The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2) - Page 40

Theo had stopped sobbing by then and was staring at the top of Papa’s head as if he once more wasn’t sure where he was. “I don’t know.” His voice sounded bewildered and small. I had a sudden memory of him as a little boy the morning he’d come back from finding Mother. His little face had been red from the cold and exertion of running into the house to find Papa. “She’s in the snow, Papa. No clothes. She won’t move.” He’d cried as the words came out. I’d been at the bottom of the stairs, just having come down with the infant Fiona in my arms. Since I’d witnessed my mother over the baby’s crib, I didn’t let her out of my sight. I’d begged Papa to put Fiona’s crib in the room where Cymbeline and I slept. If Mother came to her again in the middle of the night, I would be there. Papa had installed a lock on the inside of the door. Every night I’d locked it before going to sleep. When the baby cried in the middle of the night for food, I’d taken her out of her crib to Mother. Papa would watch her feed the baby from her breast and then bring her back to our room and change her.

When Fiona was only three months old, Mother had walked into the snowstorm and perished.

I blinked to rid myself of the image of Theo that morning, but it was to no avail. Only six years old then, he’d curled up into a ball in front of the fire and stared blankly into the flames for hours. He’d been fragile for years afterward. And now, after what he’d experienced in the war, he seemed as fragile as our fine crystal. Why had they joined the army? Why had Flynn insisted they go? He should have known that his twin was not strong enough. Madness ran through our blood. What if we never got our Theo back?

Where was Flynn, anyway? He should be here. How could he have not heard him wake and wander out of the room in his pajamas? Flynn was supposed to look after him.

“There’s no frostbite,” Jasper said. “He must not have been out there too long.”

His hands had returned to a normal temperature. Papa and Jasper rose to their feet. “Let’s get him upstairs and into a hot bath.”

Jasper nodded and they took a nearly comatose Theo up the stairs. The moment they’d disappeared, Mama burst into tears. “Jo, I don’t understand. What was he doing?”

Fiona came to kneel on the floor next to us, seeming not to notice the melted snow that dampened her skirt. She placed her hands on Mama’s knees. “Don’t cry, Mama. Jo found him in time.”

Mama wiped under her eyes with her handkerchief. “Thank God. But what were you doing out there?”

“I was taking a walk. To think.”

The door opened and Flynn came through, followed by my sister and Phillip. “What’s wrong?” Flynn’s gaze went from Mama to me.

“Is it Theo?” Cymbeline asked.

“Yes, it’s Theo.” I jumped up from the bench, ready to strike as if I were a venomous snake. “I found him in his pajamas in the snow. He had no shoes on.” Shaking with anger, I pointed a finger at Flynn. “Why didn’t you know he got out of bed?”

“He was still there when I left this morning,” Flynn said, uncharacteristically subdued. “I would have known if I was home.”

“Has he done this before?” I asked.

“He sleepwalks sometimes,” Flynn said. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Not unusual?” I asked. “Of course it is. What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“Jo, don’t shout,” Fiona said. “Please.”

“Josephine, we fought in a war. Give him time. He’ll be fine eventually.”

“I may not have been there, but I can certainly see how it’s haunting him,” I said through gritted teeth. “Anyone can see that. He’s not fine now.”

“Darling, please, this isn’t helping,” Mama said.

“I’m sorry, Mama, but I won’t be quiet.” I turned to face Flynn. “You were the one who insisted on enlisting. You were the reason he was over there in the first place instead of at university where he belonged. If it wasn’t for your fighting spirit—your ridiculous need to compete—he wouldn’t have been there at all.”

“I didn’t ask him to join me,” Flynn said.

I ignored the hurt in his eyes. He didn’t get to be forgiven. Not this time. I pointed my finger at him. “You didn’t have to. He would never have let you go without him. That’s not how he works and you know it. Instead, you thought only of yourself and what you wanted. He’s not like you. He’s sensitive and peaceful, and the war has destroyed him.”

“Josephine, stop.” Fiona had risen to her feet. Tears dampened her dark lashes. “Don’t say anything more.”

The tearful tone of her voice jerked me out of my anger. Everyone stared at me in various expressions of shock and discomfort. Cymbeline, eyes wide, pressed against the closed door, as if to keep the enemy from entrance. Phillip stood by the closet with one arm out of his coat. Mama sat on the bench with her hands clasped together on her lap, all color drained from her face. Her lips looked almost blue. Flynn’s arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at me now with defiant eyes. Only Fiona seemed pliable, still of the living world and able to move about. She came close to me and took my hands. “Jo, the war wasn’t anyone in this house’s fault. You know that as well as I.”

“But why did our brothers have to go?” I asked. “Why did my sweet Theo have to go and come back a shell of himself? Fiona, you were only a baby when Mother died. You don’t know what she was like. How her mind slipped into madness.”

“Triggered by us,” Flynn said. “Isn’t that what you think, Josephine? That she was fine until she gave birth to twins. Isn’t that what you’ve secretly thought all along?”

I turned on him, spitting with rage. “How dare you say that to me? That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve spent my life trying to protect you two. And the girls, too. It all fell on me after Mother died. It was my job to protect you, but I couldn’t do it this time. Not when you lied about your age to go fight in a war that had nothing to do with us.”

“We’re English,” Flynn said, “as much as we are Americans. The Allies needed us. Do you really think we could stay in isolation when our brothers and sisters were in danger of losing their freedom to the Germans?”

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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