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Chapter four

Pineo

I’m out of breath when we close and lock Clara’s cottage door behind us. I rest against the wooden wall. The chatter from the townsfolk dampens, but there’s no mistaking that they’re still outside. “Is it always like that when you go into town?” I say, out of breath.

“No,” she spats, walking away from me and charging toward the kitchen. I can’t see her face, but I’ve studied her all my life. I know she’s upset. “What is wrong?” I ask, trailing after her.

She averts her eyes from me, opens a cabinet, and sticks her head in, pretending to rummage around for something. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just hungry. ”

Someone knocks, and I whip around to the people crowding the window, cupping their eyes to peer in at us.

I rush to draw the blinds. “Maker, these people are wild!” I lean against the green fabric, my hand over my beating heart.

Clara never returned home with a crowd like this.

I look different, but I wouldn't have imagined so many people would be interested in me.

Clara whimpers, and I abandon my post and rush toward her. She darts from the cabinet before I reach her, and rushes down the hall toward her bedroom.

“Clara, where are you going?”

She shuts the door behind her but calls out to me, “I’m just tired from the day. I think I need to take a nap.”

I jingle the doorknob. It’s locked. “Can I take a nap with you?” I sound like a child.

“No, I just need to be alone.” She tries to hide her whimpers, but it’s obvious that she’s crying.

What can I do? Should I break the door down and demand she tell me what’s wrong?

That doesn’t seem like something she’d like.

She’s always lived a calm and quiet life—without loud proclamations or confrontations.

Maybe the crowd of people are too much for her.

My wooden heart races as my mind whirls with possibilities.

Maybe my appearance embarrassed her in front of her peers.

People seemed to like me and wanted to know about me, but maybe they weren’t sincere.

Perhaps she doesn’t like the attention I’m bringing, and she’s realizing there is no chance of a life with me.

A sob from Clara’s room tugs at my chest. I can’t bear to be the cause of her pain.

All those lonely nights when she mourned for her father or begged the stars to end her loneliness, I wished I could soothe her.

But now, here I am, capable of wrapping my arms around her and whispering soothing words, and I’m only rubbing dirt into her wounds.

I’m the cause of her pain. Maybe she would be better off without me.

I turn away from the door, sitting on a chair by the unlit fireplace. I won’t leave without a goodbye, but leaving could be the only way to give the girl I love most, the happiness she deserves.