by Everly Frost
“Thank you, Collette.”
I missed Victoria’s cold hands. If only she were here. Then my brother would not have stony eyes and a weeping heart.
I picked up the pot of makeup that Aunt Alice gave me. I thought about dabbing it onto my cheek to cover the scar, but I put it down. I accepted that it was part of me now.
As I passed Samuel’s room, Edith cried and I paused, catching a glimpse of her as she knelt by his bed, clutching at the bedclothes. I sank against the wall outside Sam’s room, pulled my knees to my chest, and listened to her choking sobs for a long time, until Aunt Alice came to get me for the funeral.
He looked so small, lying in his coffin. I remembered him stalking the edge of the garden and staring past the surface of the dam as he waited patiently for fish.
Edith huddled near me on the hard bench. My only remaining sister was swathed in black with sunglasses on, but even with her eyes covered she wouldn’t cry in the church in front of all those people. Still, her shoulders slumped and her hands wrung themselves over and over.
For the first time in my life I wanted to comfort her—we’d both lost something now—but I couldn’t.
So we sat apart, Timothy and Dad on either side of us. I listened to the Minister, but didn’t hear his words. Instead, Samuel’s footsteps echoed behind me as we ran along the hallway and stopped outside our mother’s room. His little hand sought mine as we stood there, waiting for her to turn, waiting for her to look at us, waiting forever for something that never happened. And then I heard his boyish shout, telling me he would protect me, and I remembered the fire in his eyes.
I didn’t want him to protect me. I wanted him to be safe from me. Safe from the water in the dam. Safe from the gun in his hand. Safe from the other me and the shadows that gathered thickly now.
Maybe if I thought hard enough and went back far enough, there would be no gunshot and blood dripping down boyish fingers. There would be no storm, and no thin red line around Rebecca’s throat. There would be no screaming in the attic and no snarling face in the mirror and maybe my eyes wouldn’t be blue at all, but pale green like Dad’s or brown like Edith’s. Maybe I could escape from that blue room, once and for all, escape from the murky trees and not have to fight myself free over and over again.
Maybe the terror would end and I would run down to the dam. Finally, I would fly with the dragonflies into the center of the water and float—just me and the beating wings—until I sank to the rocky bottom and disappeared under the silt. And then it would be over.
With a sob, I rose from my seat and stumbled to the coffin, collapsing next to it with my hand on the edge, wanting Sam to wake up, wanting to tell him not to take the gun.
He didn’t have to.
I would do it instead.
I faltered from the grave, vaguely aware of my father, his face drawn and stretched and his movements jerky—and Timothy, his mouth grim and his eyes blank. I searched for Aunt Alice, but I couldn’t find her. I fidgeted with the sleeves of my black dress for a long time, tugging so much that I poked a hole in the material.
All of the townspeople were there, milling around, murmuring words of condolence. Most of them would travel out to our house for the wake, bringing offerings of meals, cake, and tear-stained handkerchiefs. Some of them kept their distance and I heard their whispers—two deaths in as many months.
Unlucky, some of them said.
Cursed, said others.
We would pile into the car soon, but Alice was still missing, and I looked for her away from the rows of graves, behind a monolith and a high hedge. A giant, black crow lifted off the hedge as I passed, and I watched it a moment. Then I saw her standing near a copse of trees, but she wasn’t alone.
I didn’t understand what I saw, at first. There were two people, standing together. One of them was my aunt, the other…
I took a step back, my hand pressing against my chest.
My aunt’s rosy cheeks glowed. She reached up and stroked a gloved finger down Nathan’s cheek. They looked so close, so familiar. He bent down and kissed her and, from the angle of their heads, I couldn’t tell if he kissed her on the lips or on the cheek.
I wanted to race up to them, hit him, yell, scream, and curse him for his betrayal, but I did none of those things. I shrank into myself. I couldn’t confront them there, not then, not when we’d just buried my little brother.
When Aunt Alice glided up to me at the wake, I was colder than I’d ever been before. I didn’t know how the room didn’t frost with icicles.
She laid a delicate hand on my forearm, gentle fingers that now felt like claws to me as I pictured them floating over Nathan’s cheek.
“Yes, Aunt Alice?” I drew myself up to full height and peered at her from beneath my eyelashes. The conversation around us was quiet, stifled, and I kept my voice down.
She sniffled. A white handkerchief fluttered at her eyes and nose and vanished into her fist.
“Dearest,” she began, “I know this isn’t a good time to tell you, but I’ve decided to return to England.”
I jerked with surprise. “I thought you were going to the city?”
“Ever since I came here, there’s been nothing but tragedy, and I feel… I feel that somehow I am responsible. As though I brought it with me.” She stared through the window at the gray garden and at the gardener standing like a statue.
“Rebecca, Victoria, and now Samuel. I have to go before I cause you any more grief.”
My lips twisted. “But you already have.”
Chapter 21
AUNT ALICE’S MOUTH trembled, the fingers on my arm shook, and she snatched her hand to her chest.
“Caroline.” Her eyes went from the downward pull of my eyebrows to the terse set of my lips. “You’re angry with me? Please don’t be angry with me. You think I’m abandoning you, don’t you? Because I asked you to come with me to the city and now I’m leaving, instead.”
I choked.
“I don’t want to go, Caroline, not after… not after…” Her head dropped into her hands and her voice became muffled behind them. “Nothing good can come of this.”
She pulled her face upward and held my eyes for a moment. “I’ve left a gift in the living room. I hope it will make things clearer for you.”
She jumped to her feet, disturbing Mrs. Drew and almost causing an upset with a teapot. In a blur of black, Aunt Alice disappeared from the room, her footsteps running up the stairs drowned in the din of conversation.
I snagged Mrs. Drew’s arm as the older woman steadied the hot tea and cold biscuits. “When is she leaving?”
The older lady regarded me with gray eyes. “Tomorrow, Miss Caroline. I dare say it will be a quiet place with the cattlemen gone, too. Your father is sending them all away. And Master Timothy is to go with the racehorse.”
“Timothy’s going with Magenta? When? Is she going tomorrow, too?”
Mrs. Drew wobbled. “Forgive me, Miss Caroline, I understand it was arranged last night that Master Timothy would take Magenta, since Mr. Fisher declined the request to go and all.”
I turned away at the mention of Nathan, and the housekeeper fluttered a moment before moving on through the room of people with her tray of biscuits.
I sank back into the chair. Something burned in the pit of my stomach, something hot and confused. Rebecca and Samuel were dead. I had seen my aunt with the man I loved. Now my only living brother was being sent away, no doubt to beat the memory of Victoria out of him.
And what of me? Was I to stay here, after all, now that I wanted to escape for the first time in my life?
Ignoring the crowd of people, I stormed into the empty living room to see Aunt Alice’s gift.
I stopped and stared. She’d hung paintings on the walls: paintings of us.
Astonished, I moved past them, touching their fine frames. We were all there: Dad, Edith, Rebecca, Timothy, me, and Samuel. Each one caught us as if she’d taken a photo: Dad, with that stubborn edge to his jaw; E
dith, with her brown eyes like a shadow on the earth they resembled; Rebecca, her delicate features hiding the hint of fire; Timothy—the old Timothy—with the smile of the fearless; and Samuel, his boyish innocence shining in dark eyes.
Then there was me.
Behind me in the painting, the cloudy sky boiled and a breeze blew my hair across my right shoulder. I stood on grass, with fields of shivery green behind me. My lips parted and I was smiling. But of everything, it was the eyes that I noticed—big and round and blue. For a heart-pounding moment, I stared at the girl before me.
There was one thing missing, and it was a scar. I took a step away. It wasn’t a picture of me, after all.
It was a picture of my mother.
I charged upstairs to pound on my aunt’s door.
She opened it as though she expected me. She said nothing as I threw myself inside her room.
“I saw you.”
She blinked at me. Now, she seemed surprised.
“I saw you with Nathan. You kissed him.”
She looked away a moment to sit down in the dainty white chair, half turned to me. “Is that why you’re angry? Not because I’m leaving?”
If I had something to throw, I would have thrown it. “You kissed him.”
“It was goodbye, Caroline.” She looked at her hands, clicking her fingernails together.
“Goodbye? How long has it been going on?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” For the first time, she seemed puzzled. “Wait, Caroline… are you and Nathan…?”
At the look on my face, she clutched the dresser. “Of all the things I knew about this house, you hid that well. Oh, I knew he brought you home that day, and he helped you again after, but I didn’t think…” She was very pale as she turned to me, her whole body demanding. “How far has it gone?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Caroline. You saw what your father did to Victoria. What do you think he would do to you?”
“I don’t care what he’d do! I want to know about you.” My voice approached a shout, and I imagined the sound of conversation downstairs had stopped. I swallowed my anger just enough to level my words. “I want to know how long.”
“Oh, Caroline, no, you’ve misinterpreted. Why, of course, you have.” She hurried to me and tried to take my hands, but I snatched them away, stepping back from her, catching my feet on the rug.
“There was… A terrible thing happened and he needed a job—and to get out of the city. It’s not my place to tell you about it, if he’s chosen not to. But I was the one who convinced your father to take him on. I told Nathan that I was leaving, and he wished me well and kissed my cheek.”
“He… No, he kissed your mouth.”
“No, my cheek, Caroline. You can’t have seen it correctly.”
She stared at me, suddenly frozen. Her eyes went wide. A look of horror burst over her face. “Oh, Caroline. What did you see?”
I couldn’t believe she was asking me again. “I saw you with Nathan!”
“No, Caroline. I don’t mean now. I don’t mean Nathan. I mean when you were a little girl.”
I shook my head. I wanted to leap out of my skin.
“You saw something, didn’t you? When you were very little. Something you didn’t understand, but you knew it was wrong… You knew it was bad.”
Her eyes continued to search my face as she waited for me to answer.
“I have…” I took a deep breath, trying to make my legs move. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She dropped her head, her hand going over her murmuring mouth. “What to do? What should I do?”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to turn this around. You kissed Nathan and now you won’t admit it.”
She stared at me. Her eyes grew wider. For an instant, her hand shot out to touch my cheekbone, and my feet were too tangled to run. “Oh, Caroline. Is she in there? Is Meredith in there with you?”
“What?”
The word froze my lips. My breath frosted the air. The other me, the one inside my head, the strong one, burst out of me so fast that I spun inside myself.
My voice—her voice—was so rusty it burned my throat. “It’s all your fault.”
Aunt Alice’s voice changed. “Don’t do this. Please, Meredith. It isn’t happening again. It isn’t. I would never hurt your daughter like that. You don’t have to do this. Please, dearest.”
I recoiled. “Stop it!”
But I caught my face in the mirror, and it had no scar, and in that moment, I knew.
I wasn’t myself anymore. I was her.
It was my mother’s voice, her soul, screaming long and hard inside my head, trying to be heard, trying to rip me open and escape. I’d been her for a long while, maybe since Rebecca died, maybe even before that.
She smiled at me in the mirror.
My legs wobbled. I twisted, righted myself, and lurched to the door, fumbling at the doorknob.
“Caroline, if you’re still in there, look at the paintings. Please. Look at them. Then you’ll see. You’ll see what I’m trying to tell you.”
I didn’t want to know what she was talking about. The door slammed behind me and I ran to the only place I knew.
Black dress billowing, I flew through the stable doors and grabbed up the nearest saddle, heading for the closest stall. It was Magenta, her nostrils flaring as she sensed my mood.
Bridling her, I sprang into the leather seat, reveling in the clop of her hooves on the cobbled ground. I wheeled her into the open and turned her toward the dam and the old shed.
Her hind legs bunched and pulled, and the rhythm beat through my body. I drove her past the shining water, over the lip of the rise, down onto the flat land where we’d found Samuel’s body, and then further out to the place I didn’t want to go.
I raced toward the creek and the thick woods, and then I pulled Magenta to a stop at the edge of the trees, my chest heaving and my blood pounding.
There was nothing frightening about those trees, all scraggly and clumped together. They were just trees with thick trunks and tangled branches, a messy mix of seedlings and mature growth, all mashed together.
But if I went in, would I find the answer?
Would I find out why this was happening to me? Would I find out why I was split in two? Would I find out how I died?
Except that I couldn’t go in. Even with my mother’s scream in my head telling me to go in. Telling me I had to.
I couldn’t go in.
I whipped Magenta around and raced back, just as the cattlemen returned from the final roundup. They cussed, and the dogs barked. The horses headed for the watering troughs to splash their bridles and gulp water.
Nathan appeared close behind them, his job to take care of the horses now that they’d finished their work for the day. He jumped from his horse, leaving her to push her way into the drinking throng, and ran up to me.
“That’s Magenta you’re riding. What are you doing with her?”
I snarled at him. “Whatever I want.”
“What—”
He snatched the reins before I could drive her away, but she threatened to rear, and I clung with my legs and cursed my slippery skirts.
He whispered to her until she calmed down. Then he turned to me.
“Caroline, my whole future rests with this horse. You can’t just take her out for a ride if you feel like it. If you lame her, there won’t be a start for me.”
He leaned closer as Magenta’s forelegs shivered. The cattlemen glanced our way as they maneuvered their horses into the stables.
“There won’t be a start for us.”
He looked at me with his intense eyes, and a single finger dared to brush my knee. I twitched away from him, but he had a strong hold on Magenta, and she listened to the body language of her trainer.
“Get down, Caroline, before one of the men comes over and things get difficult.”
With my face burning, I slid off the ho
rse, black skirts trailing behind me. Several of the men were staring at us now, scratching their unshaven chins with grins that didn’t reach their eyes.
I whirled to leave, but his whisper whipped at me. “Caroline. We need to talk. Meet me by the dam in an hour.”
I blinked away my disbelief before I realized that Nathan had no idea that was where Timothy and Victoria had so many of their secret meetings. I started to protest, but he was too far away, placing himself between me and the leering men.
He wasn’t there when I arrived. A frog croaked and a cicada started singing. I paced around the muddy edge of the dam, peering beyond the surface and trying not to remember Samuel, his jeans hitched up around his skinny legs, knee high in murky water, waiting for a fish that never came.
There was a drop on my cheek and I paused to contemplate the sky, holding out my hand to check for rain, until there was another. My eyes were leaking. Blasted things.
A crow rested down on the edge of the shed, scrabbling with its sharp claws and making an infernal din. I picked up a pebble and threw it, but my aim was off.
“No mercy for crows, huh?” Nathan hesitated beside the shed, studying me.
“They don’t deserve it. They’ll peck out an injured animal’s eyes in an instant. They don’t even wait for it to die.”
The black bird ruffled its feathers and hesitated. I threw another pebble, and this time the bird fled, beating at the air with its enormous wings.
“I wish you didn’t have to wear that.”
I chose to believe he was talking about the color. “You think black doesn’t suit me?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Well, I’m getting used to it.”
I rolled a last pebble around in my fist. If only I could take off in a flurry of black wings, leave the ground, and never look back.
Nathan followed my stare, up at the shed roof and to the blue sky beyond. He moved close to me, and I realized that he’d washed and changed. His hair was wet. There were still droplets of water at the edges around his face. He’d hurried.
“What’s going on, Caroline?”
