Chapter Ten: The Cobbler Stones

“I need to stop at the shoemaker’s.” Dill reminded me as we passed through the stone streets of the town. Determinedly, he strutted along the main road against carts and rickshaws manned by zealous and seedy traders. While he didn’t note them, I stared.

“Miss, you look like you could use a scarf.” Smoothly, one pulled a silky cloth around my neck. “See how lovely it looks on you.” He stroked my hair beneath it.

“Sir, I believe you are mistaken. I do not need a scarf. It is not even summer’s end. Also, I have a wool one tucked in my bag,” I verbalized pulling the silk off my neck.

“But it is only the finest material to be made from nature woven by nuns in Swarthara. Isn’t it lovely, miss?” He rubbed the soft cobalt scarf against my cheek.

Forcefully, I clasped a dark hairy forearm and pushed against him. “It is as fine as you say it is, but I have no need for it since it will provide me little warmth in winter.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but Dill yanked his shoulder away.

“She said no. She does not want your damn scarf,” Armadillo barked. “Leave.”

After huffily gripping the handles of his cart, he stalked off. “Some people.”

Dill grabbed my arm. “Next time, keep up,” He ordered, eyebrows lowered.

“It is not my fault that a trader decided to shove a scarf like a noose about my neck. Why do you think that I am such a child?” I slipped out of his grip.

“Jenny, I am trying to protect you. You are very intelligent, but more so naïve. You have never left home before. You would not understand.” He grunted, irked. “Now, may I get my boots so that we can continue to Eirodin?” He forged ahead resolutely.

With his valid argument, I hushed. Uneager to watch his boot fitting, I traced his footsteps with my own until he entered a rather large building in the center of the town.

Weathered wooden shingles, pounded by bouts of rainfall, coated the building. Their ashy tone told the tale of many years. The wooden door was painted red, chipping and dulling into a limp mahogany. A plain wood sign out front read in simplistic white lettering, ‘COBBLERSTONE’S’. The chain creaked to and fro as it swung in the breeze.

I giggled at the simple pun of the name, continuing to the inside of the store.

As Dill and I entered, the chime of a small melodic bell hanging in tune with the opening of the door greeted us. When we stepped further in, the smoky sweet smell of leather combined with the stale air in the store and the heat of the day.

The front counter was a long dark wood, natural with a carved border with designs so intricate that they appeared to be woven into the wood.

Subconsciously, I brushed my fingers against it and leaned on the counter. When a stiff and resounding smack met my hand, I peered up eyes wide and mouth open.

“Don’t touch that, you stupid girl.” Lean and tall, he curled over with age. His beard was ivory wire jutting out of his chin yet embedded in his rumpled thin cheeks. As I stared, he glared back at me. His eyes were steel, metallic and cold. “How may I help you?” His voice was grumble, gruff and hollow as it reverberated off the walls.

“Ah, Mr. Stone, could you perhaps make me a pair of boots?” Dill asked politely.

He grunted corrosively, “So, that is my job…had I only known…”

My face paled. I had thought the name merely a joke, not a ploy on the shoemaker’s surname. “Armadillo, I think we should leave.” I clutched his wrist.

“I cannot walk another town in these and he is the best cobbler in Caligeria, I think.” Dill nodded firmly and planted himself in one of the chairs despite my plea.

The man measured his feet. He had passed his height onto my father, but my father’s bulk must have come from elsewhere. His steel eyes were a cooler version of my father’s smiling charcoal irises. “What are you staring at, girl?” While he was bent over, he sighted my boots. “These are exquisite. Who made them? Rondon? Philips?”

Hoping for him not to inquire farther, I stated nervously, “No, my father did.”

He erected himself. His nose crinkled and his dark eyebrows lowered. “You have come to evaluate his competition, have you? Well, I assure you, no boot is finer made than mine! You have no business in my shop, girl! How dare you, you…you…” In his rage, he was at such a loss for speech that he faltered and only watched me grouchily.

“Uh, my father is not a shoemaker. He’s an… innkeeper.”

Another man stepped out from the back. His hair was a light blondish red. His nose was long, much in tone with his stature. “Father, what has upset you now?” Stressfully, he smoothed the thick worry lines on his forehead, studying me. “Jenny?” When I nodded, he embraced me tightly. “What are you doing so far from home?”

“I am going to Eirodin to search the archives for my mother. Uncle Evan, I’ve missed you.” I completed the hug, wrapping my arms around him.

“Look at you! You are no longer a little girl! You look so much like Eric. You have his ears especially.” He cupped my face. “Look at you,” He whispered. “Father, this is Eric’s daughter! She’s family.” He grinned at me. “You are staying the night?”

What is so special about these ears?  I wondered in my thoughts.

Armadillo chimed in, “We were hoping to find an inn in town so that I could retrieve my boots in the morning and we could be off.” He kept mostly still.

The shoemaker had resumed his work on Dill’s measurements. “It is a long journey to Eirodin. I shall have these done as soon as possible.” He started to carve a fitting for Armadillo’s boots. “And then you can leave right on time.”

“An inn? No, of course not! Between Edith, Emma, Ellis, Eliza, and I, I’m sure we have a spot for you and your companion to sleep!” He insisted to us.

“I would not want to put you out.” I realized that I had not acquainted them. “Oh, yes, Uncle Evan, this is my friend, Dill. He’s traveling to Eirodin with me as a favor.”

He held a calloused rough hand out to him. “Evan Stone, nice to meet you, Dill. Jenny, you would not be taking advantage a lick. You are family after all. Everyone has been quite eager to meet you. You’re a bit enigmatic to them. As soon as your friend’s casting is done, we will get back home. I cannot believe that you are here. How is my brother after all these years? And how is the inn?” He inquired beaming toward me.

“Papa is well. His cooking has improved greatly. I hope the inn is all right; he worries about little else, especially now that the professors have convened there.”

“Eric must be ecstatic! Now that you are grown, has he searched for a wife?”

I hesitated. Am I allowed to talk about this? Does he really need to know?

“Come on, Jen, I will assume it is yes. Besides, your father is not modest.”

“He is smitten with one of the professors. She is…brilliant and she has stayed to help Papa at the inn while I am gone. They seem perfect for one another.”

“A professor! Well, leave it to Eric to romance a professor at her annual gathering.” He chuckled. “Did you hear that, Father?”

The cobbler grunted. He continued his work on the wooden block representing Armadillo’s foot. “I should not have used oak. It is too hard. Pine would be better.” He scraped steadily. His wrinkled hands were steady and sure. “Perfect. Tomorrow, I’ll sew the leather and add the heel. Then you will be on your way.” He set the carving knife on the counter. “Evan, did you finish sweeping?” He growled, eyeing the dark floorboards.

“It is set, Father. Are you ready to go home now?” Uncle Evan tossed his father’s leather working bag over his shoulder and opened the door.

The breeze flew through, cooling the muggy air inside of the shop.

“Feel that cold? Autumn is coming.” The cobbler grumbled, grabbing a pair of spectacles from around his neck and tipping them on his large offset nose. He stepped outside and peered to the grey-clouded sky. “Damn shame, rain tonight.”

Dill and I cautiously tracked behind them until the northern edge of town where five houses stood each identical to the other. All were kempt and trim with two stories of hard dark wood and a stone chimney rising up. We raised an eyebrow to each other.

“Huh, and my family is weird,” Armadillo muttered, spying the houses.

I nudged him. “I have only met my Uncle Evan, none of the rest. This is the life my father ran away from. And be polite. This is my family, I suppose,” I whispered.

“I can see why he ran away,” Dill murmured as he raised his eyebrows.

I jabbed him with my elbow again. “Stop that. You do not choose your family.” Sighing to myself, I followed Uncle Evan to the door of one of the duplicate homes. “What is that?” I gasped, sighting the black wisps of smoke at the edge of the paths.

“It’s fog. Since it is far away, it looks darker. Are you stupid, girl?”

I furrowed my brow. “Fog isn’t black. No matter how far away it is,” I argued. As I squinted to get a better look at it, it dissipated with the increasing wind. “What if-”

“Do not concern yourself with other’s problems,” the shoemaker scowled. “Get in the house.” He shooed Dill and I inside. “I wonder if supper is set. I am bit famished.” He dropped his bag on the floor, continuing to the back of the house out of sight.

“Janie, I’m home! Jane!” Uncle Evan called out into the wooden walls and up the stairs right in the entryway. “Lucy, I’m home! Lance, Liza, Lane, come on!”

“Father!” A little blonde girl trotted up to him, squeezing around his waist tightly. “You are late. At least that’s what Momma says.” She giggled when he scooped her up.

“Really, is that what your mother thinks? Then we shall have to show her that I am not as late as she thinks I am!” He tossed her over his shoulder, much to her delight.

As I watched the joyous display, I exhaled deeply, thinking of Papa.

“This, my little Lane, is your cousin, Jenny.” He righted her on the ground.

I bent down to her level to shake her hand. “Hello, Lane.” I nearly fell back as she wrapped me in a tight hug. Once I understood the gesture, I awkwardly patted her back.

“I like you.” She stated in a squeal. “Is he a cousin too?” She stared at Armadillo.

He shook his head. “We are only traveling together.” His eyes widened when Lane clamped onto his legs. “Er, hello, I’m Armadillo, Dill if you like,” He tapped her head in a signal of kindness and acceptance. “Could you release my breeches?”

She giggled, “He says britches funny. You’re tall.” Lane clung to his trousers even tighter than before. “I like you too. I don’t want you to leave ever.” She grinned.

My eyes met Dill’s; his were wide with terror at her instant affection. “I would wish it too, but we must be off in the morning for Eirodin.” I pried her from Dill’s legs.

“Evan, everyone else is already out b- who is this?” A woman with all shades of blonde streaming through her curls asked. Her hazel eyes were intent on me.

“Jane, this is Jenny, Eric’s daughter,” He introduced me. “And her friend, Dill.”

His words provoked an immediate embrace. “I’ve heard so much about you. Of course, you’ve grown a bit since those stories, little Jenny who taught herself to read and write, Jenny this, Jenny that. How wonderful to put a face to a name! Come on out back! We are just starting supper. I am sure you two are hungry. And Evan, well he always is. You can call me Aunt Jane! You can too, Dill.” By my wrist, she dragged me out to a concealed back porch to a table loaded with people and all sorts of foods. “This is Eric’s daughter!” She announced excitedly. Her words triggered stillness in the air. Silence.

Suddenly, all at once, everyone sprang up, screaming. They introduced themselves one at a time and carefully explained their relation to me. All of the names jumbled in my head, made no better by the fact that my father had five siblings who had spouses and children. With every new name and face, I nodded understandingly, but forgot each very quickly. Overwhelmed, I clutched at my head. My face heated.

“Give her a little breathing room. Let us all just sit and enjoy good family and good food.” Uncle Evan came to my aid, patting my shoulder, and shooing them all.

Returning to their seats, they all still stared at me expectantly and happily like I was not clumsy or a b*****d, a look of unprejudiced and immediate love. Most of them gestured to empty seats that had been pulled out for Dill and me; we sat confused more than anything else. The overpowering chatter from earlier had returned.

I ate quietly, hoping to get in one decent meal before we reached the capital city.

On the contrary, Armadillo chatted easily with everyone about his wilderness excursion, his ambitions to research the Old Era, among politics. Though, my grandfather and Uncle Evan recognized the name Green from Dill’s father’s misdeeds, they held nothing against him; my grandfather even called him, “A fine young man.”

My grandfather troubled me. He had not spoken to me since he discovered whom I was, only grunted or scolded. When everyone dispersed at the meal’s conclusion, he lingered. As I straggled out, he caught my arm. “So, you are Eric’s daughter. You are so quiet.” He held my chin up. “Genevieve. It figures he would pick that name. He adored his mother. Upon her death, no one cried harder than he. He blamed me for her death. The boy had only a dozen years, I understand his reasons.” He paused to breathe deeply.

I remained silent, but kept his gaze. To me, his steel eyes appeared softer, gentle.

“He was so bright, not only a brilliant cobbler, but his woodwork! It is spectacular. I wish he had pursued that. I wish he had not run away. I only wanted him to take my business. Is it so wrong? I wanted my store to be his. Share my dream with him.”

My voice was soft. “He did not want your dream. He wanted his own. He has tried to duplicate your choices with me, but I did not run away. He sent me off to find my mother, but I am starting to realize that I may already have one,” I mused thoughtfully.

“So Eric has married then?” His eyebrows rose, surprise in the glint of his eye.

My head shook. “No, not yet. She is a professor and they were…very close when I departed. I fear that they will already be married when I return.” We shared a wry smile.

Sadly, he nodded to me. “You have your grandmother’s chin, Genevieve. If you write to your father…say hello from me. Apologize for my actions, my words. Tell him that I would like to see him if he would ever like to see me. Tell him that his father loves him and always has. There is a post in the center. I am sure you may write him from there. Goodnight, Genevieve.” He did not embrace me. His words were warm enough.

I stayed outside and stepped off the porch to enjoy the peaceful lull of nature.

Hidden amongst the tall grasses, crickets chirped. Owls whined into the night sky in their desperate hunt for scurrying rodents so far beneath them. Even bats whizzed by.

Scrunching my eyes, farther out was an unnatural form. I had mistaken it for a small tree in its height, but it was the figure of a cloaked spindly man. “Sleepwalker.”

Author's Note

I guess the theme of these two chapters was families... I wanted to take the time to mend the relationship between Jenny's father and her grandfather. Oh, and it occurred to me that Eirodin is pronounced, 'Air-oh-din (with a sound like 'in'). Thought I'd share. So okay, enjoy. Thanks for reading.