to it.
Probably just tired from working so hard yesterday.
Just like yesterday, he showed up right before Poppy did, and just like yesterday, he listed off a chore or two, she brought some basic tools and materials, and they got everything done.
As he thought, she needed more breaks than he did, being so unaccostomed to the labor-intensive farm work, but he didn’t mind taking more breaks. As she caught her breath and stretched her muscles, they would have short little conversations and exchanges. Nothing too complicated or deep, just small-talk where Wink talked about something funny that happened the other day, or a deer he spotted grazing just a few feet away from his window. Not to be outdone, Poppy would share much of her knowledge about physics, gleaned from books her father had lying around the house, or perhaps a time where an invention she worked on failed spectacularly.
These breaks were the highlights of Wink’s day, and every time she asked for a breather he eagerly acquiesed.
Then, one day, something peculiar happened.
He ran out of things for her to do.
After just one week, every single chore he had backlogged on his to-do list had been done, including the ones he had to do each day. Even the fence, a project he thought would take ages to complete, had only really taken one day (and multiple trips on Poppy’s part) to complete, as most of the wood necessary was already there and simply needed to be nailed back in place.
It was after this chore, in fact, that it happened. They had nailed the last plank into place and had plopped down in the grass, looking at their handiwork- Poppy reclining in contented silence and Wink churning through his list searching for even a single thing they could work on.
Finally, Poppy broke the silence, causing Wink to snap out of his fevered thinking with a start.
“So I guess it’s finished,” she stated. Wink cursed to himself as she stated the obvious, hoping against hope she wouldn’t realize there wasn’t anything left to do.
Come on, think of something! Anything!
Just one more reason for her to stay...
A tinny meow keened from a few feet away as the mechanical cat Poppy had brought him came to a stop and sat down, watching him with silver eyes.
Happy for the distraction, Wink quickly picked it up and placed it in his lap. The cat, not necessarily unhappy with its position, quickly took the hint and started rubbing against him insistently.
“You know, the cat you brought really is amazing, Poppy,” he started as he ran his hand down the rippling warm metal. Poppy half-smiled and reached over, scritching it behind the ears. Its purring grew louder.
“Did you name it yet?”
He thought about this, then shook his head.
“No, not yet. Not sure what to call ‘im.” The silence stretched a bit further as the cat purred quietly and kneaded his leg. He quickly continued, trying to keep the conversation from turning the direction he knew it would eventually.
“Although it does remind me of another cat that used to come around here before I made the feedin’ device.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. There were a good deal of cats that wandered around here and ate the mice and some of the pheasants we caught. Most of ‘em were pretty wild and didn’t take kindly to human contact, but there were a few that let us pet ‘em now and again.” He shifted his eyes over to her face to see her reaction, make sure she was paying attention and not thinking about the nonexistent chore he had planned next.
“The friendliest of all of ‘em was this little rascal we called ‘Nosy’, on account of his white nose and his tendency to get into all sorts of ruckus when we weren’t lookin’.” He smiled at the memory in spite of himself. “But I guess my tinkerin’ must’ve scared most of ‘em off, it bein’ loud and all.”
Silence descended on them again as she nodded and looked back at the fence, all fixed up and snazzy with a new gloss of white paint. He felt her move a little, shift as the mood grew impatient, and then broke.
“Well, I suppose that’s the last of it, then,” she started as she stood up, “got done earlier than I thought we would.”
His heart sank a bit as he heard this. She knew it was the last thing on the list, then, and was about to leave. He stood up as well, eyes darting for an excuse, any excuse, to keep her here for a while longer, having long given up on trying to convince himself that he didn’t care.
Luckily, he didn’t have to panic for long. A loud growl rose up from her belly, and she covered it with both hands, blushing furiously.
“Good thing, too- guess it’s been a while since I’ve eaten. I really should get ba-”
“You wanna come in for some stew?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. He knew there wasn’t much to offer, perhaps that his food would seem paltry compared to the feasts she probably had in her fancy mansion with her scientist father. “It’s not fancy or nothin’, but I think I have enough for an extra bowl...”
“Stew? Is that...something you eat?” Her face lit up with that insatiable curiosity of hers, and he felt a groan build up inside him, but he managed to keep it down as he gestured for her to follow him inside.
Oh boy. She’s never had pheasant stew before. Well, then, get ready for the disappointment of a lifetime, girly.