A few steps away, she turned back to catch him staring. “Can I come back tomorrow?” she asked, her eyes full of hope.
“Not if everything is covered in ice.”
“Oh.” She lost her smile. “Right. So…”
“Come if it isn’t,” he said in an effort to put the light back in her face.
She nodded before heading off again, leaving him to finish his vines cold and alone and hoping, despite himself, that she’d return the next day.
4
There was a different kind of excitement as Abby headed out into the frosty morning. The buzz of fear and anxiety hadn’t subsided, despite the hours she’d spent praying for forgiveness the night before. But beneath that, a bubble floated in her chest, and it felt an awful lot like happiness.
It must have been the idea of leaving again—on her own terms. It could have also been the work, which, though difficult, had been satisfying, the view so lovely andnew. It couldn’t possibly be Grape Man himself—the way he didn’t waste words or movement, the way his eyes, an icy gray-blue that was almost warm, met hers. How he’d insisted on giving her the sweater and the coffee.
Out of habit, she sped up as she passed Brigid and Benji’s cabin. Things had gotten unbearable with Brigid recently and the last thing she needed was a confrontation.
She’d just let her shoulders sag with relief when the door opened behind her. Too late.
Abby’s shoulders tightened as she veered slightly off her path. If it was Brigid, it was best not to lead her to the hole in the fence. But maybe, if she was lucky, it was just Benji heading off to work.
“Heading over to the fence?” came Brigid’s voice. No such luck.
Abby slowed. “It’s my job.” She forced a placid smile to her face and slowed her steps. If she stayed calm, maybe the woman would leave.
“I’ll bet you enjoy it, don’t you? Walking around all day with your head in the clouds.”
Abby stopped, breathing hard, and gave the expected response. Brigid would, after all, report any mistakes to Isaiah. “There’s nothing to enjoy. It’s my duty. I do it because Isaiah decrees it.”
“You’re just too good for the kitchens, aren’t you, Abigail? And the nursery? You’re above the rest of us, aren’t you? Wed to Hamish, your mother joined with Isaiah? You must feel special.” The words were spoken so kindly Abby could almost pretend she’d misheard.
“Special?No. No, I didn’t ask to work alone like this.”
“Of course not. You’d have preferred working with the men,” Brigid said with false innocence. It felt like a punch to the gut every single time.
“I’m not…” She searched for the right words to say. “Why are you… I never hated you, Brigid, the way you seem to hate me. I only wish that you could see—”
“Hate? Oh, no. No, you’ve got it all wrong, Abigail. There is nothing but love. Iloveyou…Sister.”
They had seemed like sisters, once upon a time. Back when Abby’d first gotten here, they’d been kids, singing together, loving each other. So proud to be part of this important mission here on the mountain. Something so much bigger than themselves.
The knowledge of everything she’d lose when she left was suddenly crushing, heavy and sad.
Stepping forward, Abby put a hand on Brigid’s arm, that place where this woman had also received the Mark. “We’ll always be sisters, Brigid. No matter what happens. You know that, right?”
The woman’s blue eyes focused on Abby’s hand where it touched her sacred brand, before lifting to narrow on Abby’s face. She pulled away with a jerk.
“Are you pure of soul, Abigail Merkley?” The censure behind her words made Abby blink and lurch away. How could Brigid possibly know what she’d done? Maybe shehadseen Abby cut through the fence. Seen her speak to the neighbor. “Eve in her garden of evil, tempting my husband from his righteous path. And him just achild.” Brigid advanced, hissing, her words ridiculous in the face of reality—that Abby and Benji were the same age, that they’d both been fifteen when they’d done…things together. And that he’d been just as present as she. He’d touched her body as surely as she’d touched his, no matter where the blame had been cast.
“You don’t deserve the Mark,” Brigid continued, her face livid with anger that Abby couldn’t understand. Why hold on to it after all these years? Why seek her out, if it was to express this kind of hatred? “Now a childless widow, with no man to tame your tongue, to beat your baser urges from you. Even Hamish, God rest his blessed soul, succumbed to your power. How’d you do that to him—make him change his mind in the end? Was it even the Almighty who took him, or did you—”
“Don’t you say another word,” Abby broke in. She took another step back from the woman, whose hostility was like an infection, worse than the cancer that had sickened Hamish before the end. “I swear to everything that is holy, I’ll…” Gracious, what would she do? She had no threats in her. There wasn’t even hatred when she looked for it, just a deep sadness for everything they’d lost.
Brigid stood, mouth tight and white around the edges, while her cheeks shone like two angry red flags.
“I’m sorry you lost your first baby, Brigid. But it wasn’t my fault. Now you and Benji have little Jeremiah, who’s—”
“Hush your mouth,” hissed Brigid. “Don’t you mention my son’s name.”
