Give the Dark My Love(62)

Home.

I broke into a smile as I left the main road and veered toward my parents’ house. Every window was dark, but not theirs.

I ran the last few steps, and the front door swung open. My sister stood in the light from the door, and even though I couldn’t see her face, I heard her laugh. “You’re home!” she called, running down to greet me. “What are you doing home?” She wrapped her arms around me, laughing, saying that Mother was already asleep, and I closed my eyes.

I wanted to be nowhere else in the entire world other than here.





THIRTY-EIGHT


    Nedra



Ernesta and I crept through the house, careful not to wake my mother. Papa was still out on his latest book run. My bed was all made up, as if I’d never left, my sheets crisp with sprigs of dried lavender tucked inside. “This is heaven,” I said, throwing off my clothes, slipping into a camisole, and falling into bed.

“Those fancy beds in the city no good?” Nessie said, grinning at me.

“Nothing is as good as this bed,” I said, sighing heavily as I rubbed my face against the sheets.

“Not even that boy you wrote me about?” Nessie’s eyes twinkled mischievously. I considered throwing my pillow at her, but decided it wasn’t worth the loss.

We talked late into the night, just like when we were little kids. Our beds were so close that we could reach across the distance and touch each other’s fingertips. When I woke the next morning, I was curled up to the very edge, one hand slung across the valley between our beds, resting on the corner of her pillow.

Ernesta was gone. But at the foot of my bed was a simple brown dress, the hem embroidered with red flowers. I threw back the covers and tossed the dress over my shoulders as quickly as possible, then snuck out of my room. I crept down the hallway, toward the sound of voices—my sister and my mother, eating breakfast in the kitchen. Bookshelves lined both walls of the hallway, and I breathed deeply. Nothing was as intoxicating as the smell of old books.

I caught Nessie’s eye through the doorway, and she winked. She was wearing the exact same brown dress with red flowers on the hem. Her black hair was braided in a crown, just like mine.

“Excuse me, Mama,” Ernesta said politely. “I forgot something in my room.” She got up and left the table, heading down the hall to me. She paused, grinning, and I couldn’t help but mirror her smile. That’s what we were—mirror twins, identical in almost every way.

Ernesta stayed in the hall while I walked to the kitchen, sitting down at the table.

“I’m going to have to tell the boy to bring more milk next time,” Mama said, her back to me.

I bit back a grin. Ernesta and I hadn’t tried this trick in years.

“I want to make a cake for when your father gets back,” Mama continued. “But for tonight, I’d like to make that stew Papa likes, the one with lamb. Can you go to the butcher for me?”

“Of course, Mama,” I said, careful to keep my voice light like Ernesta’s.

Mama whipped around, squinting at me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked innocently.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction more.

Just then, Father’s cart rumbled outside the kitchen window. Mama rushed to the door, slinging it open as Papa unhitched Jojo. I followed Mama outside.

“Bardon!” Mama called. “You’re home early!”

Papa beamed at her. “I missed my girls!” he said. And then his eyes fell on me. “Nedra! What are you doing here?”

“Nedra?” Mama glared as I burst into laughter. Ernesta ran from the kitchen, cackling. “Nedra!” Mama screeched. “I knew it was you, but you—oh!” She growled in frustration, but Papa whirled her around, spinning her in the air and kissing the anger out of her.

Ernesta punched my shoulder. “She fell for it!” she said, laughing. That was no small accomplishment; Mama almost never mistook us.

“Honestly, Mother, how can you not tell the difference between your only two children?” I asked in a superior tone. Ernesta wove her arm through mine, and we pressed our cheeks together, smiling up at our parents innocently.

“You demon-children!” Mama shouted, but she was laughing. She took a book from Papa’s cart and threw it at us.

“Not the books!” Papa said, snatching for it, but it was already out of his reach. I easily caught the tome—a history of the Oryon religion—and placed it back on the cart.

Mama grabbed me, wrapping me in a hug. “Nedra,” she whispered. “My Nedra.” She squeezed me tightly. “But what are you doing back now?”

Joy slipped from my face. “The plague—” I started.

Mama smoothed my hair and pulled me back into her hug.

“We worried about that,” Papa said. “Here and in the city, if reports from Hart are to be believed.”

“They are,” I said.

Mama squeezed tighter. “And to think,” she said, pulling back. “I was worried I wouldn’t recognize you when you came back from the city.”

“Technically, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Inside!” Mama announced. “Food!”

After we helped Papa put Jojo into her stable, we gathered in the kitchen and Mama started cracking eggs into a hot pan. Ernesta had drilled me yesterday about the city, and I had to repeat almost all of it, describing everything from the food to the clothing to the people.