Into the Goodnight Ch. 03

At the end of the meal, at which time she admitted the fish wasn't as awful as she had feared, he asked after her day. When he saw her soft, sardonic smile he prodded. She sighed pleasantly and detailed how her dreary morning had picked up when the little boy asked for help in recovering the pig. She was animated, her arms spreading out, her face joyous and surprised as she related how the two, who clearly had no business wrangling a colossal pig, did just that. Aurelia rubbed the back of her head before tenderly prodding her hip, saying how sore both points were from her collision with the beast. Now that she truly paid it mind, most of her body was at least a little wrung feeling.

She admitted to having been caught in the rain, running in public to shelter. And she told of the butcher's, the sort of place she'd never before been, the macabre feel with the hanging halves of sheep and cows and pigs and her gut-queasy response to the sight and smells.

"And then I walked home—in the rain. I've never done that before—when Hilma stopped me. And before I could make an excuse I was sitting in front of her fire drinking some sort of concoction."

"Sounds like quite a full day."

She nodded, looking over the crumbs on her plate, thoughts springing to mind. "There...there was a lady I saw at the butcher. Hilma says she's ninety-four," she attempted with some mild surprise, inexperienced with which emotions should accompany her new thoughts. She was quiet a moment as she tried to corral her thoughts and put them into words. And when Aurelia did speak, her words were slow, gathered in phrases like little small groups of flowers clumped for an eventually larger bouquet.

"She's no one to take care of her. No husband, no children. She has only a pittance of a stipend from the church. I saw her at the butcher's wanting to buy some meat. But what he had available was too expensive and too poor quality for her. Hilma says it is rather difficult for the widows to buy decent meat. They often go without."

Maks was quiet, but not unresponsive. He nodded and looked at her in a way maybe no one ever had. He was listening to her, valuing her words. She blushed, her thoughts, what small fledging things they had been, fading from her head.

"Unfortunately, I doubt this woman you saw is the only one of her kind."

Aurelia's mind blinked. "I think you're right. Hilma has more than once hinted there wasn't enough money for her to buy food for herself, meat especially." Her full stomach was beginning to feel like a burden. She pursed her pretty lips together. "Is there nothing that can be done? What about this king of yours, then?" she accused in afterthought, her old rival lurking in the shadowy trees. "Why doesn't he do something?"

"He is working on it, but one cannot turn a ship around on a silver crown. It takes time for change to reach every citizen. He has begun by first making the people safe, securing our borders and then opening trade routes. With the thriving markets, the king hopes to engender a feeling of generosity and compassion toward those who cannot fend for themselves. These woes after all, while significant to the widows, are not necessarily problems to be solved by the crown, but effected by the citizens."

"The citizens?"

Maks nodded. "Neighbors helping neighbors, in what way they can."

"But there are so many in need."

"Then it may take a dedicated few with vision, but the solution is not beyond the mere reach of kindness."

That night, Aurelia's battered body was too abused for much more than ginger, loving caresses as sweet, subdued kisses. But as they lay facing each other in the quiet hour, he traced one of her eyebrows as he murmured to her.

"You are a very kind woman. Underneath all that ice, your heart is very sweet." Embarrassment seized her up, causing her to shrink and tighten. But Maks ignored her discomfort. "Your curiosity for the widows is evidence enough of that. You merely require an opportunity to act." He cupped her jaw and leaned forward to place a warm kiss to the delicate bone above an eye. With a great sigh of contentment, he rolled over onto his side, turning her in his arms to nestle her in the safety of his embrace.

" For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone."

-Sam Levenson

The downpour of the previous day seemed to only be the start of a very long, dreary week in which clouds after clouds rolled in from the ocean, bringing a seeming eternity of rain. Aurelia spent her days recovering from the brawl with the pig, Hilma stopping by twice to see her. But the extended time spent cooped up inside served a purpose; Aurelia grew restless. And not just for freed escape, or even to see others' faces, homely and commonly as they may have been, but to dosomething. Since their discussion the night she'd told him of the widows and his subsequent praise that she was kind for thinking of them, Aurelia could not seem to stop thinking of them. And that something must be done.

On the seventh day, the clouds broke for the first time, a shy little blue elbowing through the dissipating gray puffs. Aurelia paced in front of the open windows like a caged cat, waiting with impatience nearing mania for the moment it let up. And the very second the last rain drop hit the ground, she had her shawl around her and was out the door for Hilma's, swiping the coin purse as she went.

She knocked quickly, loudly on Hilma's door. And when she didn't answer immediately, Aurelia knocked again, the door swinging open to stop her frantic pounding.

"I have an idea," Aurelia said in way of greeting. Hilma stepped aside, allowing the eager young woman in. "We should start a collective," she stated enthusiastically, as if that were all the explanation the crone would need.

"A what, dear?"

"You know, all the little widows of the neighborhood could pool their monies and go in together. They could buy a large portion of a very nice meat and then it could be divvied up. Perhaps if we promise to purchase very regularly, we could even have a discount. That way, the widows would have a greater ability to buy the meat of their choosing and at a lesser cost. And since it would be shared among them all, nothing would be wasted." Her hands were held out as if nothing could be simpler, her face bright and excited. "Well, what do you think?" she prodded when Hilma said nothing.

The old woman was a little slow in thinking the whole process through, but she saw the cleverness of the idea and began to slowly nod her head. "Yes, that is a fine idea. Though..."

"Yes?"

"Sometimes the problem isn't just affording the meat. Sometimes it's the labor involved in cooking a meal. Take Grazie you saw yesterday. Even if she had money to spend on her choice piece, by the time she buys it and brings it home, she's still to prepare it. And that can take time. Energy we old ladies don't always have," Hilma chuckled, acknowledging she too was often too fatigued to prepare a large meal that would make use of the good selection of lamb or pork.

"Hm," Aurelia pondered, realizing the operation was becoming a little larger than she had initially anticipated, but she knew she would have to adjust her scheme accordingly. "Then it's not just about affording the meat, but the problem is about actually having a nutritious meal? Well, then why not a step further. Perhaps a neighborhood kitchen. We find someone who can take the meat and prepare the meal and then serve it. Then everyone will have at least one hardy meal a day. And if some are unable to even come to the kitchen, perhaps it could be delivered to them." Aurelia's brows creased. "But where to find such a place? Or someone to do all that cooking?"

"We'll start with the butcher; all the rest can follow in time," Hilma directed.

Within minutes, the two were marching over the wet cobblestone to the butcher's shop, Hilma leading the way with Aurelia in tow. He was not visible when they entered the little shop, but the visceral sound of a heavy blade whacking through flesh and bone could be heard, escaping from the hidden back.

"Olin!" Hilma called out, and when the noise didn't stop she tried again. There was silence, then heavy feet and breathing.

"Oh, it's you Hilma. Come for something?" he asked, slow to notice Aurelia. "Oh, I see you've brought the pretty young lady with you," he commented, looking her once over, clearly appreciating the view.

"Olin, this is Aurelia, my neighbor and she's a question for you."

Olin's blue eyes slid back to the young woman.

"A proposition," Aurelia clarified, putting as much business into her tone lest he form the wrong idea. "I would like to strike a bargain with you. I am interested in purchasing large quantities of your meats on a regular basis for the widows of our neighborhood. Would you be willing, if we promised to purchase at regular intervals, to give them a reduced price?"

Olin leaned back on his heels and scratched his golden brown beard thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know," he answered slowly. "How much of a discount and how often would you be buying?"

"Those are figures we haven't yet explored. We first needed to know there was a possibility of this deal before we asked the women. We didn't want to raise their hopes needlessly. But I imagine enough to bolster your sales." Aurelia narrowed her eyes knowingly. "Just think of all those little old widows who come in day after day and can seldom afford—or stomach—the meat available to them. All those coins, little though they are, walking out of your shop and never seeing their way to your purse. But imagine, if you will, a way to help them purchase more frequently from you. And not the scrag ends you try to pawn off on them. But the good cuts."

Olin was imagining, she could see from the glimmer in his eyes. But he also wished to be shrewd. "Well...I'm not so sure it would be worth my time," he finally responded as if reluctant.

"Not worth your time to sell off loins and whole shanks? Weekly?" Aurelia shrugged and turned toward the door. "Then perhaps there is another butcher more eager for easy, certain income. Hilma, take me to another—"

"Alright, alright, miss, you've proved your point." He sighed big and ran his hand through his hair. "Tell you what, miss. You find your widows and order what you will. And I'll guarantee...half a pound for a crown. Now, that's the best I can do, miss. But I promise that."

Aurelia's eyes narrowed. "If I'm not mistaken, that was what you offered Grazie yesterday, was it not?"

Behind his beard, Olin flushed. Aurelia's chin lifted, her green eyes cool. "I thought you were interested in making a deal, but if you are only going to offer what you have already, I don't see that it will work."

His lips pursed and he looked away. "Make it three mites for half a pound, and I think we can do business."

"Two," she countered ruthlessly.

He looked as if he were too stuffed full of hot water, even the tips of his ears turning red. But in the end he let out a great deflated sigh. "Very well, miss. Two mites for half a pound. But that really is the best I can do."

Aurelia held her triumphant smile in check, instead offering him a sincere but gracious nod. "Thank you, Olin, that is very kind. You will certainly be praised for your compassion," she nearly gushed, a bubbling fountain of gratitude and excitement rising in her chest though she tried to resist it. Olin seemed stunned a moment, and then blinking cleared his throat. Though Aurelia didn't see it, his cheeks pinked, overcome by her breathtaking beauty intensified by the purity of her appreciation.

"You'll be needing a place to prepare all this food, I imagine," Olin stated suddenly, coming to his senses.

"You're right," she agreed, excitement growing that he seemed as interested in their success and not just selling off his stock. "Any suggestions?"

"Well, I've a place what's attached to this here shop. It's empty, but has a spit and a stone oven. Needs cleaning, though," he added as if on second thought.

"And how much would you wish for the place? Monthly?" Aurelia asked.

Olin, perhaps not recovered from before, blushed again, and feeling his heart hammer exasperatingly in his chest cleared his throat once more. "I've no use for the place; it's empty as we speak, so...since you're doing this kind thing for the widows, I suppose you can use it rent-free," he acquiesced, as if giving in happily.

"Oh, thank you, Olin. That is truly kind of you," she gushed, a genuine smile blooming across her face.

The poor man couldn't take any more of her heart-crushing beauty. And so, a little brusquely, he ushered them out and bid them luck on their endeavor. After that, Hilma took Aurelia, one by one, to all the widows of their neighborhood, beginning first with the ones she had met at the well. All were very happy with her suggestion, and when they heard the discount they would be given, most eagerly agreed to join the collective for a good meal every day. A young widow whose husband had died at sea and left her with a toddling babe was offered the job to run the kitchen and help get the space cleaned. It wasn't difficult, but Aurelia was able to find Marcus who she paid an entire crown to assist with the chore of cleaning the empty room the butcher had allowed for their use. She even purchased the supplies to whitewash all the walls. By that evening, Aurelia had spent a great portion of her money on supplies for the kitchen, payment to the young widow for her service, and the first round of food stuff for her to prepare.

"Since love grows within you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul."

-Saint Augustine

When everything was at last in place, Aurelia walked home in a dreamy daze, the sort from being well-worn but greatly satisfied. What would Maks think, she wondered, a nervousness setting in. And suddenly he was there, as if by thinking of him she had conjured him from the cooling evening air. He stood near the door of their home, and as he had caught sight of her as well, he eyed her as she approached. She was filthy from her day's labor, and wearier than she had been since the trek to her new home, and her state caused a moment of shyness.

He seemed to sense something, perhaps that despite her fatigue she was happy, and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. "Good evening, bud, and where have you been?"

She stood before him, her smile was small, but full of pride. "Helping," she informed him, and then inclined her head for him to follow her in. With a great groan, she eased herself down onto a chair and sighed deeply, slowing and cleansing. Maks begun a fire and murmured something about needing more firewood in another day.

"If you can warm our food, I'll draw water for your bath," he suggested. She had a sleepy half-smile but nodded all the same. After they had eaten their dinner, Maks stripped her of her gown and helped her ease into the water. She was mildly surprised when he set about to wash her, but felt too sleepy, felt too full of food to think of complaining. It had been a good day, and having her husband touch every inch of her skin and ease away the little kinks of pain seemed a very fitting end.

"Come now, little bud, and share what you filled your day doing. How came you to be so dirty?" he asked softly, taking pains to gently wash the grime from her neck. Aurelia's eyes were closed as she luxuriated in the sensual feelings of his ministrations, fleetingly wondering what she would do once she used the very last of her fine soaps.

She sighed before answering. "Remember the widow I spoke of last week? Well, you were correct; she isn't the only one who is often unable to afford food for herself. Hilma helped me arrange with the butcher an agreement to sell to a group of the women good selection of meat at a discount. And then we found someone who can prepare it for them so they all have a good meal at least once a day. Her name is Marina and she is very sweet. She has a little son, quite the bold rascal," she chuckled remembering the toddler's defiance when his momma told him to stay out of the wash bucket.

"Anyway, we have twenty-two widows who have agreed for two crowns a week to join the meal cooperative. The butcher allowed us free use of one of his extra rooms. That's what we did today; cleaned, cleaned and cleaned. And then whitewashed it. Then I had to buy several pots and bowls and utensils and the food to begin. Thankfully there were enough stools around, but it would be nice if eventually they had actual tables to sit at. But I didn't have enough money to commission that yet."

Maks listened quietly, his hands never stopping their slow canvass of her body until she was spotless. Somewhere in her story his hand lost the rag and it was with bare fingers he stroked the slippery skin of her torso, her hip, her thigh.

Aurelia's head lolled back, a pant escaping from her mouth as his wandering hand slipped between her thighs and skimmed over her sex. There was silence, just the occasional swirl of water around his arm as his hand moved gently up and down the length of her slit, not penetrating, just caressing. Why did pleasure ache so much? she wondered as her folds began to swell and thrum with need. Biting her lip, her head rolled toward him, her eyes opening heavily.

Maks' dark eyes were watching her closely, and she felt her cheeks flush from heat that neither the water nor the fireplace could ignite in her.

"It sounds like quite the day," he murmured, his eyes holding hers as the pressure of two fingers became more insistent.

She swallowed, her heart speeding as waves of heat radiated up from his stroking fingers. Her knees parted as her hips lifted up, inviting. Maks only smiled darkly, and though his fingers kept up their maddeningly slow caresses, he didn't comply with her silent request. Not yet.

"You were able to find enough widows to contribute to adequately fund the food and this woman's pay?"

She nodded, her eyes fluttering closed. She shifted her hips again.

"And they'll be able to start tomorrow?" Stroke.

She nodded.

Stroke. "And they all know when to arrive?"

She nodded again. He stroked with enough pressure she thought she'd split beneath him, but didn't quite make it.

"And they were grateful."

Her cheeks pinked, shyly. She nodded once more.

"You're so...sweet," he praised, his fingers finally breaking the seal of her sex, sliding into liquid fire. Despite her breathless state, she managed a whimper.

"Maks," she called to him after a minute, her voice little more than a whisper.

"So very sweet," he whispered, the appreciation and praise of not only for her actions, but of her welcoming body. His fingers glided through her silken folds, stroking little hidden clusters of joy inside them. Aurelia was more than welcoming to his pleasing fingers and opened herself up to him as much as possible with hopes he would enter her and ease the deeper ache.

"And how were you able to afford all this?" he asked softly, seemingly focused on his idle exploration of her slick lips.

Her eyes flew open. His hand hadn't stopped moving or stroking or pinching, but his eyes held a challenging glint that made her heart beat for an entirely different reason.

"The coins we made the other day," she admitted, and though she had intended to defy him to find fault with her actions, she couldn't stop her voice from wobbling.

But Maks only nodded mildly. He didn't appear angry with her, but still she felt a trap. Aurelia had only a moment's warning as something flickered in his eyes just before two fingers drove into her tight canal.