“It’s a weapon. Ask mama about what our grandfather used on his enslaved people in the Caribbean.”
Ester came closer and grabbed my hands. “I’m saying this all wrong. And we’ve treated you badly.”
“I was happier in my cottage in the country. Alone with just a servant and Chris. My eyesight was stronger, and the walls were smaller. No one came crashing into my room to tell me what they needed to say to absolve their guilt.”
Ester’s lip trembled.
I was being harsh, but years of living under a cloud were hard to shake.
“Ruth, why did you come back? I thought youwantedto be with us.”
“Mr. McAllister said I’m not going to get better. My field of vision, as he put it, keeps growing smaller. It will become nonexistent. Chris needs more supervision. He needs people who can watch him as he grows. I thought my place was here. It’s not.”
“We’re not ogres. Are we?”
I rose from the mattress, took my sister’s arm, and pointed to an empty spot below the bedframe. “Tell me what you see here.”
“Nothing. The room is cleaned and dusted.”
“You should see bed slippers, Ester.”
My sister’s brow scrunched up. “Mrs. Fitterwall moved them? She probably put them away so you wouldn’t trip.”
“I know where I put them. It is specific and purposeful. Now Iwillfall, hunting for them.”
“The housekeeper didn’t mean anything.”
“No one ever means anything. Everyone is trying to decide what is best for me. I need my independence before it’s gone. I need my own now. Two years of this is enough.”
“Ruth, I know we keep doing the wrong things, but we love you. How do we make things right?”
I sank back on my bed and covered my legs in Wycliff’s cape. I recited my list of things I’m grateful for in my head. “I don’t know.”
Ester bent onto her knees and was soon out of the focus of the weak lenses. Her blobby image was at the closet door. Then she returned with my puce satin bed slippers. My one frivolity.
She handed them to me and stood. “Everything you’ve mentioned is understandable, but why bring a man you just met here, near Chris? Why do you trust him?”
Why do I?
Was it a gut instinct?
Or something much simpler and coarse, like the feel of his hands on my face. The rich smell of his cologne.
I wasn’t that shallow.
It was Adam. Some of the words this Wycliff used sounded like him. We’d courted for six months, always walking and talking together, his hand in mine, so many soft caresses. The blur of Wycliff could be Adam with a bad, bad cold. That wasn’t a bad thing, not when he thought me truthful.
“This makes no sense, Ruth. You’re not reckless, not anymore.”
“Ester, he believed me at first sight, that I was Adam’s wife. He didn’t ask for proof.”
“He’s a man carrying a whip. You’re not stupid.”
I stayed silent on my bed. I pretended that I was alone and hoped Ester would go. I didn’t want words with my sister. I loved her deeply, but my hurt would erupt and burn her like volcano’s lava.
“I didn’t mean that, Ruth. I want to protect you.”
I took off my lenses. My limited sight had made her disappear.
