“No.”
His hands lingered on my thigh before they slipped away. The sounds of his footsteps retreated for the door before it clicked again, marking the solitude of my morning.
The dress was clean, but I could see a slight shift in hue hidden in the dark wool garments. No one could possibly notice it, but I would.Iwould notice, and it would torment me until I finally burned them in the furnace.
I dug through the pockets, feeling around the wool until I reached the leather casing. A breath of relief as it surfaced from the fabric in my hand.
I pried it open with shaking fingers, my syringe and vial of medicine intact, unharmed, and unused.
The coach ride was only thirty minutes, but every minute was torture the closer I got to the place I called home, now only a solemn reminder of who we’d lost. Not even a healthy dose of venom could calm the impending confrontation.
I practiced looking sad, rather than anxious. I did, genuinely, care. I just couldn’t bear the thought of them thinking I didn’t careenough. To appear apathetic was to endanger your standing in a very delicate social balance. Appearances mattered more than anything in the matter of mourning.
The first thing I noticed was a gathering in the field behind the house. I often joked that I wore black in case of a funeral, but I had never planned for that to be the case.
The girls were gathered over a mound of freshly turned dirt, no stone to mark it.
Seeing them all cloaked in black with draping veils over their heads made them look like priestesses of long ago, a bonding of trauma and reverence.
As I approached the gathering, the crowd parted solemnly until all I saw was Rebecca positioned like an altar before the unmarked graves. Her eyes were not angry or sad, but empty.She read from a small Bible fitted in the palm of her hand, the page marked by a baby blue ribbon. Sending the soul away with the words of its own book, the first time it left Addie’s nightstand was to be read aloud to honor her.
A terror rose deep inside me; there was nothing more dangerous than a woman’s rage, especially when it is presented calmly like the stale air before a hurricane.
One by one, the girls climbed into several coaches that awaited nearby to take them away. Rebecca was last to move, closing the small Bible and holding it close, as Adeline had done. Her eyes lifted, and I could see the reflection of my dark figure isolated by the snow in her dark eyes.
After a solemn departure, I went to say goodbye to the structure that had kept us safe these past few years, the first one I had called home in a long time. The place had turned gray without the teeming women within the household. We hadn’t been there long, but there were outlines on the walls where picture frames had hung, or the pale ghosts of rugs lining the floors. All signs of a house well-loved.
“Are you ready?” Phoebe spoke from the door, the wind whistling against the frame as it raced in to greet me. Her question held a certain gravity, not only asking about our departure, but what came next.
My finger traced over a spot on the wall where an oval frame once hung.
This house was full of ghosts, and they would follow me to no end.
“Yes.” I clasped my fingers together, breathing against them for warmth as I approached her.
Those green eyes searched for something before she placed both hands on the sides of my face. “You are so brave, Alina.”
“Do you say that out of admiration, or fear?”
She didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself.
I expected the girls to be angry with me, but I suppose it was an impractical fear since I had done what they asked.
I watched the buzzing of activity from the stairs, making myself comfortable against the banister. I held a book and a pen, but I could not focus on any annotation while I watched my new environment, like a relocated zoo animal.
All the doors were open, including the front door, so we could sweep any dirt or leaves out of the building. The windows were wide open to prevent any stuffiness as we tidied.
There were enough rooms where the girls could have one to themselves, though many chose rooms close to their friends and feeding partners. There was a high frequency to the air; it made me feel a little better as I basked in it. It was enough to be in the presence of a lighter mood, even if I was not taking part.
I could see Rebecca and Mary in the first room to the left of the stairs; they were covering the bed in linens and dragging around chairs to see where they would fit.
Two girls clumsily coordinated as they decided on the best way to carry the couch to the second floor.
In the foyer area, three girls were hovering around Luka. He had one of the girls sitting on his shoulder so she could reach the stained glass above the doorway to the hall entrance. The other two were holding tools as the one on his shoulder scraped away paint that covered the beautiful stained glass.
A group had already worked on scoring the crust of old wallpaper, scraping as they scrubbed vinegar water to loosen it. The hinges on the doors needed oiling, window clasps were missing in a few rooms, and the carpets were hiding suspicious stains until we could survey the total damage to the floors.
John even came to help carry in the furniture that was delivered in the afternoon.
