Page 7 of Once Upon a Woven Wish
He wheezed again, trying to draw in a breath.His eyes cracked open as he looked at her and smiled.
“You were eight.Maris was four.Your mother wove flower crowns for festival day for both of you.Flowers from her garden.You wore pink.Maris wore yellow.Dresses your mother made.”
His eyes fluttered closed, as though speaking was an effort.He grew quiet then, falling asleep at last.
As he did, Serena searched her memory for the flower crowns and the garden and the festival he talked so fondly of.She had no memory of it, as though there was nothing but a black void there.
While he slept, she rose from the chair and crept from the room.She hurried to the one she shared with her sister, her steps light on the wood floor.
Maris slept, curled on her side.Serena stood there for a long moment, unsure what she was searching for.
Her gaze swept the room.Her sister’s boots, the cracked windowpane, the faded ribbon tied to the bedpost.Familiar things.
But something inside her had shifted.The well had taken something.Left a hole she couldn't fill.She clenched her fists at her sides.One wish.One family saved.
How many more would it take before she forgot who she was?
Chapter 3
Theafternoonwaned.Herfather’s condition worsened.He was in pain as he coughed up blood.
Serena sat beside him, her gut clenched with worry.Her sister paced the short length of the cabin outside his bedroom door.Her footsteps shuffled in a rhythmic way that started to grate on Serena’s nerves.But Maris did not know how to deal with this sort of thing.She was never good with the sick or the injured.She preferred to hide and let Serena deal with it.
When their mother died, she did the same.
Serena had always been the strong one.The one to see after everyone.The one to take care of Maris and her father.She worked the herb garden.She hunted for pelts to trade.She baked the bread and did everything she could to keep food on the table.
And now she had made a sacrifice to keep them in their home.She’d paid the taxman.She’d helped the others in the village.
But now that the end was near for her father, a sense of helplessness shifted through her.He was so sick, and he was dying.There had to be something she could do.
Therewassomething she could do.
Her body stilled as she sat up ramrod straight in the chair, her hands clasped in her lap as the thought shifted through her mind.Dare she?Should she?Could she?
She had to.It was the only way to save him.
She shoved up from the chair.Her father coughed again.She held the kerchief to his mouth.It came away speckled with blood, sending a stabbing pain right to her heart.She was unwilling to lose her father, too.
She reached for the cup of water on the side table and helped him take a sip.
“You’re going to be all right, Papa,” she murmured.
His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned back into the pillows, as though it were an effort.He released a shuddering breath between his dry, cracked lips.
She hated seeing him this way.She leaned down, kissed his forehead.One last look at him and then she turned away.Maris stopped her incessant pacing as Serena barreled out of the room and grabbed her cloak off the hook by the door.
“Where are you going?”Panic laced her sister’s voice.
“To fetch the doctor,” she lied.“I’ll be back.Watch over him.”
A choked sob escaped her.“Serena, I can’t—” Her breath hitched, her voice rising in dread.
She turned to her and gripped her by the arms, giving her a little shake.“You can.Stay here with him.He needs you.Do not leave his side.Do you promise?”
Maris chewed on her lower lip.Her glassy eyes were wide and shimmery.
“Promise?”Serena demanded.
