Summer Sun's Arc

Chapter 10 of 15

Matilda woke to a clean stovepipe and a warm room. She sat up on the floor where she had fallen asleep. The fire was still burning. Someone had banked it before they left. She stared at the neat pile of split wood by the grate. She had not split that wood. Angela had. Matilda knew the way Angela stacked things, small pieces on the outside, big ones in the middle. She stood up and walked to the door. She opened it and looked at the snow on her step. There were three sets of boot prints going away. She had not said thank you. She had not said anything. She had said, "I didn't ask," and let them walk out into the cold. The anger came, but not at Summer Sun this time. Not at Angela. Not at Tracie. At herself. It sat in her chest like a hot stone and would not move. Matilda shut the door. She went to the chest under the window and opened it. Inside was a knitted scarf she had made two winters ago and never worn. Red and blue and pink, with frayed ends where she had cut the yarn wrong. She had meant it for someone once and then forgotten who. She pulled it out and laid it on the table. Then she took down two more balls of wool and her needles. She sat by the fire and began to knit. She worked all morning. Her fingers were stiff and she dropped stitches and picked them back up. She made a second scarf, shorter, in orange and yellow. She made a third in green. When the light through the window turned pale, she wrapped all three scarves in a piece of brown cloth and tied it with string. She did not write a note. She could not think of the right words, and any wrong words would make it worse. She walked to the barn in the snow. She left the bundle on the step. She knocked once, hard, and turned and walked back down the path before the door could open. She did not look behind her. She heard the door open. She heard Angela's voice, then Tracie's, then Summer Sun's. She heard Summer Sun laugh, short and surprised. Matilda kept walking. Her chest hurt less with every step, but only a little. Back at her cottage, Matilda sat down at the table. The fire was still warm. The stone in her chest had shrunk. It had not gone. She thought about what Angela stacked and how Summer Sun had said "move" softer the second time. She did not know what to do with any of it. She picked up the needles again and started a fourth scarf. This one she meant to keep.