Chapter 5 - The Dead Woman Above the Fireplace
Nobody slept afterward.
By dawn, snow covered the porch.
Jeb left before breakfast.
He did not explain where he was going.
Caleb refused to come downstairs.
Ruth cooked oatmeal mechanically.
Toby cried because Jeb had forgotten to kiss his forehead.
Charlene held the little boy while staring through the window at Jeb's disappearing figure.
She was angry.
Not because he had left.
Because once again, when the truth approached, he fled.
At nine, she climbed to the loft.
Caleb lay facing the wall.
“May I sit?”
“No.”
Charlene sat anyway.
“You don't listen.”
“Frequently.”
He did not respond.
She waited.
Eventually he said, “He thinks I don't remember.”
Charlene's pulse quickened.
“Your father?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you remember?”
Caleb turned.
His eyes were swollen.
“You'll leave.”
“Why?”
“Everybody does.”
“I haven't.”
“You will when you know.”
Charlene leaned against the wall.
“You're giving this secret an impressive amount of power.”
His mouth tightened.
“It killed Mama.”
Charlene went still.
Caleb immediately looked frightened by his own words.
“Caleb.”
He sat up.
“I ain't supposed to say.”
“I won't force you.”
He stared at her.
That seemed more powerful than force.
After several moments, he whispered.
“She wanted to go to town.”
“When?”
“The night she died.”
Charlene listened.
“Papa said no. Snow had started. Mama said she needed the doctor. They fought.”
Caleb swallowed.
“I was awake.”
“Did she leave?”
“She tried.”
His face twisted.
“Papa stopped her.”
Charlene's heartbeat accelerated.
“How?”
“I don't know. They were outside.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“I heard Mama yelling. Then Papa came inside alone.”
Charlene fought to keep her voice steady.
“What happened next?”
“He told us stay inside.”
“Then?”
“He went back out.”
Caleb's breathing changed.
“He was gone forever.”
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
“Then he returned?”
“With Mama.”
Caleb covered his face.
“She was frozen.”
Charlene closed her eyes.
There it was.
A child's memory.
Incomplete.
Terrible.
Possibly misunderstood.
But real enough to have haunted him for two years.
“What did your father say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“He carried her upstairs.”
Caleb's voice cracked.
“Next morning she was dead.”
Charlene put one hand on the mattress.
Not touching him.
Available.
“Caleb, you believe your father caused her death.”
The boy looked at her.
Terror answered.
Charlene's stomach dropped.
Before she could speak, boots hit the floor downstairs.
Jeb had returned.
Caleb scrambled upright.
“Don't tell him.”
“I won't betray you.”
“Promise.”
Charlene hesitated.
“I promise I won't repeat your words without telling you first.”
He frowned.
“That ain't the same.”
“No.”
“I need you to promise.”
“And I need to protect this family.”
He stared.
Charlene continued.
“If there is danger here, I cannot promise silence forever.”
Caleb's eyes filled with betrayal.
“You're just like him.”
He pushed past her.
By the time Charlene reached the main room, Caleb had gone outside.
Jeb stood beside the table carrying a dead rabbit and looking confused.
“What happened?”
Charlene's temper broke.
“Ask your son.”
Jeb stiffened.
“Charlene—”
“He had a nightmare that terrified every child in this house.”
“I know.”
“And you left.”
“I needed to check the north traps.”
“You needed to stay.”
His eyes flashed.
“I know what my family needs.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
Ruth took Toby into the bedroom.
Eli and Noah vanished upstairs.
Charlene lowered her voice.
“Your children are afraid of the night their mother died.”
Jeb went rigid.
“So are you.”
His face changed.
“Careful.”
“No.”
Charlene stepped closer.
“You married me.”
“That doesn't give you the right—”
“It gives me responsibility.”
He stared.
Charlene's heart pounded, but she continued.
“I will not live in a house where five children are drowning in a secret because their father cannot bear to speak.”
Jeb's jaw flexed.
“You don't understand.”
“Then help me.”
He turned away.
Charlene followed.
“Jeb.”
“Enough.”
“No.”
He rounded on her.
“I said enough.”
Toby began crying from the bedroom.
Jeb heard.
His anger collapsed instantly.
Charlene lowered her voice.
“That is exactly what fear did to me for years.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Nathaniel.”
She rarely said his name in this house.
“He never struck me.”
Jeb's expression darkened anyway.
“He didn't have to. When he said enough, conversation ended. When he said a subject was closed, it disappeared. When I cried about not conceiving, he told me tears wouldn't produce a child.”
Jeb's fists tightened.
Charlene continued.
“I will not build another marriage around silence.”
The accusation hit.
Jeb looked toward Sarah's portrait.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then he crossed to the mantel.
He picked up Sarah's letter.
His hands shook.
“I found her outside.”
Charlene said nothing.
“She'd been sick three days. Couldn't keep food down. Fever. Doctor had told her not to travel.”
His voice became rough.
“That night she woke worse. Said she couldn't breathe. Wanted town.”
“And you refused.”
“The storm was already bad.”
Charlene remembered Caleb.
“They fought.”
“Yes.”
“She went outside.”
Jeb closed his eyes.
“I thought she was going to the privy.”
“What happened?”
“She saddled a horse.”
Charlene's breath caught.
“I followed when I realized.”
He stared at the floor.
“Found her maybe half a mile up the trail.”
“In the snow?”
“Horse threw her.”
Charlene put one hand over her mouth.
“She wasn't unconscious. She was trying to walk.”
Jeb's voice broke.
“I carried her home.”
“Caleb saw.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you explain?”
His eyes lifted.
“Because the doctor came next morning and said the cold had made everything worse.”
He looked toward the window.
“If I'd taken her to town when she first asked…”
Charlene understood.
“You blame yourself.”
“I stopped her.”
“Because traveling was dangerous.”
“She begged.”
“You believed staying was safer.”
“I was wrong.”
“That doesn't mean—”
“She died.”
The simplicity of it silenced her.
Jeb looked at Sarah's letter.
“She wrote that the day before.”
“You haven't read it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe she blamed me too.”
Charlene's heart broke.
Not only for Jeb.
For Caleb.
For all of them.
A family arranged around a letter nobody had opened.
“What if she didn't?”
Jeb laughed bitterly.
“What if she did?”
Charlene looked at him.
“Then at least you'd know.”
He shook his head.
“You want me to read it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your children are inventing answers in the silence.”
He flinched.
Charlene continued softly.
“And children usually invent answers crueler than truth.”
Jeb stared at the envelope.
At last he broke the seal.
The paper crackled.
He unfolded it.
Charlene turned away.
“That is yours.”
“Stay.”
She looked back.
Jeb's face had become pale.
“Please.”
So she stayed.
He began reading silently.
His eyes moved across the first lines.
Then stopped.
He read them again.
“What?”
Charlene asked.
Jeb couldn't answer.
He handed her the page.
Sarah's handwriting tilted sharply.
Jeb, if I die, you will try to make it your fault because carrying blame is easier for you than carrying grief. Don't.
Charlene's throat tightened.
She continued.
You have loved me stubbornly and imperfectly, which is the only way real people know how. Whatever happens to me is not a punishment laid at your feet.
Jeb turned away.
Charlene read the rest.
Sarah wrote about each child.
Caleb's seriousness.
Ruth's kindness.
Eli's questions.
Noah's sensitive heart.
Baby Toby.
Then came the final paragraph.
Charlene stopped.
“Jeb.”
“What?”
“She wrote something else.”
He looked over.
Charlene read aloud.
“‘And when the time comes, because it must come, do not choose a woman for what she can give you. Choose one for what she can give them when they are frightened. Choose the woman who kneels.’”
Jeb's face went completely still.
Charlene looked at him.
The mercantile flashed through her mind.
Toby crying.
Charlene kneeling.
Jeb watching.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You had read this?”
“I swear I hadn't.”
“Then why did you choose me?”
His eyes moved to hers.
“Because you knelt.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Neither noticed Caleb standing on the staircase.
He had heard everything.
His face crumpled.
“Papa?”
Jeb turned.
Caleb descended slowly.
“You didn't leave Mama outside?”
Jeb's breath caught.
“No.”
“She fell?”
“Yes.”
“You went after her?”
“Yes.”
Caleb began crying.
Jeb crossed the room.
The boy tried to hold himself together for three seconds.
Then he collapsed into his father's arms.
Jeb dropped to his knees.
Charlene watched father and son cling to each other beneath Sarah's portrait.
For the first time in two years, truth entered the house.
But truth did not solve everything.
Because later that afternoon, hoofbeats sounded on the frozen trail.
A rider appeared beyond the trees.
Clean dark coat.
Polished boots.
Town horse.
Charlene recognized him before he reached the porch.
May you like
Nathaniel Reed had ridden all the way to Wolverine Ridge.
And he had come without Bethany.
