Give Them Wineby Mary Brunini McArdleBook I
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General Synopsis |
| Chapter 14 |
In the mid-22nd century, a mysterious apocalyptic event has destroyed the world as we know it. In the Mississippi delta country, survivors reorganize in isolated enclaves and live in primitive conditions with little knowledge of their own history.
Donas, a beautiful, bright, curious girl on the verge of womanhood, discovers that her community is hiding a terrible secret: drug-induced conformity. She flees, taking her younger brother Mak and sister Rani with her. They make their way south and find a new life with a new people. They find hope, love and maybe some trace of their own past that might point the way to the future.
The following day Lionel kissed Donas soundly on the way to breakfast. She felt a lightening in her chest and ate with a ferocious appetite, the taste of the food mingling with the taste of Lionel on her lips.
She turned to him when she had finished. “I would like to begin learning to work in the fields today, Lionel.”
“All right, but you’ll need an escort. I’ll take you and make certain someone brings you home.”
“Will Rani be too much trouble?” Donas asked.
“Rani is just what Sewella needs right now. She adores children. I sometimes wonder if she made a mistake becoming Seamstress instead of Teacher. Meet me at the stable; I’ll have Windflower ready.”
Fair weather clouds dotted a sky burning with the blue dizziness of summer. Lionel and Donas rode out from the City, past the burial site, which she refused to look at, thinking that if she did, the light feeling in her chest would leave. She didn’t mind the heat; after the somber mood of the last few days, the outdoors was refreshing.
“I like this,” she said, pulling on the bonnet Barrett had given her before she departed for the stable. Donas had never had a bonnet before — Barrett had insisted. “All our workers wear these outside in the fields during the summer. They protect you from the sun.”
Donas’s bonnet was of heavy white cloth, with a brim, and two thin pieces of lavender cloth that tied under her chin. Her chestnut curls poked out in unruly tangles; the white and lavender highlighted her brown eyes.
Lionel smiled. “I like it too. You’re more beautiful in a bonnet than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Donas laughed, the light feeling in her chest expanding. “Oh, Lionel — look! How pretty!”
She pointed ahead, where the two of them could see a number of cultivated plots, each with workers wearing bonnets. So much color! Some of the bonnets were tied with lavender, some with rose, some with brown, some with gold. The workers were scattered among bright red tomatoes or green peppers or knee-high plants of glossy green with funny long things hanging off them. In the distance lay a huge orchard with overgrown trees and a smaller orchard next to it.
“What kind of plants are those, Lionel? Are they the ones that grow cloth? And what kind of trees are those?”
“Wait! So many questions! First of all, Donas, the plants don’t grow cloth — they grow the product from which the cloth is made. Didn’t I tell you that once before? And no, those green plants will produce corn. The big trees are pecan and walnut and the little ones are fig trees. We have more, too — melon patches and blackfruit and butterpeas—”
“But the cloth plants—”
“We’ll get there, Donas. The cotton fields are the farthest from the City.”
“What about berries?”
“We go into the forest; never do that alone. We always send at least three or four armed men.”
“Because of the Lonely People?”
“Yes, and the wild animals. You mustn’t ride to the cotton fields alone, either. We had several women killed before we realized they required escorts.”
“Lionel — have you ever had to fight the Lonely People?”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“I killed them both.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes, although the others would have finished it if I had needed them.”
‘He must be strong’, Donas thought. ‘I would have liked to see him fight.’ Suddenly her face felt very warm.
“It’s hot,” she said, hoping Lionel wouldn’t notice her flushing.
“Look over there, Donas.”
She hadn’t realized how far they had come. Ahead was an enormous field, covered with plants about three feet high. Nearby a small building of gray stone displayed large square openings.
“Lionel, what is that building?”
“For the workers to go inside and rest in the shade every now and then. We keep extra water there also.”
‘He did not hesitate to answer me about that building,’ Donas thought. ‘Nor did he forbid me access.’
She rubbed her forehead. ‘Oh, be quiet,’ she told herself. ‘Don’t spoil your first time with the plants that are for the cloth. I am glad Lionel’s people do not cultivate rosebushes, though. Even if parts of them are edible.’
“Lionel,” she said, “I understand why you carry your weapons when you leave the City’s walls. But why do the Guards at that Hall hold weapons like that? Surely no one in the City would attack their own people.”
“Those weapons aren’t necessary, Donas. They are simply a tradition of honor.”
‘Honor?’ Donas thought. ‘I don’t know what “honor” means.’ Just then Windflower shied at something and danced several feet to the side. Lionel quickly maneuvered his mount over to Donas and reached out to steady her mare. By then Donas had forgotten to ask him about the word.
One of the workers came out to greet the new arrivals. “Lionel, let me have Windflower. We’ll show Donas what we’re doing and I’ll bring her home.”
“Worth will take good care of you, Donas. I’ll see you for supper.”
Donas was brought home well before dark, dirty but excited about her work in the fields. Rani was sitting by the door waiting. “Donas, Donas! You’re back! Was it good? Lionel and his father are having a ‘talk’ about something important, and Barrett is in the kitchen. Look what Sewella made for me.”
Rani beamed and whirled around. She was wearing clothes similar in style to her own: short-legged pajamas with a shirt cut to the waist — but of new cloth, in the soft golden shade Lionel often wore. Her plaits were tied with matching pieces. Her dark blonde hair was freshly washed and her large brown eyes reflected flecks of gold light.
“Aren’t I pretty, Donas? Sewella wanted to practice her seamstressing.”
“You look very pretty, Rani. That was lovely of Sewella. Did you thank her?”
“Oh, yes. And I helped her clean the house.”
Sewella stood watching the little scene and smiling. The sadness was still in her eyes, and more — a look of intense longing. ‘She doesn’t want to be a Teacher,’ Donas thought. ‘She wants children of her own. A husband, like Alfreda, and children. I’m glad Rani’s so fond of her.’
“Sewella, you’ve made Rani very happy with the new clothes,” Donas said. “How do your people make the cloth so many colors?”
“We use natural dyes — plants for yellows and yellow-greens; berries for violets and purples and light crimsons; walnuts for dark greens or gold greens and browns — and some cloth we don’t dye at all, but leave pure white.”
“Where we came from, we didn’t make anything new — except food and beverages. We used old things over and over — parts of buildings, and whatever we could find to hold them together, and all sorts of tools the motele had had just about forever.”
Thoughtfully Donas turned to her little sister. “I think I should bathe before supper, Rani. Then I’ll look pretty too.”
Donas went to their room for clean clothes and a piece of the new soap Nakoma had given her. She then proceeded to the bathing room with the slatted floor, where she found plenty of water ready.
Engrossed in her ritual, she did not notice the two male figures passing by, talking. One of them glanced her way and stopped. The outline of her youthful body could be seen through the woven hangings. She reached out with a slim arm and pulled a jug of water off the shelf, lifting it over her head. The rivulets of water running over her hair and down the length of her legs. She raised each foot delicately, one after the other, and shook them. When she replaced the water jug, she leaned slightly — the curve of her shoulder displaying the pointed breast beneath to its full perfection.
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, Father—”
“No, Lionel — not yet.” The second male’s low voice had an admonishing tone. “I know she is beautiful. But you will have the right in good time. And don’t be so eager to change your status forever. Besides...” Sebastian’s voice trailed off for a moment. Then he said softly to himself, “There is pain in wedded life as well as joy, sometimes years of it.”
Lionel heard what his father was saying, but the thought of Donas seemed to leave room only for joy. The two men continued past the bathing room in silence.
Donas finished and dressed herself. When the family met for the evening meal, Sebastian was quiet and thoughtful, Lionel flushed and agitated.
Donas put her observations aside in favor of telling the events of her day. “We weeded, and I learned how to tell what plants were not to be pulled. The others told me the blooms would not come for a while yet, but the plants will quickly grow taller. I believe I like this work.”
“There is no reason why you should not continue it,” Barrett said. “You can go alternate days to the fields; that will give you plenty of time with your sister. Before the cotton blooms, I will have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? For me? What?”
“Wait and see. How else can it be a surprise?”
Rani giggled.
“I like my work too, Donas,” Mak said proudly.
Sebastian roused himself from his reflection. “And you’re doing quite well at it, I must admit. You will be a fine Horseman someday.”
A kiss, a day in the fields, a bath, good food, light table banter — Donas forgot all about her nightmare.
For the moment.
To be continued...
Copyright © 2011 by Mary Brunini McArdle
