Grandmother's Teeth

Chapter 10 Izboushka

Elena packed up in a tied handkerchief, a special pirog for Grandmother. It was baked with all the delicious tender pieces of meat Ivan had put aside for her alone. “Your Father will meet us later when he is done discussing with the men.”

Rose noticed her Mother pulling out some more bread and wrapping it. This was smaller. She quickly peeked in at the contents when her mother turned away. It was a pirojki that smelled of mint and fruit. “Mother, those two cakes together are too much for Grandmother to eat.”

“This evening I have something special to show you.” She handed the bread to Rose. “Come along quickly we must not let anyone see.”

Rose was intrigued; her mother had never been secretive about anything.They started through the fields. A different route than they usually took to Grandmother’s house. The evening was nice. The sun was just beginning its downward descent not yet ready to be in bed. It made everything have a lovely warm glow.

“Everything sparkles in the evening Mother. Look at the water, even the grass.” Rose pointed. Elena sighed with a deep nostalgic look.

“When it used to snow it was beautiful in the fields. It looked like a whole different kind of forest. And the world would sparkle all day long and make noises that crunch or whistle, tunes to the wind.” Elena spun as she had not in a long time, like she was Rose’s age.

“Mother do you miss Father Winter?” Rose asked amazed;

“I do not.” Elena said firmly, though her eyes were cloudy. She began to sound as if she were reciting. “Winter is deceiving, its looks are very enticing yet it will cling to you until your heart no longer beats. It will take away everything you love expecting you to carry on. When I think of winter I get a chill.”

Rose saw her mother turn her face away to drop a single tear as was her custom. And then she would shed no more for the rest of the day. Soon her Mother perked up giving her a wistful smile. “I do miss certain things about winter like sliding and building tables and caves of snow.”

Rose stared at her blankly and Elena enthusiastically explained how this was done the rest of the way. Not ever seeing snow, it was very hard for Rose to understand. The best she could make out was that it was like mud. She did not notice that from the fields they were wandering down a grown over path along the edge of the woods. This was the most interesting conversation she had ever had with her mother in her entire life.

“Well we are here.” Elena looked around hesitantly as if she thought they had been followed. “Rose, I have waited a long time to show you this.” Elena pulled back some branches to show a little shrine made of white stones, three wide flat river stones and several smaller. Some dried flowers lay in the little square that was made by them. Elena removed the flowers and took the pirojki from Rose and placed it inside. Speaking in a strange language she prayed, it was very brief, and Rose felt uncomfortable until she finished.

Elena looked at her with a new calm glow instead of her usual nervous energy.

“The reason I waited to show you this is because I wanted you to understand it is a secret. This is a giving thanks shrine built by my Mother long ago. I know that our old deity shrine turned out to be housed by demons. This is different. I would never tear down this shrine. I could never consider it evil for it was built out of love for all life. I fear if I showed this to your Grandmother and Father they would not understand. They would consider me ignorant and the village might think me stupid. If the village thought I was endangering our life they might come up with a punishment that is severe. They could chase away our whole family.”

“Then why come here and do this?” Rose spoke at last.

“Your Grandparents’ bodies were lost. They were dragged away by animals. I consider this my mother’s grave. I have the power to worship deities here yes. I do not, excepting sometimes to give thanks to Fedor who led your Father to me.”

Rose had remembered once her mother trying to tell her that story... Grandmother continually interrupting and shushing her perhaps thinking it inappropriate for a child.

“You would have loved your other Grandmother too.” Her Mother looked back to the shrine seeming to have read her thoughts. “She was fiery, powerful and from a good stock. Her kin were priestesses before they even knew the meaning of the word. If only I could have burned her body properly.”

“If you had stayed with her mother, you would be dead too.” Rose knelt beside her.

“Rose,” Her Mother said sternly. “If you do not wish to do this with me you have a choice. I will not bring you here anymore or teach you the old language. I only wish to be truthful with you and then perhaps someday when I die you may visit this place for me. Only… do not tell anyone.”

Rose considered a moment with her pout set in a funny quizzical manner. “There is a language?”

Elena’s heart filled with joy. Lately she had felt alone and abandoned. Jealousy had crept in at the sight of Rose taking her Grandmother’s hand more eagerly than her own mothers. Perhaps she only had one child yet it was her child. They talked long until the sky grew too dim and she knew they must hurry or be late in meeting her husband on the path. Rose gasped as they ran.

“Here we are love.” Her Mother smiled stopped abruptly and became nervous when she saw Ivan coming up the path.

“Well met wife. Well met daughter.” Ivan did not stop and went right past them expecting them to fall in tow.

Rose thought to herself, “He does not know. We are so close to the edge of the wood he does not think we would dare go all the way in without him.”

Since this part of the walk was routine Rose became comfortable again. She skipped behind her Father as always. It was her Mother Elena who looked terribly out of sorts. Rose realized what her Mother was nervous about. It was that Rose might say something or give it away.

“I will not say anything to Grandmother or Father.” Rose resigned herself. Yet as she thought this thought her nose began to throb terribly right where her Grandmother had pinched it. Elena gave a nervous laugh and Ivan looked at her sideways.

“Dear, do you think these woods look different every time we go to your Mother’s house? It is almost like we take a different path every time.” Elena fidgeted.

“Ah my love you always get so turned around in these woods. It is just the heat from those ovens today that has addled your mind.” His sardonic humor had no mirth in its tone as usual Elena smiled for him anyway and took a few extra steps so she could kiss his cheek as if he had just complimented her instead of calling her witless.

Rose looked around and she felt that somehow her mother was right. Last time they had passed twin ferns and an old tree that had split and twisted around itself. She saw none of it this time and soon they were before Grandmother’s gate.

The gate was taller than Ivan for it was Ivan who built it for her. It creaked something terrible when it was opened and in fact it seemed that the whole fence made noise for it was all metal and jointed in appearance. Even the great painted wooden knobs atop the pikes sometimes gave a false appearance of skull faces to the corner of Rose’s eyes recently, yet when she looked directly they were just soft decoration. It surrounded the whole house not easily seen for it was covered in moss and vines. There were white birch trees that stood like javelins pointing skyward on either side of the path leading up to her home. Their branches swung more freely than any other tree Rose had seen. Once Elena had commented that it looked instead like hair blowing in the wind.

This path split off into three. The two farthest and opposite leading to Grandmother’s private tiny little bath and outhouses on either side. Rose was never allowed to bathe alone least the little Bannik’s (Water imps) come to steal her away. Those roads were still only dirt the straight cobble path in the center had much more care put into it.

Izbushka Father called the main building and claimed that it was the way they rounded the path that caused its appearance to turn and stare at them suspiciously. Outlandish to Rose for it seemed to be built upon stilts, broad beams actually that from a distance looked like the legs of a chicken. And though the house was at least another house high the path led right up to the door. The design was very smooth and the incline not steep at all, just gradual and long from the beginning of the gate until the door. All sorts of herbs, flowers, fruits, vegetables hung drying off of the windows and rafters.

The heavy smell of hickory and incense trickled down from the smoke of the rooftop. When one got closer the strong scents of ginger, liquorice and cinnamon lingered in the air. When the door opened everyone was nearly blasted away from the heat inside. Yet Grandmother was up and about without a sweat. She was always sewing or weaving at her loom or pulling off a pan of fresh cookies from over the heated coals. “Do you come of your own free wills?” She would always ask. In jest her Father would say sulkily, “No.” Rose and her Mother would beam “Yes!” Tonight Elena said nothing and shuttered. With concern her Grandmother scolded.

“Elena you are shivering. I told you not to let that chill follow you.”