I return to the main part of the house. Maggie and Willa are working on a puzzle in the sitting room, and Evie has moved a chair to the foyer, where she can keep an eye on the front door while she reads. I insisted the girls continue with their lessons in the morning, but it is midafternoon now, nearly the time they would be coming home from school if classes had not been canceled.
They look up at me as I enter the room, their expressions a mix of boredom and uneasiness. It occurs to me that maybe the girls and I should remain in Quakertown not just until the flu passes but until after the war is over and Thomas returns. What is keeping us in the city, really? I am no closer to putting Death back in its proper place than I was when we first arrived ten months ago, even with all my ministrations to the dead, and the arrival of a merciless killing flu. My easy familiarity with it remains.
I look at my children—my flesh and blood—and my arms ache for Henry, gone from me for nearly a year now. What will my companion do if I take my girls and speed back to where my baby boy lies? Will it notice I have left when there is so much else to occupy itself with here?
What will it do if I stay?
There is a terrible moral rending when so many people start dying all at once and bodies begin to accumulate like plowed snow on the curbs. My girls are surely feeling this injury to humanity even though they perhaps cannot name it outright. I should have taken them the first day the schools were closed.
“I’m thinking we should go to Quakertown to sit out the flu,” I say, and my voice trembles a little.
“What do you mean?” Maggie asks, her brow puckered.
“I mean, your papa and I think it’s wise to go to Grandma andGrandpa’s until the flu has passed. Just until the flu is gone. Unless... unless we want to stay longer.”
“Why would we stay longer?” Evelyn studies my face, looking for unspoken clues as to why I suddenly want us to flee. She won’t want to leave her school and the downtown library; Willa won’t want to abandon her friend Flossie; and even Maggie, who has had the most trouble making new friends, won’t want to leave the city, the Sutcliffs, and her attic room.
“Well, then, until the flu has passed,” I say.
“Will we have to go to school there?” Willa asks, and I tell her not to worry about that right now.
Maggie and Evie wear twin looks of uneasiness at the thought of returning to the country life they left nearly a year ago, and for who knows how long.
“Uncle Fred said this can’t last forever,” I announce, wanting them to hear those words like I heard them.Itcan’t last forever.
I send them to their rooms to pack, and I head to the kitchen to take inventory of our stores. If need be, I’ll go to the market before we leave to make sure the shelves are well stocked for Fred. The restaurant will be busy until sundown. I’ll wait to place the call to my parents until then.
I open the pantry and step into its shadows to count the jars and packages. Alone, but not alone.
I do not fear Death for myself, but I will not allow its cold fingers to touch my girls. Not even in a slow caress.
They are mine,I whisper.
