Page 172 of Phoenix's Fire

"I just..." I huffed. "Yes, ma'am. I'm just glad to be helping."

"That's not what you were going to say," she pointed out as she found a chair in the mess and pulled it out to sit before me. "What's going on? Why did you really come over, Meri?"

"Because I'm tired of being in the way," I whined. "And now I'm in the way again, making you do all of this while I get to play. And everyone keeps telling me to be careful, and to worry about the baby, and I just..." I shrugged. "I dunno. I want to be useful."

"You are useful," she assured me. "I need those things sewn. I need to finish the orders, and you pay attention to the stitches, fixing it when the threads twist or have a gap. You don't just hurry through it. You make it the way I would."

I nodded. "So it will last."

"So it looks beautiful," she corrected. "And the only reason I'm not asking you to help me organize this is because you're so close to having that baby."

"I know," I grumbled.

"Aren't you happy about it?"

All I could do was shrug. "I should be."

"But?" she pressed.

I leaned my head back and groaned. "I wasn't supposed to be stopping you, Lessa. I'm sorry."

"And you are clearly avoiding something," she told me. "Meri, we're friends, right?"

"Are we?" I asked. "Or are you just being nice the way everyone else is?"

"Ah," she said, nodding to show she understood. "You think everyone helping you is doing it because they have to, hm? That we can't be doing this both because you need it and because we actually care enough to want to help?"

"But why?" I asked. "Why would you do so much for me when I can't do anything back? I don’t know how to cook all of your foods. I don't know how to use a bow or a weapon. I'm not allowed to lift anything heavy, and I can't heal like Ayla does. I'm scared of her dog, and I'm not a warrior, and the only reason I'm here is because I'm her friend, and it's just not right!"

"Right?" Lessa asked, picking up on that word. "Why?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It just doesn't feel right."

She nodded slowly. "I think you mean fair. It doesn't feel fair to you, because you think you have to do something first, hm?"

"But... Don't I?"

"Nope." She reached up to cup the back of my head. "You are a beautiful young lady who showed up here in need. I can't even imagine how terrifying pregnancy is, so all I can do is try to help. That you like clothing this much? Knowing I finallyhave someone who actually enjoys sitting around and talking with me about whether linen or cotton would work better in a design?"

"Ayla sews better than me, you should ask her."

Lessa scoffed. "Ayla isn't my friend. You are."

"But you knew her first," I countered. "And everyone likes Ayla. She's brave and bold and willing to try anything."

Lessa shrugged that off. "So?"

"But she's better than me!" I said.

"How so?"

"All my life, I've tried so hard to do everything right, and she was always better. Ayla didn't even like sewing, but she learned so she could work in the infirmary. Her stitches are so small and perfectly spaced - and she doesn't even try! She knew how to help people, and that made it okay for her to break the rules. She snuck into the library, she refused to let men court her, and she..."

"She what?" Lessa asked, calmly smoothing my hair back.

"She's the one everyone likes," I mumbled, knowing I was pouting but unable to stop myself. "It's just not fair, Lessa. When she comes around, people are so happy to see her. I mean, she was always such a disobedient girl, and she didn'tcarethat she got in trouble. I tried to be good. I wanted to do it right. I thought that if I was the pious and proper lady, then maybe I could finally get what I wanted, and then Gideon asked me to marry him."

"The baby's father?" she asked.

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