That, I understood. “Thank you. You’ve given me something to think about,” I added, heading for the stairs.
I needed to change, so Fade wasn’t left to make awkward conversation with Edmund. My nerves skittered as I ran up the steps. I couldn’t say why this was different, as I’d eaten with Fade countless times as we traveled. But some part of me recognized there had never been an occasion like this one before.
In a great hurry I washed up and took my hair down from the plaits I’d adopted for fighting. The brown strands fell around my shoulders in unruly waves. I had a small mirror in my room, but as ever, I felt no connection to the girl who stood, playing with her reflection. I knew I wasn’t as pretty as some girls at school, but that seemed irrelevant. I was strong and I could fight; surely that mattered more.
I scrambled into a green dress that I didn’t hate, as it was simple. Wearing it instead of my own clothes would please Momma Oaks; she had sewn it for me without frills. Turning this way and that, I decided I was clean and presentable, so I went down the stairs at a run. Edmund was just answering the door, ushering Fade inside, and my heart thumped with silly pleasure. I’d spent all day with him, more or less, even if work hadn’t permitted time for talking.
He looked different to me, somehow, since I’d accepted that our partnership had personal meaning. I’d always been fascinated by his face, but now I paid too much attention to his mouth when he spoke. I felt awkward, as if I had five thumbs on my hand, until he laced his fingers quietly through mine. Then I settled like a bird on just the right limb.
“We should see if she needs help,” I said, tilting my head toward the kitchen.
Fade agreed with an alacrity that made me glad I’d suggested it. Had he once helped his mother in the kitchen? Clearly he knew what he was doing better than I did, so I took a seat at the table and watched them. He should be here with the Oakses, I thought. Not me. After the life I’d led, it wouldn’t bother me to be used for my labor. It was, in fact, precisely what I was used to.
But Fade? I wanted him to be happy, more than anything.
Bittersweetness
Over a fine meal of fried meat and potatoes, my foster family made an effort to get to know Fade. They asked him what it was like down below, and then about life with his parents in the ruins. At first, I didn’t think he felt comfortable talking, but the more Momma Oaks plied him with food, the less reticent he became.
Down below—and as we traveled—we’d survived on much less. So much to eat, freely given—and this was a basic meal by Salvation standards because it was left from last year’s growing season. This seemed to me like a land of plenty. Part of me still couldn’t believe Fade’s dad had been right.
“So you lived in Gotham with your parents?” Momma Oaks asked. “I don’t mean to touch on a painful subject, but how old were you when—”
“When they died?” Fade finished.
The older woman nodded. “Yes.”
I was fascinated because I’d never asked him much about his life Topside, mostly because I had no faith he’d answer me. I had failed to believe him when he wanted to talk, and that left him faintly angry on the whole subject. So I looked forward to his answers.
“I was around six when my mom passed, eight or nine when my dad did.”
Edmund and Momma Oaks shared a significant glance, though what about, I had no idea. “Were they … sick, son?”
Fade nodded, but from his expression, I sensed he didn’t want to talk further. His face tightened; his eyes dropped to his plate. Discussing the illness would bring all those memories to life again; there was no call to salt a good meal with old sorrow.
So I said, “This roast is delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”
“It’s pheasant,” Momma Oaks explained. “Hunters went out yesterday and we bought one of the birds.”
That gave me a pang. I would’ve liked to be included in a party that brought back meat for the settlement. It was what I ought to be doing, according to my training, not sitting in a schoolhouse. But we’d had that argument before when I first came to stay; and I had done well enough getting included in the summer patrols. One step at a time, I told myself. I couldn’t expect to circumvent all their rules right away. It was enough that here, unlike down below, some citizens like Longshot and Momma Oaks were willing to hear about other ways of doing things.
I could live with the consequences. After all, the women of Salvation couldn’t make life more complicated than they already did. Their whispers had followed me since my first day in town. Maybe they judged Tegan in the same fashion, and that was why she was trying so hard to fit in, making friends with their daughters. Whereas I chose to fight alongside their men.
After we ate, I did the cleanup while they chatted in the sitting room. The warm, soapy water felt soothing; it was a mindless task—scrub and rinse. Along with the sewing, this was one of my chores, and I was happy to do it in exchange for regular food in my belly. But I was starting to realize that even if I refused to help at all, Momma Oaks would still make sure I got fed. She was that kind of person.
It was full dark, so Edmund lit candles and lamps to brighten the gloom, a prettier glow than the torches down below, and they smelled better too. The air was all around fresher and cleaner here, even with Freaks stinking up the wasteland beyond. This was a cozy room, made more so by the warm yellow curtains on the window and the polished beams that framed the upstairs.
Momma Oaks settled in a chair next to her husband’s, which left the small sofa for Fade and me. He didn’t seem to mind, and he sat close enough to hold my hand. Since I’d kissed his cheek of my own free will before the whole town, guards and all, it seemed wrong to quail at this. My foster parents exchanged an indulgent look, amused at our affection, I suppose.
“We should have a story,” the older woman said.
Edmund appeared amenable. “Which one, Mother?”
It struck me strange that he used that as an endearment for her, as she clearly wasn’t his dam. But she didn’t argue it, so I didn’t either.
“You should tell the one about the founding of Salvation.”
Inwardly, I groaned. Mrs. James had relayed this tale before, and I invariably wandered away mentally, before the long, boring recitation concluded. But I didn’t want to hurt Edmund’s feelings when I’d only just realized that in his way, he cared what became of me. He wasn’t demonstrative like his wife, but he’d come out to the gate to make sure of my safety. So I squeezed Fade’s hand, telling him silently to be polite, and he returned the pressure with a half-smile so lovely that it made me forget my unvoiced objections to an extra history lesson.