Woman of Means by Thom Lemmons

Author:Thom Lemmons [Lemmons, Thom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-78075-1
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

Naturally, Lydia would pick a day when the forum was most crowded. But she desperately needed to see something besides the walls surrounding the courtyard of her house, and despite Felix’s obvious disapproval, she was glad she had insisted on going to the food stalls herself today. The children would be as well tended in the eunuch’s care as in her own, and it would probably be nearly midday before Parmenes would want to nurse again.

Her biggest concern was to be certain she avoided Menander’s older brother, if he was here today. She had no stomach for tolerating the look on his face if he saw her. Lydia doubted there was much chance of running into her mother or sisters; they were far too correct to venture into the forum unless they were in attendance with their husbands on ceremonial business. Now and then, from the corner of her eye she caught a curious glance following her as she made her way across the bustling square. Let them wonder. She needed the fresh air more than she needed to meet their expectations.

Just ahead was her father’s guildhall. Probably better to give the place a wide berth. Since her marriage, her father hadn’t had much to do either with her or with Menander. If he saw her on a festival day, he might give her as much as a gravely polite nod, which she would return. He paid infrequent visits to his grandchildren, and when he did come the occasions seemed to Lydia more like official business than family calls. He was no more than a polite stranger to Hermeia. He might possibly be more involved with Parmenes as he grew older, but Lydia couldn’t honestly say it mattered to her much, one way or the other. She was determined to raise her children alone as long as her husband’s absence made it necessary, and she would sooner leave Thyatira than ask any of them for help.

A group of ragamuffin boys played a stick-and-hoop game near the steps of the Temple of Apollo. Lydia stopped to watch them. Most of them looked eight or nine years old; had they been from better families they would have been at gymnasium. They had bent a green withe into a ring about the diameter of one of their waists. They were formed in two rough lines, and they took turns standing the withe on its edge and batting it back and forth at each other with their sticks. There was much bantering and arguing back and forth about whether the withe had crossed some imaginary line between the players of the other side. Lydia couldn’t imagine how they could ever arrive at any agreement on such a boundary, since the lines constantly snaked back and forth. Now and then, the boys would argue, but they quickly settled their disputes, or ignored them. They were there to play, not to debate. The pursuit was all that mattered.

Lydia felt an upsurge, a sudden, buoying sense of expansiveness and ability so sharp it was almost painful.

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