After lunch was done and cleaned up, with less help than usual from Clara – who still seemed to be in a daze of sorts – the youngest Briarwool in Everslade went back to her cousin's house to check on her mother.
The elder redhead was sitting on the chair in the guest room that had been given over to her, and was fussing with the edge of her shawl. The loose threads were getting worse, her daughter saw, and it would need proper mending soon. A light rap on the doorframe got the woman's attention, she looked up, momentarily startled.
"Bela! Oh! I didn't hear you come in. What time is it…?" She looked to the window and gasped. "No! It's that late? I didn't help you with lunch at all. I'm sorry! I got… lost in my head again, didn't I?"
The young teen nodded, and moved into the room to hug Dahlia. "Aye, mum. But we know that happens, and Framsel helped. Said he doesn't mind doing dishes as long as it's not with Bram – who apparently cheats on the chores, or something."
That got a snort and a nod from her mother. "He would." She sighed. "But it's still not right. You all having to take care of me like this, when I'm not even hurt…"
"Hurt inside, mama. It counts. We know." She sighed then herself, and changed the topic before her mother could resume any moping. "But since you're following things enough to say that, and know the time, I have to ask you something." She took a deep breath to nerve herself up, but managed to blurt out her question before being prompted for it.
"Mama, did I do right? I know you said I did, but… did I do right? With Clara, and the lock-box, and all?"
That brought Dahlia's mind further into focus. She reached up to pull her daughter into her lap to hold and comfort her even before answering. It didn't work so well as it had when Bela was younger, and needed her cooperation now, but that happened.
"Yes, honey, you did. It took me quite by surprise, and I had to try to think it through, but you did. Framsel's little speech helped. It gave me time, and his reasoning for supporting you was sound. I still won't trust her with loose coins if I should start bringing them again, nor would I with my jewelry if I had any – but she told me not to. That's a different matter from trusting her, which we can, and all the more so because she lets us know her limits."
Belle hugged and cuddled with her mother through her words, and nodded hesitantly. "But you said… you should have screamed? I mean, I know you also said I'd done right, and that Clara's crying meant she was saying yes, and all, but... ." She trailed off as she received more of a hug.
"My first reaction, of course, was to want to scream about just handing over that much money to her. As long as it's been, even with what you must have spent, that box had to have almost a hundred gold Arnorian coins worth in it." She smiled up at her daughter's confirming nod. "And, while I do miss some things, I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed if she'd actually opened it. She hasn't yet."
Belle's head came up in surprise. "But she's already…"
Dahlia nodded, interrupting her. "Yes, honey, she's already arranged warmer clothes for her and Framsel, and those braziers for guard duty, but she did that through Rhody. Town guards, town budget. And that, too, is part of being a responsible adult. I hadn't really expected it of her, quite. Being that thorough about it, I mean – she did talk to me when she could catch me on my trips into town over the past year. I knew she was looking out for you, and doing well at it. She really changed my opinion of her – and of her mother, considering where I'd got most of my bad impressions earlier."
That made Belle blink in surprise. That was an odd way for her mother to talk about her own sister, wasn't it? But then she remembered how she had just been talking about her brother Bramblerood, and she flushed a little, nodding.
"In fact, honey, you're probably the most responsible for how Clara has turned out to be so responsible."
Belle's head jerked up again. "I what? Me? How?"
Her mother chuckled, patting her on the shoulder and coaxing her back into their embrace. "You needed someone you could depend on. Someone who knew their way around town and taking care of things. And, despite not liking to say such things, someone who wasn't Lettie. Yes, Clara told me about the knuckle bruises she saw on your face, and how they were a big part of why she insisted on moving you into the Pony."
She sighed, patting the girl more, as Bela squirmed a little. "By being, well, a dependent child to her, for all that doesn't do you enough credit for what you were doing, you gave her the opportunity. Yes, she could have taken advantage of the situation, or tried to. She could have ducked and run away from it. That's certainly true. But, as Framsel said, she stepped up. And yes, that's her, and not you – and the good heart in her that must always have been there, for all so many of us hadn't seen it. It must be what Rhody saw in her all along, though."
She sighed again, shaking her head at herself over getting distracted. "But the opportunity was something you gave her, by giving her your trust and your heart. It's like she was a fallow field until you fertilised and watered it. It was still up to her to grow, but she needed you to make it happen."
Belle took a while to mull that over, just cuddling on her mother's lap. "And, as you carefully didn't quite say, the seed was already there in that field." She sighed, almost a giggle, but not quite. "She's almost like…" her voice trailed off, afraid to finish the thought aloud.
"Your other mother."
The girl winced, not really wanting to be saying that, but there it was. She nodded her agreement with her mother's words.
"It's all right, honey. When her reports to me, and some confirmations from Mister Butterbur, made it clear to me she was being that responsible with you, well… it was a lot easier for me to be trying to provide for you from a distance the way I was, knowing that she was filling that role when you needed it. You've still come to me, now, for this little talk. I'm still your mother, and you've shown that. But she's your other mother, and we all still need her to be that while I'm not always myself."
Mother and daughter hugged and cuddled more, rocking a bit in a chair not really meant for it, but they were both small, and it was a well-made chair. It worked for them, and their needs of the moment.
