“You should have seen the nest Violet made for herself,” Malcolm replied. “Now that was luxury.”
Elias smiled. His face had thinned, and the smile turned up the edges of his lips so he looked almost like a fox, prowling for small prey. “Oh, Vi’s had her share of hard travels, haven’t you, darling?”
The Wise brothers both turned to look at her. Violet had tied her hair back and wrapped herself more fully in her coat and borrowed sweater. Malcolm thought the trunk with that sweater had been taken off in Buffalo, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
The sweater’s not important, he told himself, but he would grasp at anything to release the tension of being in the room with Elias and Violet, and the secret that hung in the air.
“If you’re expecting me to greet you with open arms, you oughta get past that right now,” Violet said.
Malcolm stiffened. His future with Violet had been so close he could taste it—a trip to Reno to divorce Elias, a quick wedding, and they would look backward in later years at the way Elias’s boyish charm and immaturity had been the thing that had brought them together. Now this.
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” Elias said.
“That’s big of you.”
“I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. I’m a terrible husband.”
The goat bleated loudly.
Elias jerked a thumb toward it. “Even he agrees.”
If he thought Violet would laugh, he’d misjudged.
“I’m sorry Maggie’s gone,” she said, gaze locked on his, unwavering. “She treated me like another daughter. I loved her for that. Loved her so much that over the past few months, with her candle burning low, I lied to her about you constantly. That you’d sent me a love letter. That you’d be home soon. That you had called while she was sleeping to check on her.”
The train rattled over a rough section of track and began to curve northward. Elias leaned into the curve, trying to keep from shifting off the crate. He looked silly, almost playful, jarringly discordant with the demands of the moment. Malcolm wanted to speak, but Violet’s words had put the spotlight on Elias.
Tired and jaundiced and scruffy, nevertheless, he seemed about to try to escape recrimination yet again. It had worked so often in the past, and the dimples were still there. Malcolm could almost predict what his brother would say next.You were there for her, Vi. And you were there for me. I’m so grateful. I really don’t deserve you.
Malcolm had heard this kind of shit from Elias his whole life. He cared for his brother, but the ragged reality of combat had lowered his threshold for bullshit, and bullshitters.
Elias stunned him.
“You don’t know the first goddamn thing about growing up with Maggie Wise as your mother,” he said, almost a growl. His eyes flared in the poorly lit baggage car. “So she treated you like a daughter and your own mother set herself on fire, so you figure Maggie gave you something. Let me tell you something: She treated you like a servant, the way she did almost everyone, and that’s what you became. She sure as hell didn’t treat you like you were her own child, because she never made you want to scream and run off to join the fucking circus.”
Violet looked as if he’d struck her.
“That’s enough,” Malcolm said, rising to his feet. He didn’t realize his fists were clenched until he saw Elias’s gaze flicker toward his hands, taking note.
Elias didn’t rise from the crate. “You’re going to hit me now, little brother? That what they teach you in the army—to mind other people’s business?”
He stood and crossed to the crate that held Maggie’s body. Went down on one knee, both hands on top of the crate. “I’ve got plenty to grieve, Mal. All the things I never said to her, the good stuff and the bad. All the times I should have told her how she crushed the both of us by being so damn cold, and all the times I loved her anyway. Jennie had it better—she was Maggie’s little project. Hell, she was the only one allowed to call herMomma. Even you, Mal… you were her little golden boy. When she felt like doting on anyone, it was you. The baby of the family.”
Elias turned and sat on the floor, back to Maggie’s crate. The circles beneath his eyes had grown darker, his yellowed skin even paler. “I’ve been chasing freedom my whole life, Violet. I won’t say I didn’t do wrong by you, but…”
His words trailed off, and he dropped his gaze. Malcolm heard a scratching from inside the crate and thought it was in his own head until he noticed the frown on Elias’s brow, and the way his brother glanced over his shoulder at the crate.
Violet went to an unbroken window. She leaned on the frame and stared out at the rain. “Let’s just get this done. We’ve still got a long way to go.”
Elias slapped the floor. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway? The way Keates told it, Maggie gave this job to Malcolm. He’s a big war hero, remember? He doesn’t need you to hold his hand, so why are you here?”
Malcolm fought the urge to look at Violet, but he failed. Elias caught the glance, and his frown deepened.
“Elias, I—” Malcolm began.
“Me, Malcolm, and Maggie,” Violet said. “We were a family. You could have been a part of that, but you chose not to be. If anyone’s presence on this trip isn’t necessary, it’s yours.”
Anger simmered on Elias’s face.
