But the woman had her pride. She never complained or asked him to return...
She always asked, instead, that he bring her gems. No big deal.
But he never came back with anything since the end of the war. He was always in the military. He only came home on leave, now and then. The woman could always say, "I hope you'll bring me a gem one day."
And her husband would always say, "Hope is a lonely job."
The woman was never rude. She always smiled and thanked him for his efforts.
But she had to continue to ask, "Why can't you just bring me one?"
He never answered.
The child sensed something coming.
The child sensed somebody close.
The child sensed danger in the form of the enemy or perhaps an intruder or maybe even a rival for the woman's love.
The woman sensed something was about to explode.
"I think you should go outside – " she began.
The child interrupted, "I have a bad feeling about this."
But the woman knew her fear was misplaced.
And once a woman truly knows she is making the best choice, she always remains convinced of that.
The house was close to the wall, on the edge of town. The house had a large backyard. The yard was covered in a thick canopy of trees. Animals and birds roamed at will. The backyard was secluded, save for the farm wall that separated it from an adjacent property. The wall was quite attractive, though most of it was made of large, jagged stones. The stones had been stacked upon each other without any mortar or cement. Their individual edges were rough and uneven.
The only part that was different was the round archway that opened into the well. And in the summer, the woman kept a bucket of water next to it to keep the algae away. The wall was large, but not too high. It was only a few inches taller than the woman. It was dotted with many small holes and cracks.
"I hope you'll bring me a gem one day," the woman always said when he was off on another assignment. But the rain and the uncomfortable summer heat would always thwart her hopes.
The woman was so kind, so caring. She'd had enough of being housebound. She needed to get out and about. She had missedpoke a little with him about it. But she never complained. She knew he would appreciate the back and forth banter, the simple conversation that would never get her not pregnant or not married or not considered a good mother. She knew he would laugh. She knew he would like to see her smile. As long as he didn't get angry, he would let the walls down and laugh with her.
But it still wasn't enough. She longed for him. She needed him to be more of a part of their lives than the small piece of life he supplied to them. And she wanted him to bring her a gift. Something that was special. Something that meant he had been thinking of her.
Was it too much to want?
"I'm going outside," the child said.
But the child sensed the woman wouldn't let her.
The child sensed uncertainty in the woman's face.
"I think you should go outside – " the woman began again. This time, the child's perceptions were right.
The woman was holding the locket in her palm. In the past, she had watched her husband put it on her body when he knew she was going to be out of the house. The locket was shaped like a tiny key. They called it a locket. It was heirloom. The woman's mother had given it to her mother, who had given it to her, and so on.
The locket was unmistakably beautiful. The silvery glint of glass sparkled under the sun. The woman had always appreciated that the locket was a gift from her mother. "Your mother must be a good woman," she told her husband. And her husband had smiled and nodded.
"Please take care. I have a bad feeling about this."
The child sensed something was terribly wrong. Their future was on the line.
But the woman couldn't share her concern with her child. She couldn't show her child that she was afraid too. And that was where her bravery came from. She didn't want the child to get panicked. She didn't want the child to be scared of what might happen later.
She walked back to the house. The doors were closed. The woman casually picked up her broom and continued to sweep the porch.
The woman knew the enemy was inside. And the only way to escape them was by staying outside. There was no other way. There was no running back inside and hiding in the house. They'd both be trapped. If she went back in, all was lost.
And she wouldn't be able to leave. The door was too far away to run.
She looked down at the damp, wet street. There was no escape. In the center, a flock of birds had taken up residence in a tree. Their song was loud and clear.
"Pretty birds – pretty birds," the woman chanted. She sent up a silent prayer. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die now. She was terrified of what would happen if she didn't stay outside. She was terrified of the thought of dying. And she was afraid of leaving her child alone, even for a second.
"I had a bad feeling about this."
There was no telling what would happen.
But something was coming. Or someone.
And the woman knew that the enemy was after her. What would be the point of invading someone's home and then not resorting to violence? What would be the point of hurting someone's child? They all knew the answer to that.
