I scrambled eggs with mushrooms, opened a jar of cinnamon apple slices we’d canned last fall, and cut thick slices of sourdough bread to dip in milk and egg and fry.
“Breakfast for supper, my favorite,” Tay said, as if it were a treat and not the most frugal meal.
Still, the scent that spread through our kitchen was delicious. I tried to bloom my frail tendrils of gratitude into full-blown flowers.
Lidi pushed our kitchen table over to Tay’s bed without being asked. Usually he could join us at the table, but she only moved threechairs over. Something tightened in my chest. I couldn’t bear to be cheerful tonight.
I set the bowls and plates on the table, then said, “I’ve got to tend Carrot and the assholes.”
Goats were almost always assholes.
“Language.” Tay gave a meaningful look toward Lidi.
“Truth’s truth, Tay.” I always called it the way I saw it. I picked up the lantern and made my way into the falling night.
It took me a while to get our critters fed, watered, and bedded down for the night. Curiosity, our ungrateful cat, wove between my feet as I made my way back to the house. I almost tripped, then picked her up and snuggled her warm little body close. “You just want a free ride, huh?”
The cat did not admit to her wrongdoings.
I had rescued her from dogs—despite my own deep-seated terror of wading into their snarling attack—and now she rewarded me by being an ungrateful, lazy thing that made friends with mice. She alternated between sitting in the sunshine and lying in front of the fire. But I still kissed the top of her head and nuzzled my chin between her ears as the two of us re-entered the front door. I closed it with my heel and set her down on the floor.
Only my dish was left on the table, the lantern burning alongside it.
Mam sat in the rocking chair in front of the fire, rocking back and forth. At least Tay was clearly wearing a new tunic. He slumped on the freshly laundered pillowcases with his eyes closed while our mother read out loud to him. Lidi lay on her stomach in front of the fire, paging through one of my favorite childhood books, looking at all the pictures.
Lidi looked up at me, her face lighting up, then scrambled to her feet. “Cara, can I do your hair?”
“Let her eat, Lidi,” Mam chided.
“It’s fine,” I said, smiling at Lidi. “I’d rather be pretty.”
I sank to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, then ate the cold, soggy fried bread with my fingers while Lidi bustled behind me. First she combed out my hair, then began to braid it. Her fingers were deft despite how small she was, and I felt the warm tingle of her magic on myscalp and the back of my neck as she braided. Flowers were blooming in my hair.
By the time she was done, Lidi was yawning. I looked in the mirror to admire myself for her sake, then kissed her goodnight. She climbed up the ladder into the loft, where we shared a bed.
Mam kept reading to Tay, her voice soft.
“You used to do voices,” I said, stretching out in front of the fire. Curi was sleeping on the hearth beside me. She raised her head to regard me suspiciously, as if I might take her place permanently. “Are we too old for voices?”
Mam humored me, but when enough time had passed that Lidi must have fallen asleep—with an ease born of innocence that I couldn’t imagine I’d ever possessed—she closed the book and set it down.
“I’m not going to argue with the two of you anymore,” she said. “I’m taking Lidi to the Fae. Tay can’t wait much longer for the cure.”
“I’m finding another way,” I said, shaking my head. “Tay can get better, and Lidi can keep her magic. Think what the farm could be like with her magic!”
“I don’t care about flowers blooming when my son is dying, Cara,” Mam said fiercely.
“Both of you, be careful,” Tay said. “Be easy with each other.”
“You’ve lived in this dreamworld of yours long enough, Cara.” Mam’s voice was softer, clearly trying to heed Tay’s request.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to Tay.” I lowered my voice to a whisper to make sure I didn’t snap. For Tay’s sake, not hers. “I just need more time.”
“We need Fae magic, and we all know what that costs.”
There was a lump in my throat, and I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Mam rose and reached toward me, then seemed to see something in my face and changed her mind. “I’m going to bed. I love you, Cara. But even you can’t change the world.”
