A thin mist still clung to the morning in the village of Briarford. The sound of birdsong filled the air as Lucien opened the bedroom window, a gentle breeze brushing his face with a cool touch.
"Ugh... cold..."
Elias mumbled, his eyes still closed. He turned his back to the window, pulled the blanket higher until it nearly covered his entire head, and went back to sleep.
"Wake up, El."
Lucien ruffled Elias's hair, only the top of his head poking out from beneath the blanket. Elias curled up even tighter, evading Lucien's hand.
"In a minute... I'm still sleepy," he said from under the blanket.
"Okay, ten more minutes. After that, you have to get up."
"Hmm," Elias answered briefly before falling soundly asleep again.
It had become Lucien's habit to make the bed before leaving the room. It always had to be neat.
The aroma of sautéed garlic drifted through the crack beneath the door. Lucien left the room, rubbing his eyes, and followed the scent until he found a woman moving busily around the kitchen.
Her long, wavy hair was a pale golden brown, much like Elias's. Most of the strands, however, had now turned white.
She was his mother, Elowen Mirelle Valebryn.
Mirelle looked thinner than she had a few years ago. Even so, she still moved with considerable agility. Her hands moved from one seasoning to another, occasionally stirring the food over the stove before reaching for the ingredients she needed.
Her favorite white apron, already somewhat worn, was tied neatly around her waist.
Lucien smiled faintly.
He approached his mother from behind and gently kissed her cheek.
"Good morning, Mother."
Mirelle startled slightly, then turned and smiled.
"Morning, Luce. You're up."
Lucien glanced at the food cooking on the stove.
"How are you feeling this morning, Mom? Is there anything I can help with?"
"I feel fine this morning."
While stirring the sauté, Mirelle pointed to a knife and several pieces of meat that had been placed on a cutting board.
"Cut the meat into several pieces. Then sauté it briefly and put it in the oven."
Lucien rolled up his sleeves a little. He picked up the knife and began cutting the meat in steady motions. The sound of the blade striking the cutting board mingled with the sizzle of oil on the stove.
"What about you, Luce? Did you get enough rest? Elias must have asked you a million questions again, huh?"
Lucien smiled in amusement.
"Quite a few."
"I've already told that boy not to ask questions when it's nearly bedtime, but he can keep going all night until he loses track of time."
Lucien held back a laugh.
"Well, he really is curious. There are always more questions popping into his head, but I don't mind."
Mirelle gave him a quick look.
"You're too gentle with him, Luce. It wouldn't hurt to be firm with him once in a while."
Mirelle turned her attention back to the food.
"He needs to learn to respect your time, too."
"I'd feel guilty if I did that, Mom."
Mirelle smiled faintly.
"That's your problem. You think too much about other people's feelings."
Lucien only chuckled softly.
But before their conversation could continue, Mirelle suddenly covered her mouth with her hand.
"Cough... cough!"
The knife in Lucien's hand stopped at once.
Mirelle turned slightly, trying to hold back the cough attacking her throat again.
Lucien quickly set down the knife.
"You're still coughing, Mom?"
Mirelle waved a hand as though nothing had happened.
"Ah, I accidentally inhaled some pepper."
"But you were coughing last night, too."
"You know I don't do well in cold air. I'll be fine after I drink some warm water and use a blanket."
Lucien studied his mother's face for a few moments. Something in the way Mirelle answered left him unconvinced.
"Where's your brother? It's this late and he still isn't up?" Mirelle asked, trying to change the subject.
"He said he was still sleepy, so I gave him a little more time. I guess it's time to wake him now."
"I'll wake him. Just keep cooking."
Mirelle untied her apron and placed it on the dining table. She knocked on her son's bedroom door, then went inside.
The muffled sound of Elias complaining that he was still sleepy drifted out, followed by their mother's protesting voice as she scolded him for staying up too late.
Lucien heard them and smiled, shaking his head. The two different voices, rising and falling in pitch as he listened, sounded amusing.
Elias came out of the bedroom with a small towel hanging around his neck. He stumbled along with his eyes half-open, while his mother followed behind him, holding both of his shoulders to make sure he did not trip.
Lucien brought the dishes to the table. Three plates had already been filled with asparagus, sliced potatoes, and evenly cut roast meat. A cup of hot tea had been poured for their mother, a glass of orange juice for him, and a glass of milk for Elias.
They had been waiting quite a while for Elias to come out of the bedroom.
"That boy... did he fall asleep again?" Mirelle asked curiously.
At last, Elias joined them and sat down on Lucien's left. Lucien's eyes drifted toward his hair.
"Pfft!"
He held back a laugh when he saw Elias's hair. The left side stuck straight up, looking completely different from the other side, with his bedhead still on full display. Lucien smoothed it down, hoping it would behave, but to no avail. It was as if the hair were saying, "I'm not so easy to conquer!"
"What happened to your hair?" Lucien asked, still chuckling a little.
"That's what took me so long. I've combed it over and over, but it still won't lie flat. What am I supposed to do at school? It looks weird, doesn't it?" Elias complained as he kept trying to pull his hair down.
"You always sleep on one side for too long. That's why your hair doesn't go back into place easily," Mirelle explained.
Elias scratched his head lightly, embarrassed. He had to admit his mother was right. Because he slept in the same position so often, one side of his body would sometimes feel numb when he woke up after being pressed against it for so long. The invisible itch made it impossible for him to get up right away, and scratching only made it worse.
As time passed, they ate breakfast with light conversation between them.
Then Elias suddenly realized how late it was when he glanced at the clock hanging on the living room wall.
"Oh no!"
He hurriedly stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth.
"Elias, slow down," Mirelle scolded.
Elias chewed as quickly as he could before swallowing his food.
"I'm going to miss the train!"
Elias immediately rose from his chair. He grabbed the shoulder bag he had set beside it and put it on. After making sure he had his books, he snatched up his school uniform cloak and put it on in a hurry.
Mirelle could only shake her head at her second child's antics.
Elias approached his mother.
"I'm leaving, Mom."
He kissed Mirelle's hand, then gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Be careful on the way, and listen to your teacher," Mirelle reminded him.
"I will."
Elias hurried toward the front door.
Before going outside, however, he stopped to put on his shoes, which had been left beside the rack.
A moment later, footsteps sounded behind him.
Lucien appeared from the dining room and stopped in the doorway.
Elias's gaze accidentally fell on the small sideboard beside the door. A photograph in a wooden frame stood on top of it.
A young man with copper-brown hair like Lucien's and sea-blue eyes like Elias's smiled warmly from within the frame.
Elias fell silent for a moment.
He had seen that photograph countless times. Yet every morning before leaving, for some reason, he always felt the need to greet it.
"I'm heading out, Dad."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Wish me luck so I don't miss the train."
Standing behind him, Lucien gazed at the photograph for a moment as well.
Elias then stood and turned to face his brother.
"I'm off, Luen."
He went over to Lucien and hugged him briefly. Lucien returned the embrace with one arm.
"Mm. Take care."
Elias had only just turned around when he stopped because Lucien caught hold of his cloak.
"Oof! What is it?" Elias asked, rubbing his neck, which had been slightly choked by the cloak.
"Don't go hunting in the forest by yourself without telling us first."
"Hehe... sorry. I won't do it again, promise!" he said, raising two fingers to show that he would not forget what Lucien had said.
Since he was already running late, he left the house at a light jog.
Once again, Lucien held back a laugh at his antics. The jog made that sticking-up lock of hair bounce wildly, and Elias seemed to have forgotten all about it.
The sound of Elias's footsteps gradually faded along the village road.
Lucien remained standing in the doorway, watching until his brother disappeared around the bend.
After making sure Elias had truly left for the station, Lucien closed the door.
Morning had already begun to rise. Sunlight slipped between the leaves and fell in scattered patches across the backyard of the Valebryn home.
He took the woven basket hanging near the back door and carried it to the garden.
The garden was not very large, but it was enough to meet the family's everyday needs. Several plots were planted with vegetables, while various fruit trees grew along the far side, tended for many years.
Lucien crouched between the rows of plants.
"These are ready to harvest."
He reached for several ripe tomatoes, picking them one by one with care before placing them in the basket. Then he moved to the carrots, gripped one by its leaves, and slowly pulled it from the soil.
Plop!
He shook the dirt clinging to the tip of the carrot before putting it in the basket.
He continued his work without hurrying.
He picked several heads of lettuce that had grown large enough, followed by onions, potatoes, and a few other vegetables that were ready to be harvested.
Every so often, Lucien stopped to inspect the plants that were not yet ready. He cleared the weeds around their stems, straightened fallen leaves, or simply made sure no pests were damaging the crops.
When the basket began to fill, Lucien stood and wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead.
"Hmm. Not bad."
Lucien was still busy in the garden when the sound of coughing came from the house.
"Cough... cough..."
His hand, which had been straightening a leaf, paused.
He turned toward the house.
The sound was all too familiar.
A few seconds later, Lucien lowered his head again and continued working. He did not need to ask who was coughing.
Mirelle.
That cough had become an almost daily sound.
Sometimes it came only once or twice. Other times, it lasted long enough to make Lucien unconsciously hold his breath. Yet whenever he asked how she was feeling, Mirelle always gave the same answers.
"I'm fine." "It's just an ordinary cough." "The air was too cold last night."
Or some other simple excuse that always managed to bring the conversation to an end.
Lucien had once suggested that his mother drink an extra herbal remedy, or ask Mrs. Helena to make something to help keep her healthy.
Mirelle always refused with the same smile.
"Don't worry, Luce. I'll be fine."
That was why Lucien had begun asking less often.
Not because he did not care.
It was because he knew his mother too well.
No matter how many times he asked, Mirelle would keep trying to convince him that there was nothing to worry about.
The sound of coughing came from inside the house again.
Lucien stopped working once more.
This time, he did not turn around.
He only stared at the plant in front of him, his hand gripping the leaf he had just straightened.
A sense of worry slowly filled his chest, but he did not know what else to do except keep watch from a distance.
I hope Mom really is all right. I hope that cough stops soon. I hope...
Lucien drew a long breath, then resumed his work.
For now, all he could do was pray for her in silence.
At last, the work in the garden was finished.
Lucien carried the basket of harvested produce to the front yard. He set it beside the wooden bench beneath an old apple tree.
Then he sat down.
His body felt a little sore after working since morning, but the breeze moving through the trees was so cool that his fatigue gradually faded.
Lucien leaned back against the bench.
His eyes closed.
Just for a moment.
The rustle of leaves in the wind, birdsong, and the faint sounds of activity from the village made the morning feel utterly peaceful.
Until an apple fell directly onto the ground near his feet.
Lucien opened his eyes.
He picked up the apple, then tilted his head back.
The apple tree above him looked much fuller than it had a few years ago. Its branches were laden with ripe red fruit. Some even looked so heavy that they made the smaller branches droop.
Lucien smiled faintly.
"Looks like you're getting too heavy," he murmured.
He examined one of the branches bent beneath its load of fruit.
"Your branches are practically bowing."
He turned the apple that had just fallen around in his hand.
He would probably have to pick those apples later, too.
There had to be quite a lot of them.
He could sell some at the shop. He might take some others to the orphanage near the church. The children there would surely love them.
He also wanted to give a few to Rosaline and Gareth.
Finn would probably be happy to receive some fresh fruit, too.
The rest could be eaten with Mom and Elias.
Lucien imagined their dining table covered with those red apples.
Another small smile appeared on his face.
"Looks like we'll be eating apples for the next few days."
He placed the apple in the basket with the rest of the garden's harvest.
Lucien's gaze lifted toward the tree again.
The tree had grown so large.
His father had planted it long ago.
Who knew how long it had been growing there, accompanying the Valebryn family year after year?
Lucien ran a hand over the slightly rough surface of the wooden bench.
So many memories were stored in that simple place.
And that morning, everything still felt the same.
The same house. The same garden. The same apple tree. The same morning breeze.
Lucien drew a long breath, then stood.
He lifted the basket of produce.
"Time to open the shop."
He left the bench behind and walked toward the Valebryn family shop.
Behind him, the apple tree's leaves swayed in the wind once more.
One ripe apple swung slowly at the end of a branch, as if waiting its turn to fall.