Chapter 30

We were setting up for the wedding. Cynthia had made herself scarce in the past weeks, so I hadn’t had much opportunity to talk to her. But today, she was helping with getting everything arranged, and seemed to be making a special effort to be nice. She complimented me on my dress, and Comfort on her hairstyle. It seemed a little forced, but I was appreciative of the gesture nonetheless.

Mother and Algernon’s wedding was to take place at the top of a hill slightly beyond our garden. As all of us girls lifted our skirts to climb the long flight of stone steps, I caught a glimpse of Cynthia’s shoe.

“Your feet are tiny,” I exclaimed. “My goodness!”

Her shoes looked like children’s shoes, so dainty and petite. Just like the rest of her.

“Dad always told me that it was good for a girl to have tiny feet, so no one would step on her toes while dancing, no matter how clumsy her partner was.”

I thought of all the times Curtis had stepped on my feet and felt a little embarrassed by my large, manly feet. Cynthia didn’t need to know about that. I dropped my skirts to conceal my own foot size.

Just as Mother had said she wanted, the wedding was a quiet, simple ceremony. The priest came to marry Mother and Algernon in our garden, which we had all decorated for the few guests who attended.

The priest gave a short speech about love and unity and until death do they part, and they were pronounced husband and wife. Having never been to a wedding before, I had imagined it would be hours of speeches and a lengthy ceremony. But no, a simple ring exchange was all. I applauded with everyone else.

I mingled with the guests that were milling around after the wedding. There weren’t many. Algernon and Cynthia didn’t have any remaining family, but did have a few friends that showed up. One lady was ancient, with powder white hair and wrinkles upon wrinkles. Upon introducing myself, I found out that she used to watch Algernon when he was small.

“What was he like as a boy?” I asked.

“Oh, he was an adventurous lad,” reminisced the elderly woman in a voice that creaked as much as her bones did, “Always into something, he was, and I was forever turning frogs and snakes out of his pockets.”

I laughed, imagining a young sandy-haired boy running around with a toad peeping out of his pocket, bouncing along as the boy raced home.

“And tell me dear, how long since your father passed away?”

“A little more than a year,” I told her.

She peered into my face intently. “You miss him very much, don’t you?”

“Very much.”

She kept looking into my face with soul-searching eyes. Ancient eyes that held the wisdom of decades. “Well, you live in a way that would make him proud, won’t you?”

I thought. I knew Comfort and Mother had said before that we should live in the way Father wanted. But would Father be proud of the way I was living? All the time I was spending closeted in my room, hiding away from the world…he wouldn’t want that for me. Nor did I want that for myself.

I looked back at the old woman. “I will, ma’am, thank you.”

I left the conversation resolved; I didn’t want to be bitter anymore. I didn’t want to hide anymore. What was I accomplishing by closing myself off and not living my life? Nothing. I was only hurting myself. Of course there would be times that someone would laugh at my face, but that was their problem, not mine. I thought of all the times Mother and Comfort had said that it was who you were that mattered, much more than what someone looked like.

Mother and Algernon were getting ready to run to their carriage for a honeymoon trip. I handed out bags of white rice to throw at them, and we showered them in rice as they ran to a white carriage. “Goodbye! Goodbye!” we all called. They waved from the window, and the carriage jolted into motion.

Mother and Algernon were to be gone for a week. After the wedding guests left, Comfort and Cynthia and I tidied up, cleaned up the decorations, stored chairs, and ate all the leftover cake. At one point, Comfort and I were alone, stacking the tables and chairs into a storage room.

“Comfort?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“You told me before that it doesn’t matter what people look like.”

“Right.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Sure I do!” she said. “There are tons of examples of why that is true.”

“Like what?”

Comfort thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Do you remember Bernard?”

I thought. Bernard? Then memories flooded into my mind. “The bard’s apprentice?”

“Yes! Him! What do you remember about him?”

I thought back fondly to the days before the bard had been dismissed. His apprentice, Bernard the Bard, as we always called him, was hilarious. “He was really funny. He knew just how to compliment everyone to make them feel good about themselves. He knew more jokes than anyone, even Curtis or Father.”

“Right. What did he look like?”

I strained my memory. He had had a large nose, ears that stuck out perpendicular to his head, very crooked teeth, and several unfortunately sized and prominent warts. I didn’t want to say those things. “Well, he was short, had dark hair, was skinny…”

“He wasn’t very handsome,” Comfort amended for me. “Was he?”

I shook my head.

“Now, who would you rather have had for a friend, Bernard or Hubert?”

“Bernard, of course.”

“Why? He is much uglier than Hubert.”

That was true. For the first time since the attack, I began to see what Comfort had meant. She continued, “Hubert is very handsome. Tall, muscular, nice hair and teeth, all those sorts of things. But he had almost no friends because he is a tedious and self-absorbed bore.”

“Well, don’t say what you really think,” I teased her.

“But really! Even though Hubert is very handsome, people can’t stand him after talking to him for a few minutes. But Bernard—”

“Bernard the Bard,” I grinned.

“Yes. Everyone loved him, and once you got to know him, you really never thought about what he looks like. He is just…Bernard. It doesn’t matter what someone looks like; it matters who they are.”

That night, I went to bed determined to turn over a new leaf. No longer would I hide away from the world, but would embrace it. I wanted to live my life in a way that would make Father proud.