Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 218

Chapter 218: Getting along
The next few days were difficult. Every interaction Mia had with Ford was confusing in the extreme. Sometimes he was almost kind, other times brusque and cold.

He left her baffled, but the magical pull drawing her to him did not let up. If anything, it only grew stronger.

It had never behaved like this before. Even when she was actively looking for something else, she could still feel a secondary pull towards the room where he was staying.

She opted to treat him with as much unfailing kindness as she could muster, which seemed to irritate him. She couldn’t work out why!

Eventually he was well enough to sit alongside the women and help with chores like churning butter or holding bundles of spun yarn while one of the women wound it into a ball.

Mia welcomed his participation in whatever she was doing, and couldn’t help but note he seemed more comfortable around her mother and grandmother than herself.

It made her a little sad, and perhaps even jealous. Did he dislike her so much? They were close in age. With the good food he was eating, and with his time sitting on the porch in the sunshine, his face was no longer as sallow and gaunt.

“You look far healthier than when you arrived,” She commented at the end of his first week with them. “Are you feeling better?”

Ford’s brow crinkled slightly, and he nodded slowly. “I’ve never eaten so well. Your family is unbelievably kind to treat me like a guest and not a drifter.”

“Drifting is a hard life,” Grandma said sagely. “You’d do better to settle.”

“I’m not sure I know how,” Ford told her with a slight shrug.

“You ply a trade, find a good woman, marry, and stay put, working faithfully for as long as your old bones will let you,” The woman advised with a punctuating nod.

“That’s it?” Ford’s question seemed rude on the surface, and it made Mia giggle behind her hand. Her mother shot her a mild look of reproof, but Sarah’s eyes also held amusement in them.

“A good wife makes everything better, and a bad one makes it all far worse,” Grandma leaned back in her chair as she dispensed her wisdom. It was something she dearly loved doing, but Mia knew that since the grandchildren already received most of it in some form or another, Grandma was relishing the fresh audience.

“How so?” Ford asked curiously. “Not many of the miners were married, and those that were didn’t seem much happier for it.”

“A good woman will make anything you give her better. You give her a house, she’ll turn it into a home. Crops become nourishing meals. Fabric becomes clothes to keep you warm. But best of all, give her your love, and you get a family in return.” Grandma winked, and Mia looked away.

Ford seemed to be seriously contemplating the old woman’s words, as if the concept was completely new to him. Perhaps it was. That thought saddened Mia considerably.

“And a bad wife?” He asked.

“Makes it so you don’t ever want to come home at all,” Grandma shook her head.

Mia watched Ford’s face out of the corner of her eye. That seemed to resonate with him, and she wondered what kind of people his parents had been. He’d mentioned an uncle that had died when he was young, and a mother who had never married or let him meet his father. What memories did Ford carry? Had there ever been a time in his life where he was happy?

Her heart ached for him.

She often wondered to herself what he would look like if he would laugh. He never did, not fully. It was as if there was no joy in him at all. Her family had obviously noticed the same, though none of them had said so out loud.

They were normally unguarded people, easy in their ways. When Ford arrived, they had all become a modicum more reserved, but gradually, they all brightened in their efforts to draw him out of the dark shell he lived in.

So far these efforts had yielded little fruit. He conversed politely, occasionally even made efforts to smile, but none of them felt quite genuine. Like he’d never felt real joy enough to do anything except try to fake it.

It made her more determined to see him laugh. To reach his heart and make sure it was still in there, still beating. Surely the mines hadn’t killed it entirely, though they had done an excellent job of helping him bury it.

“What kind of trade is best for someone like me?” He asked next. The women were silent for a moment, and Sarah answered eventually, asking a question of her own.

“Is there anything in particular you’d be interested in learning? There’s always more land to farm, if you’ve a mind to try it. Some people around here are getting older and can’t take care of their own land. They would probably let you farm it yourself in exchange for a portion of the crops you harvest. Or you could stay on as a paid hand with one of them, of course, but many don’t have the money handy to pay steadily all year…”

“I don’t know anything about farming aside from what I’ve learned since coming here,” Ford looked down. “And most of what I’ve found out is to use magical moths to help with planting, and keep the pests away.”

“The moths aren’t magical, and it’s not hard to do without magic,” Grandma put in. “Grandpa’s just creative with his abilities.”

“I don’t suppose you know of any way I could get magic of my own?” Ford gave one of his attempts at a joke with a halfhearted smile.

If Mia hadn’t been watching, she might have missed the glance between her mother and grandmother. Her eyes darted to Ford. He clearly hadn’t missed it. It confused him.

“I’m sorry you’re normal like me, Ford,” Sarah said gently. “People like us must make the most of the non-magical talents that we do have in the world.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Ford said bitterly.