Gaston pounded on the door and a woman, short, medium-built, but tired-looking with soft brown eyes and a thin moustache emerged from the entrance. Her smile immediately widened and her hands reached to pinch my cheeks.
"What brings you two here, Señor Gaston?" she asked in a thick accent, her curly black hair rippling with the candle light.
"Here to make supper, Leticia. The girl's gonna help." Gaston glanced over his rounded shoulder at me.
"You shouldn't have," the woman whispered and shook her head with a smile. Her eyes were welling up with tears but she proudly hid them. "Please come in."
With one hand, Gaston pushed me into the inn. Unfortunately, the inside was cool and dark and devoid of patrons.
"I thought I would drop by and see how you two were fairing," Gaston said as one of his massive bear-hands cupped the woman's shoulder and squeezed it.
"It has been difficult, but we manage." Leticia smiled hopefully and patted his hand as she shuffled passed. "I don't know what we would do without you."
I eyed the room warily, however, a familiar face popped up from behind the serving desk of the inn.
"Señor Gaston." The boy named Dier smiled widely until his eyes found me. "You brought her?" The bruise under his eye was only faintly yellow now.
"Didier Milagros, you're being rude to our guest." Madame Leticia rebuked the wily, dirty creature.
"But Madre," he groused, "she's the one who punched me in the face."
Madame Leticia's mouth parted into an 'o' and Gaston's untamed brow rose just a fraction.
"Bella niña, you are that Acel?" she gasped.
My head bobbed hesitantly.
Suddenly Madame Leticia was laughing. "All this talk, I thought you'd be a boy. You must be as brave as a lion," Madame Leticia cackled, her hands rested confidently on her hips. "Back where I come from all women are like this. It's good you Lammert girls don't let the boys do like they want at all times."
Dier furrowed his brow disapprovingly, but Gaston pulled me aside into the kitchen which was hidden in a separate room.
He lit a fire under the stove and slid an old metal pan onto the surface.
I stood motionless until he turned away to gather more of the firewood sitting in the corner. "Go on, Acel, I didn't bring you along to gawk at the wall."
Red-faced, I placed the basket of eggs beside the stove. I still had no idea what I was supposed to do with them. I had never cooked an egg in my life. So I watched the heating iron with trepidation until it glowed a ruddy-brown colour and my tormentor slogged back across the kitchen floor.
"I-I don't know how-" My gaze couldn’t raise above his belt buckle and it plummeted to the floor boards after trying.
Appalled, the old man brushed me aside and then snorted in frustrated indifference. He sidestepped the stove, took an egg from my hands and cracked it fiercely against the side of the copper frying pan.
"Didier, get over here, will ya’?" Gaston asked the boy.
Suddenly my heart was pounding from a fear that I could hardly understand.
I scuffed my heels on the floorboards in my retreat and ran out one of the backdoors to the inn's kitchen.
Fat, wet snowflakes descended from the blackened sky, catching on my face and hair and immediately disintegrating. With gasping breaths, I tucked my cold fingertips under my arms and sobbed quietly on the back stoop.
At least Régine could sew and Belle could cook. Me... I couldn't do anything. I was also a thief, a poor thief. No one would marry me when Régine and Belle were so much prettier and I couldn't do a single task without help.
I moaned and my stomach did the same which made me cry harder. When I eventually cried my face red and my hands were numb from rubbing them off, I heard a soft-spoken voice.
"What are you doing out here?"
I snapped to see Gaston ease onto the stoop, shutting the door softly behind him.
"I don't want to go in," I snivelled from behind the fabric of my dress skirt, my knees pressed firmly to my face.
The weighty silence clumped along with all the snowflakes at the base of my toes.
"It would be rude to stay outside."
When I saw the firmness in his cracked lips, I looked down at my feet again and nodded unenthusiastically.
"I understand, Acel, I know you think I don't, but I understand what you are going through." Gaston pursed his reddish lips and the hollows of cheeks sunk in.
"I didn't plan to," I said in defence of the theft. "I-I was so mad. I don't know why I took it- I can't even cook!" I wailed uncontrollably.
Gaston rubbed the ridge of my back until I regained my breath.
"I can't do anything," I cried. "Beauty and Giena are smart and talented, but I-I'm useless."
"I can teach you how to cook an egg, Acel," Gaston said bluntly. As if that was the problem.
"But not just that- I can't do anything," I repeated
Gaston laughed. It was a barking, cynical laugh that hit me right in the ears. "If you can have a go at the Milagros boy, I bet there's a fair lot you could do if you wanted it badly enough. Not that I'd advise you to keep butting heads with the lads in town."
I was clenching my teeth the hardest I could until I heard Gaston speak again.
"You remind me a little of myself."
He offered me his hand and I grabbed it with all my force when he lifted me back to my feet. He was terrifyingly strong; the old man would have been a sight in his youth.
Gaston didn't say much to me when we went back inside the inn, took advantage of the Milagros' hospitality and cleaned up after, but there was a chance that something good had come of that night.
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