His gaze shifted to Julian’s face. I wondered what he saw there. “Not by anything but time.”
For all the House had trained us, they hadn’t given us guidance on how to work through grief or anger—or even love. “I’ve never wished I had a mother particularly often,” I said, surprised to find tears wetting my lashes. I scrubbed them away with one hand. “But today I think … I could use the help. If that’s what mothers do.”
Ezra met my gaze with a soft, tired smile that felt different. Something usually kept under lock and key. “It is, if you’re lucky. Ithink your mother must have been good and strong.” His wistful smile shifted to the grin I knew, the one I could see even with my eyes closed.
But his grin faded as his attention turned to Julian. Scooting closer, he appeared to try to get into his line of sight. “They’ve told me there’s room for us in town, and someone’s got a wagon to carry us there. But you’ll have to get up to lay Maggie to rest before we can sleep,” he said with terrible gentleness.
I remained quiet, feeling as if I were intruding on something private despite the fact that my hand was currently resting on Julian’s head. Julian shifted, slowly sitting up. He shuddered with a deep, cleansing sigh that made my ribs ache.
“Thank you for making arrangements,” Julian said stiffly, the formal words at odds with the redness of his eyes and the wild tangle of his hair.
“Come on.” Ezra stood with some effort, took Julian’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. I remained seated, observing the silent conversation that happened as they looked at each other for a long moment. With an exhale that sounded like surrender, Julian tucked himself into Ezra’s arms and allowed himself to be held. Something eased in my chest at the way Julian fit into Ezra’s embrace like he belonged there.
Julian glanced down, offering me his hand. When he pulled me up by my wrist, we stood in an awkward circle. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
I could only nod, not trusting my voice. Now that Ezra had told us we’d have somewhere to sleep, my body wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest for days. With the heavy exhaustion came the feeling that I might start to cry and never stop. It was absurd. These weren’t my losses. I needed to hold myself together, give Julian something solid to cling to.
When Julian began to walk toward the grave sites, Ezra lingered and brushed his elbow against mine gently. “You’ve got a stubborn look in your eyes.”
“I’m trying to stay on my feet.”
He let out a breathy shadow of a laugh. “Just a bit longer. If either of us swoons now, I fear they’ll leave us behind.”
“They will certainly leave you. I’m a bit more portable.”
When he took my hand, I flinched, and he let go quickly. We both looked down at our palms and the sticky, ragged blisters there. Mine were worse—my hands were used to a particular sort of work. “I’ll find something to make a salve for that,” he murmured.
“Thank you.” Acknowledging the wounds awakened my pain. Both hands throbbed with every beat of my heart.
We were the last to walk up to the grave site—four gaping holes in the dark soil. Maggie lay swaddled in a casket that smelled like fresh sap, and Julian stood beside it silently, swaying every so often and catching himself.
A woman who resembled the girl playing the fiddle put her hand on the girl’s shoulder and looked at Julian. “Maggie spoke of you like a son. I know she’d welcome any words you had to say.”
I looked at the faces around us, all kind-eyed and somber. Faces streaked with soot and dirt and sweat. People of all ages—one woman with a babe strapped to her back and a man so old, his skin hung in folds. I knew, to my bones, that these were good people. We’d never have a proper way to thank them for this—for bearing witness to Julian’s grief and for sharing their own.
Julian nodded, looking back over his shoulder for a moment, lost and unsteady. He found me and Ezra in the crowd and straightened, relief bare in his eyes.
“Maggie Taylor is—was my mentor,” he started, slow to find his voice. When he went on, it deepened to the sure, confident tone I associated with him. Except now there was no knife-edge of condescension. “She began exchanging letters with me many years ago, when I was struggling with my beliefs and much in need of her wisdom.” Though he wisely did not say where he’d been or what kind of wisdom she’d offered him, I could picture it. A young Child of Industry too clever toaccept what he was taught, too inquisitive to resist looking between the lines of every repetitive doctrine.
“Maggie’s mind—she is the most brilliant person I know. The work she’s done will shape our future for generations to come. She believed that people are capable of tremendous kindness. Science is a discipline of curiosity. Curiosity …” Grief thinned his voice before he found it once more. “And love. Maggie taught me that, and I will never forget it.”
The words made my heart trip. Of all the things I’d expected him to say, none were this. Despite the pain from my blisters, I found Ezra’s hand, and we stood closer, drawn together in what felt like a shared desire to prop Julian up.
Time moved slowly after that, the group from town using long ropes to ease Maggie’s casket into the ground. They filled the grave quickly, several working to heap black soil onto the pale wood. Julian shoveled diligently, mouth set in a hard line, eyes dry but anguished. Ezra worked beside him, neither relenting until a smooth mound covered the grave.
The fiddle wailed.
As dusk gave way to night, Francis found me and ushered me to an open wagon. My arms trembled as I crawled into it with her help. I was dimly aware of hunger and thirst, but more than anything, I ached for Ezra and Julian. When they arrived, staggering and quiet, I reached for them, and we sank into the bed of hay that smelled like sweetgrass and sunshine. The wagon began to move, bumpy on the rough road. Where we touched, I felt a faint vibration, like a gentle purr or a low hum. I was too tired to ask them if they felt it, too.
Bracketed by their arms, I turned onto my back. The sky stretched over us forever, every cloud painted vivid scarlet with the setting sun. Full and empty at once, I cried silently, rocked by the wagon’s relentless sway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After sleeping for a day on a cot at the back of the general store, I sat on the dusty front porch, my hands bandaged and my heart bruised.
Upon waking, we’d agreed to make our way to Nikola as soon as we could. Julian was eager to help her continue her work—and more than that, he clearly wanted to protect her. Together, they would prepare for next year’s Continental Exposition. In a way, they’d be safer once they debuted synthetic radiance. Thousands of people would see their work. The House of Industry couldn’t silence that many people.
Though I planned on making Julian teach me what he had been studying all this time, I couldn’t help but think of Maggie Taylor’s final words. Was I meant to help build something new?
