Author's Preface
The porch wrapped around the entire gray brick abode and hosted long visits with family and close friends. It was the pinnacle of Sycharian social life; an invitation onto the porch was met with enthusiasm and polished leather shoes. Dozens of rocking chairs and seating of all sizes filled the spaces around carefully decorated tables.
She went to the rocking chair her husband had made her and sat down, considering her daughter.
Delilah had never been one to blindly concede, which was vexing enough for Edith, but even worse was that her fourth daughter was the fairest with her beauty, figure and coloring. She had every reason to attract high-quality suitors, yet she showed no awareness that she turned heads when she bothered to appear in public. It was a failure on Edith’s part, in her own estimation, that she had let Delilah continue to live as though she had colored bones like the hated fae. The wait for Delilah to be kidnapped had to end, and Edith had to be the one to end it.
The front door opened, and her wisp of a daughter floated across the porch to the chair on Edith’s right. Delilah sat tucking her dress under legs wondering what her mother had heard about the fae and if this was going to be another scolding about them.
“What does our family name mean to you?” Edith asked.
Delilah tried to think of what her mother might expect her to say. She kept her hands in her lap and considered her floral cotton dress.
“Our name is our pride and heritage,” she said quietly. Edith nodded.
“Our name is the envy of all Sychar, and yet we cannot seem to marry off a perfectly healthy, educated, able daughter. You’re twenty now, so you cannot sit in the garden and expect a man to kidnap you. You must go out and be like the birds.”
Delilah rubbed her lips and tilted her head as if she dared to say a rebuttal that male birds perform, but her mother continued.
“All three of your older sisters were married before their eighteenth birthday, yet you are hiding in trees and reading books ,” she scolded.
“I know,” Delilah whispered.
“You will marry and marry soon. I have had enough of this and will see to it that you cannot waste your birthing years taking up useless hobbies and befriending forest creatures.”
Delilah studied the tiny pink flowers on her dress. Her mother tutted, rocking and looking out over the gardens she kept in meticulous precision.
“You could have married that cobbler if you hadn’t fought him,” Edith grumbled, glaring at a hummingbird that was chasing another from the hyacinth. “Who fights the bridal kidnapping at seventeen? Not me; I was ecstatic. Your father claimed me in the middle of the street by picking me up and running me home! That!” she snapped her attention back to Delilah. “Is romance!”
Before Delilah could answer, a voice drifted over the front garden in a falsely high-pitched welcome.
The women corrected their postures and smiled, because anything less was simply not like a Hueman to do. Edith spotted Bethany arriving, so Edith stood and did what she did best.
“Oh, hello!” she called out, waving her hand at the wrist. “What a lovely time to come! Please come up!”
Delilah smiled, her hands clenching together, wondering where her sympathetic father might be.
Bethany stood eight-feet-tall with gray eyes. She had worn her very best smock for the invitation, and nearly cried that morning trying to get her red hair to look like Edith’s effortless twisted updo.
“I am so very lucky to be welcomed here,” Bethany said, walking up the steps with clasped six-fingered hands.
“We are so pleased to have you,” Edith said.
Delilah forced a surprisingly convincing smile, and offered a chair beside herself for her taking. It was much too small for Bethany, but that was exactly Delilah’s point.
Bethany thanked Edith again and sat in a groaning, much larger chair facing Edith.
“We had to come enjoy the cooler weather, you know, with the rain on its way. It is so nice to have time with my Delilah before she’s swept away to have my grandchildren!” Edith told her, gesturing to Delilah with a dramatic wrist twirl. Delilah grinned awkwardly; her mother frowned for a second.
“Indeed, I know the feeling,” Bethany agreed.
“Grandchildren are the best of luck an old woman like me could hope for. They light every room like the brightest candle,” Edith drawled.
Bethany leaned forward with a grin full of hope.
“We would love grandchildren, but Clive has yet to take a bride, and our younger daughter is just about sixteen,” Bethany said, shaking her head, which made her loose neck skin wobble.
“Yes, and how old is Clive?”
“Nineteen; a properly strong young man,” Bethany bragged. “He’s head of the jail now: a stable, well-paying job, and has been busy making kitchen supplies for his fully furnished house. We also expect him to take his father's position as the head guard in time.”
“Oh, what perfect luck. He is a catch with a furnished house and an important station.”
Delilah's eye twitched, and she realized what was unfolding. She looked up at her mother, begging silently, which her mother ignored completely.
Edith reached over to grip Delilah’s knee. “You know, my Delilah is the next available child to marry. She’s ready to commit and has very few flaws, as her education and training are complete. Her three elder sisters all married young, but this one,” she said, slapping Delilah’s knee, “has been saved for the best.”
Delilah choked on an argument with a cough, but the mothers ignored her.
“A worthy bride for any young man, yes. A beautiful, educated woman,” Bethany said in syrupy sweetness.
“Let’s say this,” Edith said, sitting back in her chair and rocking slowly. “Your Clive can kidnap my Delilah, and we agree he cannot return her or take a second wife. If he provides a house, the family will give her dowry in monetary value. We expect our Delilah to be kept well, as she was raised well.”
“I don’t–” Delilah began. Edith snapped in her face, cutting her off.
“You have no place here. I’ve waited long enough.”
“But please ,” she begged, her face flushing once more. Edith grinned: a tight invitation to incite wrath. Bethany caught her breath, glancing between them.
“Clive will take Delilah. We all know she is certainly spirited with her attention and will, but your luck is in your name. Clive is a catch, as you said, and many would not fight if he chose to bridal kidnap them.” Bethany gave a decided smile, hoping she did well.
Delilah tried to remember when she could exhibit any spirited nature without being caught with a spoon or switch.
Edith crossed her legs to the other side and tilted her head with a smile. Her red updo remained perfect, and her apron without a crease.
“A family is not without its faults. Delilah may receive other offers, ones that are more willing and excitable. Favor comes and goes like summer storms, doesn’t it?” Edith said.
Bethany’s smile wavered; she raised her eyebrows.
“I didn’t–” Bethany began before Edith cut her off.
“There are a great many families in Sychar who may appreciate a spirited wife rather than seeing my intelligent Delilah as a hindrance. Perhaps, maybe, someone closer to her social station and size.”
A slow smile crept across Edith’s face as Bethany shrank to an inch tall. Delilah had held her breath, watching her mother.
“A sharp spirit is to be desired, not contained to its peril,” Bethany said, hoping to salvage the match. Edith hummed and smoothed the red hair by her ear with a thoughtful squint.
“We have never been accused of being dull, have we, Del?” Edith asked rhetorically.
Bethany nodded, wondering if the young woman had half of her mother’s edge.
“I would rather have a sharp daughter than dull. Clive is able and willing,” Bethany said.
“It is settled. A family bound together by an advantageous marriage is a family nonetheless. Well, I’d hate to keep you when you have so much to discuss and prepare with your Clive,” Edith said in her forever calm manner.
Delilah’s eyes widened, and her heart fell.
“I absolutely will. Clive will prepare to come immediately. Yet, uhm, there is a fae loose in the village, so our Clive has his work cut out for him until it is removed. Have a lovely rest of your day, Mrs. Hueman, and you, Delilah,” Bethany said as she rose to her feet.
Delilah dropped her eyes to the flowers on her dress, and Bethany’s heart twinged with worry anew.
Edith rose to her feet as Bethany left, her hands over her waist, clasping her wrists as Bethany took ill-timed moments to compliment flowers before going through the wrought-iron gate to the road. Edith stayed on her feet, watching with a smile until she went out of sight.
Edith’s smile slipped, and Delilah hunched, watching her as she sat down again.
“Say your mind, because it will come out either way,” Edith said flippantly.
“You know I don’t want to marry Clive,” Delilah whispered.
“Is that it?” Edith asked sarcastically, sighing.
“No,” Delilah said, sitting forward in her chair. “He has Claudia, whom he should be kidnapping. If he is forced to take me, we will be stuck in a miserable marriage neither of us wants.”
“If he wanted Claudia, he would have taken her already. He will do well for himself by taking a Hueman instead.”
Delilah shook her head, her mouth twisted into a frown.
“This isn’t about me at all, is it? I don’t matter so long as there’s a union and the next in line can marry? I want to be loved in marriage–wanted and not forced to be kept.”
Edith pressed her lips for a moment, disgruntled by how dramatic her daughter had become.
“You will learn to love him. He’s a kind young man and will be an excellent husband. You’ll have to trust me. I can see quality in men, and he is a man of quality.”
“Who is in love with Claudia! He will be an excellent husband for her .”
Edith leaned forward, taking Delilah’s knee. Delilah flinched and stilled.
“I’m sorry you’re frustrated, but that is just how it is. I am trying to make your life easier, and you don’t grasp my charity.”
Delilah exhaled slowly, shaking her head with her eyes welling with tears.
“Clive will be gentle with you, I’m sure, and I will have my daughters married off before it’s too late. Claudia will find someone else. You, however, are set for life. You should be thanking me,” she said, sitting back and smoothing her apron.
“I’d like someone who is not set on my best friend. That minimum is not unreasonable.”
Humidity encased them, and cloud lightning tore through the distant sky as a storm fought the mountain range. Edith nodded and held the armrest on her rocking chair.
“Is there someone else you would like instead?”
“No. I’ve not had any interest since the cobbler,” Delilah admitted bitterly.
“I understood why you fought him after, but the act has shaded your reputation. This arrangement will be best for you... I’m going inside, but you should stay and consider Clive’s many positive attributes.”
“No,” Delilah said, flashing her gray eyes up. “What if I don’t marry at all?”
Edith dragged her eyes to Delilah, frowning. Thunder rolled as it crept into the valley where Sychar lay hidden deep in the northern mountains.
“You cannot be so selfish and stupid as to think that is a viable option. We both know you do not have the money to live alone, even in your dowry house. You would be preventing your younger brother from marrying and your own happiness. I am doing what I can for your best good. Clive will come for you, and you will marry him without a fight.”
When Delilah did not respond, the mother went inside, leaving her alone on the wide porch. She brought her knees up and hugged her legs, resting her forehead. Quiet, self-contained sobs were masked by raindrops dotting the ground.