52nd Thread: Return of The Prodigal Aunt

She had to take care of her brothers and sister and her sick mother for a long time. That role should have been by tradition her older sister’s but she ran away to the north instead. My mother married late, when her parents’ death freed her at last. All the babies she had after me were stillborn because she was too old. She kept her grudge against her elder sister, repeating over and over what a bad woman lacking all morals she had been. One day, my mother and I were repairing nets on the doorstep when a rich lady rode up. Much younger than my mother, she had all her teeth, her complexion was milky, her braids pinned up high with golden clips. She resembled the saints on our church’s wall with her brightly colored clothes. Later, I learned that her teeth were false, her hair dyed, her skin covered with lead ointment.

A handsome youth in a yellow and blue livery jumped from his mount to help her down. All the children came running to see the newcomers and their horses. We only had donkeys in the village.

– I’ve come for your daughter, she said, without even entering our cottage.

– You should have returned a long time ago. You should never have left.

– I’ll make a lady out of her.

– I’ll make her a pious fisherwoman, said my mother without lifting her eyes from her net.

– She will live in town, and learn embroidery. I’ve already put aside her dowry.

– She would learn sin.

The rich woman thumped the ground with her boot which was concealed by her long skirt. I couldn’t help but stare at her.

‘She’ll lead a life of comfort and respectability.’

‘I’m old and tired. How dare you show yourself here and ask for my daughter?’ added my mother.

‘You’re younger than I am,’ said my aunt.

‘I only have her. I birthed her, I fed her, I clothed her, I nursed her through ills and fevers. What did you do? You ran away from duty. She will stay and take care of me on my deathbed.’

‘I will hire all the caregivers you might want. You will lie in sheets of the finest batiste. Your broth will overflow with chicken and marrow bones.’

My mother turned to me:

‘Won’t you say something?’

Any girl in her senses would have made the same choice. I followed my aunt. Old women tell such stories of lucky twists of fate but they always involve a fairy or a praiseworthy prince, not a defiant sinner like my aunt. It turned out just as she had promised, I learned embroidery, I got a good dowry, we lived in comfort. She was kind, but not tender. She had to be tough to get where she was. Later, when I had become accustomed to my life of prosperity, she told me her secrets:

‘I had to get hired fast when I ran away, anything would do, if I didn’t want to starve. The masters at that nasty farm fed me worse than pigs. I was always hungry, no matter what season. When I got up in the morning, they were still asleep in their warm feather beds. I cleaned the ashes, carried logs, lit the fire. Then, quiet as could be, I sneaked into the chicken coop where I would gobble a couple of eggs. I always buried the shells in the orchard to avoid being caught. One morning, my shovel struck something hard, under a very old plum tree. Squatting amidst nettles and brambles, for these people took no care of their land, I scratched the ground with a broken tile. Rags emerged first from the muddy clay, then, from inside their folds appeared coins, and earrings, and bracelets, necklaces, buckles. No bronze, no silver, only gold. And at last, so deep under the rags I almost missed it, laid the braided crown you will wear at your marriage. For a moment, I could not believe what I saw. I could not think what to do. Had I not stolen eggs every morning, I would not have hit my good fortune. Then, without questioning fate, without looking for an explanation, I gathered the trove in my skirts, and ran. I did not fetch my shabby bindle from the house for fear of getting caught. In rags, my skin dirty, my hair stuck with soot, I fled as fast as I could, with a fortune tight against my belly.

I came here, sold everything but the crown, and started my business. Had to marry as the notables looked ill upon me. He was feeble in body and in mind. Soon he was dead, and I went looking for you.’