Then there was also the other ever-present question Veri kept hearing the grown-ups ask, though to her it didn’t have any meaning. Their question was, why did they wait? But who it was that was waiting Veri didn’t know. She had often made guesses, and had many, many times asked what the question meant, but she had never really gotten an answer.

Once she almost had, though, when she had been playing with the fish seller’s children. Of course she wasn’t doing this by choice. Aia and Markus weren’t the most friendly, and their games usually were much more rowdy than shy Veri liked, but after purchasing a few small fish, her mother had told her to play with the children while she talked to their parents. In the heat of their discussion the adults didn’t notice when Aia and Markus decided that Veri was just too boring and quiet today to do anything with and left her alone. In the quiet she had been able to catch a bit of the conversation. Something about a strange name she thought she had heard whispered somewhere before, though she couldn’t remember where. Her face was all intentness and she was sure she was on the brink of finally receiving an answer when Markus jumped out at her with a grass snake in his hands, scaring her and breaking up the hushed talking with the little girl’s screams.

Veri wondered why she was remembering all this now.

“Mama?” she asked.

“Hm?” Her mother’s fingers never slowed or stopped.

“What’s a Nisha?”

Now the needles almost dropped and her mother’s hands quickly gripped the fabric to keep it from falling off her lap. “Verene! Where did you hear that name?” she demanded, her eyes now wide open and showing their nearly white blue color. Her head had whipped around to face her startled daughter.

“I—I don’t know—” she faltered. Her mother rarely got upset at her. What could be so bad about saying that?

“No, Veri, you have to tell me how you know that name,” her mother insisted. “It’s much more… more important than you realize that I know.”

“But I…” Veri tried to remember, squinting her brown eyes closed in the effort. “I’ve just heard people say it.” And I’ve heard it in my thoughts sometimes. Though she didn’t say the last part. Her mother had never understood about her thoughts.

“Who’s said it?”

“Um… you? Just people…”

“Around town?”

“Yes…”

With a sigh that sounded relieved but still tense, her mother finally accepted the answer. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the rocking chair, not saying anything. Veri grew more confused.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Her mother didn’t answer for a moment. “Mama?”

She finally sat up again. “It’s okay… nothing is… nothing is wrong. I was just scared for a moment…” She shook her head. “But if you just… Never mind. It’s okay.”

That didn’t really help me feel better, Veri thought. But whatever.

“What time is it?” her mother asked, changing the subject. The little girl sat up to look across the room at the clock on the mantel, which was right in front of her mother.

Veri concentrated. “One… forty?”

“One forty?” her mother echoed in shock. “That can’t be right. Are you sure?”

“I think so?” She wasn’t.

“Is the little hand on the one?” asked her mother, already over her surprise in realizing her daughter’s mistake.

Veri looked again. “Um, no, the big one.”

“Then it’s nine,” she chuckled. “Which is better, but still much too late for you to be up.”

“But Mama,” Veri began to protest. “I’m not tired!”

Her mother smiled. “Kids always say that.”

“But I’m not! Really!” Veri insisted, though she knew either way she couldn’t win.

“Ah-ah-ah,” her mother said, cutting off any more protests. “Get in bed.” She herself carefully folded up the knitting and stood up from the chair, and with the project held in one hand moved over to Veri’s bed. The child, already ready for bed – at least on the outside – obligingly got under the covers, holding the kitten in her arms, and watched the woman turn off the lamp next to Veri’s head, then carefully check the grate of the fire with the metal poker. Darkness covered most of the room now, but the last of the fire softly lit up the figure of her mother as she went to the door, opened it, and stepped one foot out into the hallway.

“Good night, little Veri,” she told her daughter as she paused on the threshold.

“Good night, Mama. Mama, sometimes I forget you’re blind,” Veri commented before the door closed entirely.

Her mother smiled sadly.