Only when she was satisfied that he was comfortable did she take the seat beside him and accept her lunch from me.
Gregor hunched forward over his bowl, but she sat straight-backed, bringing her fork carefully from plate to mouth. One thing I had discovered about being silent was that people tended to confide things in me—filling my silence with words of their own. And Vilma had admitted to me once how proud she was of her straight back. Not for vain reasons, though, or even physical comfort. No, instead she considered it a daily reminder of her husband’s love and care, and a sign to the world of how well he had provided for her.
“He worked hard every day of his life so that I wouldn’t have to be bent before my time—broken by too many days and nights hunched over unending labor or carrying heavy loads. He provided for his parents and mine, as well, you know—along with our two children. No one could ask for a better husband—you should find yourself one just like my Gregor, Lady.”
I always smiled and nodded, although I suspected Gregor’s breed were few and far between these days. Their own son had married a merchant’s daughter from another town and left without a backward glance. Their daughter seemed to have married a nice enough fellow based on Vilma’s comments about him, but they had married for love, not wealth, and couldn’t afford to take in her parents. I knew it grieved her, and she visited them as often as she could, bringing any excess she had to contribute to the haven’s supplies.
When all the food had been distributed, Vilma patted a seat beside her, inviting me over, and I went willingly enough.
“You seem sad today, Lady. Is it a young man?”
I grimaced. It was, of course, but not in the way she meant. She patted my knee.
“Not having a voice might present something of a problem, but he’d be a fool not to see your value,” she assured me.
I couldn’t help smiling back despite her mistaken assumption.
“And I know it’s not easy,” she continued. “Trust never really is. But it’s harder to come by in a place like this. Still necessary, though, you know.”
I frowned at her this time, my eyes asking the question my lips could not.
“I see it every day, you know,” she said. “Fear is more natural for most of us who have found our way here, but love can’t thrive in a garden of fear.”
I blinked at her, no longer sure what we were talking about.
“My water!” Gregor called abruptly, interrupting our rather confusing tête-à-tête. “Does anyone know where I set my water down?”
Vilma turned to him. “Did you ever have it to begin with?”
He frowned, thinking, and then let out a guffaw, striking his knee.
“Why, I don’t think I did. What a duffer I’ve become. It’s a wonder you ladies put up with me.”
I hurried over to a cabinet against one of the walls and removed a large clay jug. Several mugs sat beside it, and I took two, filling them both with clear, cool water. Treading carefully, I returned to the elderly couple and gave them each one. They drank with murmurs of enjoyment, remarking to each other on the superior and refreshing qualities of the water.
Vilma and Gregor had been forced to give up everything, leaving their life behind to move here when age and infirmity overtook them. But Gregor had insisted that the one thing he could not give up was the water of their home. His daughter, filled with contrition at not being able to take them in herself, had been more than happy to oblige, and every week she refilled the jug at least twice from the small, ancient well that sat just inside the forest behind their old house.
The new inhabitants didn’t use it, and I could hardly blame them. I had accepted a taste from Vilma once, and the water had a slightly unpleasant, musty flavor compared with the water drawn from the local river. But apparently after more than five decades in the home the two of them had become accustomed to it. It had often made me wonder what the water of my lake would taste like to someone else.
Gregor began to tell me the story of his discovery of the well. I had heard the tale at least five times, but I nodded and smiled and clapped as needed because I knew he loved to tell it. And