her, “Who are you, Suga? Where have you
come from?” He asked in a curious whisper.
“My mama say, child o'the earth, to live on it,
and sweetin' al the places I go, like sugah. She say,
always leave, a sweet taste behin' for those, who
know me. She say, my name remin' me, what she
always want me to be, sweet – like sugah.”
Chapter IV
In the days that fol owed, slowly, gradual y, he
could tel she was getting more comfortable –
confident – trusting him to keep his word. She began
a routine which involved being as silent around him
as possible – while carrying on with matters within
his home he had once been forced to see to –
matters that waited until he got to them; such as
making order of his home. With each leave and
return, she made a better arrangement of things,
proving that women real y were better at making a
dwel ing a place one could cal home.
Something that also did not escape his notice
was that she had a habit of saying; she had to do her
bit. In view of that, her words, her deeds compel ed
Quinton to do his bit, providing things for the home
and for her – which made it what it should be, even
though he was stil , in a sense - a bachelor; contrary
to that, her presence was slowly but surely, altering
his dwel ing to reflect otherwise.
When the townsfolk had need of his services, in
exchange he received coin, materials, livestock ie;
two goats, one for milking and the other her kid; a
rooster; geese and a mule with cart. Returning with
each new trade, he turned them over to her and
immediately dismissed al things from his mind,
trusting her to take care so that he could continue on
with his studies, his tests…
…his experiments, al necessary in treating and
improving the conditions and health of citizens in his
charge. Oft-times his concentration had been so
intense that he would look up and around to note he
could not hear Suga, or her dog that fol owed closely
by her side. He'd bend his ear to locate her upstairs,
but her tread was so light, he could not be certain
and would have to rise – taking a break to find her.
Another time, he went in search for her,
growing anxious and cal ed out her name, “Suga!?
Where are you?” and to his embarrassment, she had
been tucked away in the same room with him,
sewing, Moose-Taima at her feet – neither of them
making a sound. “Good god, say something, make a
noise! Sneeze, cough, clear your throat, ask me
something!” He'd sputtered - for her to stare up at
him, clearly perplexed. “Why? Don' wanna botha' you
mas-...”
“That's it! That wil be the last slip! Never again
are you to make that error, I am not your master!
Quinton – you hear? I am Quinton and you – are
much too quiet! It is not normal for a woman to be so
silent al the time. Have I asked for such silence?” He
demanded. “No … Quinton.”
“Then why are you?”
“Don' wanna be no botha'.” She murmured low.
“Suga, you've been here now, more than a
couple of weeks, have I ever indicated that you were
a bother to me?”
She stared at him a moment, saying careful y,
“In-di-cated?”
“Means, to point out, to inform one, to make
known – in other words, have I said, Suga – you
bother me?”
“No sa' – don' want you to, I'mma stay quiet.”
He drooped, the air went right out of him with
his shoulders sagging, he moved forward and
dropped to his knees at her feet, beside Moose-
Taima, he stroked the animal’s ear while gazing into
her eyes.
“Suga, you are – a delight...” He announced
sincerely, reaching up, he caressed her cheek, “... I
look forward to – each moment that something you
do – brings my attention to you. I – I know you've
taken to sleeping on the sofa – I so wish you would
not – there was no need.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“I would not hurt you Suga, nor would I force
upon you, something you did not want – this includes
me. When, if – you would al
Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko