After Alice Fell(23)

Her napkin snaps and waves as she presses it to her lips. “It’s probably Elias. He comes to take Saoirse home.”

My heart thumps in my ears. “Yes. That must be it.” I settle back to the table. “That’s all it is.”

Lionel stares at me. I’ve seen the look before. He’s given it to Alice.

Lionel’s too tall for my bed, but he stretches out at an angle anyway, his feet hanging over the side. He taps the corners of his square-tipped boots and pummels my pillow before crossing his arms behind his head.

“I’d like to finish brushing my hair,” I say. “It’s late.”

“It’s all so neat and tidy in here. Everything in its particular place.”

“There’s not much to neaten.”

“Still. One of your more . . . abiding traits.”

His teeth bite down on a cheroot, unlit: one small accommodation since he’s taken over the bed and left me to sit at my desk. He wiggles it back and forth before abandoning it to my nightstand. My little brother who’s grown tall but not grown up.

“You make it sound like a flaw.”

“That would be your lack of humor.”

“There’s not much to laugh at, is there?”

“Or the way you cut your meat into tiny pieces before you eat.”

I run a finger over my brush and pull a long strand from the bristles. “What do you want, Lionel?”

He glances at the closed door. “Close the windows.”

“It’s too hot.”

“Just for a minute.”

I reach for the latch. Just past the pond, a glow of light moves through the trees, and then it’s gone. The pond and woods are black again.

“Are there squatters,” I ask, “in the woods?”

“Did you see something?” His eyes slide to the window, then back to me. “I wouldn’t worry. It’s just a few of them. They’ve got a camp up Barrow Rock.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know. A few. They’re back from the war, I think. Just not ready for home.”

“You need to shift them off.”

“They’ll move on when they move on.”

“They shouldn’t be there.”

“They aren’t doing any harm. Leave it alone, Marion.” He juts his lower jaw and grinds his teeth. “You never leave things alone.”

“Is this about Alice?”

“It’s about Cathy.”

“Of course it is.”

“Don’t start.” The bed squeaks as he swings his legs off and paces to the door and back. “You always . . . I don’t want Cathy upset, that’s all. This is her house now.”

“As evidenced by the wallpaper.”

He stops midway across the room and stares at the paper with a frown. “You can change yours if you want.”

I tip my head. “I don’t want to upset her.”

He pushes his fingers into his hair, then rubs it into a muss. “You can’t change it, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t afford it. Not right now.”

“But all those contracts.”

“For bullet casings. And belt buckles. Do you have any idea the stockpile I have of US Army buckles? Half the contracts haven’t been paid. I doubt they will be. And Alice—the cost of her care at that place—and the floors and bonnets and . . . and wallpaper.” He sinks to the bed. “I’ve no work for the men. There’s too many of them home, and I’ve got nothing for them. We’re living on credit. Just for now, until I can retool the machinery and . . . I have a few ideas in the fire. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Today upset Cathy. I need you to not upset her.” He sits upright and rubs his thighs. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“I want to lodge a complaint. Against Brawders House.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s right.”

“What’s right is to say Alice had a short illness and died. That’s what’s right. That’s what’s kindest, isn’t it? To her? To the family? You know that’s what’s right.”

I keep my eyes on the brush. “Where did you tell people she was?”

“A sanatorium, for consumption. Cathy thought that best.”

“But it’s not her place.”

“Yes, Marion. It is.”

“Can I ask you something?” I hesitate; I want to ask about Toby. If he’s seen his son as I have, silent chatter to no one, hearing nothing in return.

His sigh is long. He removes his spectacles, rubs a knuckle to his eyes. His lids are red rimmed and shadowed. I think he knows what I won’t ask. What we’ve both had bite at our own heels—that we, too, are like her. But he doesn’t need another hole in the boat right now.

“Never mind.”

“And Cathy?”

“I’ll try not to upset her. She’s been nothing but good to you.”

“And the money? You won’t tell her about that?”

“It is temporary, isn’t it? Because I don’t think she’d like something more permanent.”