“Why haven’t you heated water for her bath?” I ask Catherine pointedly.
She’s younger than my mother, strong enough to haul water and fill the tub in the kitchen. Normally I wash the two girls together, but even with Tillie sick, the other little one deserves care. Just looking at Catherine, she seems more worn down than usual, her narrow face pale, eyes dark shadowed. Everyone looks this way in Bitterburn town—downtrodden, hungry, and a bit desperate—but I’ve been gone for a while, living where I have enough to eat and less physical issues to worry about.
To my surprise, Catherine silently fetches the bucket and heads out to the well at the center of the village while I settle Millie in the kitchen with a few toys. Then I head back upstairs to check on her sister.
For the next two days, this becomes my new routine. Cook, tend to Tillie, bathe her face and hands, and repeat. I don’t eat much or sleep myself, partly for fearing that Tillie will get worse—that this time I can’t save her—and partly for worrying about what’s happening back at the keep.
Was Njål fearfully hurt when he read my note? Is he bothering to fix his own meals? He said before that before my arrival, he mostly starved since hunger can’t end his life.
Is he lonely right now?
It’s surprising how much I miss him, how much I want to get back to my life with him, even if it’s a strange one.
But I must save my sister first.
Then I’ll go home and keep my promise. I just wish it didn’t feel strangely as if I’m running out of time.
Deep the third night on toward dawn, Tillie’s fever breaks, leaving her clammy and weak, but from what I can tell there’s no fluid in her lungs and she’s breathing well. The main issue is that there’s little to eat so she can regain her strength. I wish I had packed a few provisions from Bitterburn, but I’m not sure how it would react to me pilfering from the pantry, and I’m slightly troubled by the possibility that the magically-replenishing supplies might turn to ashes and cobwebs once outside the walls. Maybe I’ve been living on maggots and rotten flesh and—
No, let’s not think about that. No dwelling on stolen bodies and devoured souls or fell rituals.
Tillie stirs as I quiet my thoughts, and she crawls out of the covers onto my lap. Millie is asleep on the far side of the pallet, sturdier than her twin and more resistant to fevers.
I stroke Tillie’s hair and she nestles her head on my shoulder. “Can you stay even after I’m well again? I like it better when you’re here.”
She might be the only one who does. Da has hardly spoken to me since I told him to take proper care of the girls, and Catherine seems to have given up hope. Winter is like that here with the harvests dwindling and nobody with a copper to spare.
Can I really go back knowing that there’s nothing to eat here? But what can I do if I stay? Sighing, I rub Tillie’s back and she stirs fretfully when I tuck her back into bed.
I can’t bring myself to crawl in between my sisters, as I used to sleep. I’ve gotten accustomed to my own space, and they both curl into me and kick in their sleep as well. I wrap up in my cloak and prop myself in the corner.
A few more days, that’s all.
Yet I don’t feel good about leaving. Da and Catherine ought to be able to take care of the girls without me, but they’re not doing a stellar job. Something has to change, but I suspect that things won’t improve in town until I resolve the curse at the keep. Maybe I can look on going home as another way of helping my family—because if I break the curse, the seasons should stabilize, and the growing season will stop shrinking. People will be able to grow more food and eat better, no more ten-month winters.
The night is long, and I don’t sleep much. In the morning, I change my pattern and cook what I can find for my family, including fritters and vegetable soup. The last of the potatoes are withered and the carrots are wrinkly, but they soften up in the salted water. I find a handful of walnuts and add them to the broth as well. This is what my family has, and I’ve no idea if they can acquire more. The miller probably won’t extend credit for more flour; he didn’t seem pleased with Da letting me go like that.
Tillie is well enough to climb down on her own to eat, and she’s so delighted to sample my cooking again that I feel guilty because I’m already mentally packing my bags. I can’t wait to go home. Can’t wait to stop feeling guilty and miserable within walls that are no longer—no, never were—my own.
Da and Catherine eat in morose silence, and I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but there seems to be a tension present here that wasn’t before.
Exactly what’s going on?
24.
Da and Catherine exchange a look, and I sense them talking silently. Then Da says, “It’s good to have you back.”
Is it because he’s honestly happy, or because I made soup and corn fritters and Catherine’s food doesn’t taste as good? The girls devour their portion as if it’s been ages since they had anything this delicious. Tillie eats while sitting on my lap. We’re all gathered around the low table in the living area with the fire crackling.
Since the cottage is small and my sister is in my lap, it’s warmer than usual, at least physically. A scene like this should feel
