Remembrance

All in all, it was the best play the townspeople had ever seen: romance, excitement, breathtaking spills.

When Talis and Callie were at last able to untangle themselves—and no one offered to help—Talis, with great ceremony, presented the pretty little monkey to Callie. “With all my love,” he said loudly.

When she accepted the monkey, Talis made gestures that said that now his life could truly begin, then he led her out of the dirty stables and they headed toward the hill where her Poison Garden lay. Behind them the crowd laughed and agreed that this had been the best fair they’d ever attended.

36

Seventeen Years After Birth

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I hate men!” Callie said with vehemence, brushing the monkey’s tail out of her mouth as she spoke.

She and Dorothy Hadley were in what had once been the Poison Garden. It was st

ill called that, but the character of the garden had changed under the care of Callie and Dorothy. It had been a whole year since Callie had first come to Hadley Hall, and after the first chaos of everyone finding his or her place, things had settled down. Callie spent her days taking care of her garden, with Father Keris happily dozing in the shade, a hoe near him in case someone should happen up the hill (after all, he was in charge, wasn’t he?).

Two weeks after Callie had been sent to the garden, Dorothy found that she missed her very much, so gradually, Dorothy began to ease herself out from under Edith’s rule and spend her days with Callie. In the last year, for some unknown reason, Edith had become more angry and more of a tyrant than ever, and, besides, Callie was a great deal more fun than any of her sisters.

Dorothy never told anyone this because they might laugh at her, but while she and Callie worked in the garden, putting order into what had been little more than a patch of weeds, Callie often told stories. Wonderful stories, stories of great romance without all the fighting that the jongleurs put in their stories. In Callie’s stories the women were strong and courageous and brave and very often saved the hero’s life.

Dorothy gave a great sigh as she weeded a clump of monkshood. “I would like to spend enough time with a man so I could come to hate him. As it is, saying that I hate men is like saying I hate cinnamon. It is too rare to make a judgment.” As Dorothy said this, she glanced up at Callie, hoping for a compliment on her joke.

As always, curled around Callie’s neck or her wrist or even sitting on her head, was the little monkey Talis had given her. Callie had named him Kipp, and the animal was so grateful for the kindness and love, not to mention good food, it received from its mistress that it never left her. When it was frightened it would sometimes scurry under Callie’s skirt and cling to her ankle or knee. But, always, it was with her.

But Callie didn’t laugh at Dorothy’s witticism as she usually did. “If you knew them you would hate them,” she said seriously.

Dorothy sighed. “What has Talis done now?”

“What makes you think my hatred has anything to do with him?” Callie snapped. “What makes you think I have anything to do with him?”

Dorothy gave Callie a look that said everything. Personally, Dorothy was beginning to think that loving only one man was like having only one food to eat. It became quite monotonous after a while. “You think of him, dream of him, live for him, your every thought, your—”

“Ha!” Callie said, but she turned away from Dorothy and attacked some wolfsbane with a hoe, her abrupt action causing Kipp to give a squeal and nearly choke Callie with his tail. “Well, if I did ever think of him, which I do not, it would do no good. He has no time for me. He spends all his time with other women. He dances with them, sings to them.” She narrowed her eyes. “He fetches for them.”

As Dorothy watched, amusement growing on her face, Callie began to parody Talis and the many women who surrounded him. Callie deepened her voice. “Oh dear lady, may I help you carry that very heavy needle? May I be allowed to walk behind you and caress the stones your feet have touched? May I be allowed to breathe the air that you breathe? May I please kneel at your feet and allow you to use my body for a footrest?”

Dorothy couldn’t help giggling. Callie was so funny. Even when she didn’t mean to be, she was quite amusing, which is why Dorothy spent her time with Callie rather than with her sisters. Also, there was something about Callie that attracted men; they liked her. Callie was completely unaware of this fact as her every waking—and probably every sleeping—thought concerned Talis, but daily, men and strapping boys found a reason to stop by the garden. Like as not, Callie would put them to work in the garden, which was why in a mere year she had managed to take something awful and make it into something beautiful.

Callie was now mimicking a huge woman walking, a great clumsy oaf of a thing, and then she was a bigger-than-life strutting man (who could only be Talis) looking up at the fat lady and rolling his eyes in ecstasy. He was telling her she is as dainty as a fairy, as lovely as a moonbeam, as delicate as dandelion fluff.

Callie jabbed at a harmless root with her sharp-edged hoe. “Talis has become a liar and an all-round worthless human being.”

“I think he is just learning courtly etiquette,” Dorothy said, but she did not tell Callie her true feelings. What was happening with Talis and Callie had something to do with her mother, Alida, but Dorothy didn’t know what was going on. Why was it important for Talis to have lessons on every conceivable subject but not important for Callie?

“Etiquette is to tell some fat ugly woman that she is beautiful?” Callie asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“If she is also rich, yes.”

“Then he is a liar.”

Dorothy continued hoeing for a while. She had become used to Callie’s anger. If she was not with Talis then she was angry at him for not being with her. “Have you ever thought that Talis might marry one of these rich women?” Dorothy asked quietly. “For all that he is my father’s favorite, he is a younger son. There will not be much money for him. Talis will have to marry wealth if he is to live well.”

“Yes,” Callie said, her voice sounding like death. “I have thought of this.”

Dorothy took a while before she asked her next question. Part of her wanted to know what was going on, but part of her wanted to stay out of it. Unlike Edith, who never suspected anyone of ulterior motives, Dorothy always thought that what people said had nothing to do with what was true. “Has Talis told you that he wants to marry you?”

When Callie answered, her face was pale and she could barely be heard. “No.”