Chapter 4, Corn Cakes

After Darcie left, Abri climbed to her loft and lay down.  Her vision (her word for the clarity she
gained following a seizure) did not prompt her to appear at Lord Gillingham’s as Gerald had
commanded.  She wouldn’t have arrived by noon if she had gone; plus she was too exhausted
due to spending the night tied to a tree, not to mention that she always awoke from her fits
feeling completely wrung out.  

    Hours later, she woke with a start.  Da would be coming home and she had prepared nothing
for their evening meal.  The rabbit had been so small that there was no left-over stew.  Her mind
ran through the options: Beans?  No, they took hours to cook.  Soup?  She hadn’t been to the
fields and had nothing to put in a soup.  Bread would take too long to bake.

   She ground a handful of corn into meal, added a little bacon fat and buttermilk, and formed five
balls.  These she flattened into thin discs and fried in a cast iron skillet.  On top of each corn cake,
as she called them, she put a slice of salted pork and a slice of cheese.  This would have to do,
she thought and then ran to the well with the pitcher.  

   The rest of the evening was an anxiety festival as Abri thought about what Da would say and
what she would say.  Certainly he would see her bandaged wrists, but if she explained how she
got them she would have to explain about the clan, and Da would be apoplectic.  

   For many people anxiety is paralyzing.  One becomes unable to do the exact thing that would
relieve the anxiety.  Abri was not that type.  Her hatred of anxiety pain motivated her to face
whatever fear was causing it.  She would tell Da about her vision.  Perhaps she could explain that
her wrists were bleeding when she woke from the fit and that she had no idea how they were hurt. 
That was an innocent enough of a lie to tell.  

   Abri ate one of the corn cakes and left four for Da.  She never felt like eating much when she
was anxious.  

   Da was not late coming home this evening.  He sat down at the table, snatched up a corn cake,
and mumbled through a mouthful, “Is this it?”

   “Sorry.  I didn’t have time to make anything else.”

   “And how should that be?”

   What to say…? Abri hesitated.  

   Da interrupted Abri’s thinking.  “And why didn’t ye show at Lord Gillingham’s as instructed?”

   Abri thought, He hasn’t realized that I wasn’t home this morning when he went off to town.

   “Da, I had a vision.”

   “Oh, is that why you wouldn’t wake this morning?”

   “Da, I’m not to go to Lord Gillingham’s”

   “What? That won’t do, Abi.  That won’t do at all.”

   “Da, the vision told me to go to the labor camp and find John Saunders instead.”

   “Girl, you’ll do no such thing.  First thing on the morrow you’ll be going to the manor house
and presenting yourself.  You’ll make your excuse about having a seizure, and hopefully that
will be good enough to win some compassion from the Earl.”

   Abri looked doubtful.

   “Do you hear me, Girl?”

   Pause.

   “Do you hear me?  Abi, this is no small matter.  You’ll go if I have to drag you.”

   “OK, Da, I’ll go.”

   Da was satisfied with that, uncorked a small keg, and poured himself a mug of cider.  Abri sat
by the lamp at the table and tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate on the page.  Her mind
kept returning to the conversation with Da and what she wished she had said.  

   The lie about going to the manor was harder to tell than the one she had planned on.  But if
she didn’t tell it, Da would drag her to the manor himself.   She would do as the vision had told
her--go see John Saunders--even though she feared to displease Da.  She blinked back a tear
and wondered if she was angry that Da had forced her into a lie, or if she was angry that she
had displeased him.  Reading was impossible, but she kept up the show of it for a while longer.  

   She lost the battle with her emotions when she realized that Da hadn’t even noticed the
bandages on her wrists.  She softly closed the book so as not to draw attention, climbed to the
loft, and silently cried herself to sleep.