After Alice Fell(30)

“No,” I say and waggle his hand in mine. “Just a lost one.”

“I can show him all the paths.”

“I’m sure you can.” I glance back; the man has moved on. “Will you help me with Alice’s trunk?”

Toby pushes out his chest and takes a bigger stride. His lips slide into a smile, as if he knew all along I would ask him to help. “No time like now.”

“Yes. No time like now.”





Chapter Twelve


Cathy lifts Alice’s plaid skirt from a peg in the wardrobe and runs her thumb over the embroidered niceties along the cuffs and shoulders. There’s an ornate design of wildflowers along the hem. “Lydia’s work. I remember when she did that, I do. For Alice’s birthday. The first year you were away at the war. Alice gave her a watercolor of what she wanted.”

She hooks her finger under one of the wide ribbons that run from the hem and up the skirt, stopping to pull a cord that peeks from the waist. The fabric accordions, just enough to lift the skirts a few inches from the floor. The better for Alice to run in the woods.

“Clever.”

She sits on the bed, smoothing the silk of a corset I’ve removed from the trunk. “This stitchwork. It’s close to art. Look.”

The thread is nearly invisible, as if the stays are weaved into the fabric. The ribbon lace shimmers a pale pink in this corset, a brilliant yellow in the next. “We can rework it for you.”

I turn from the trunk to reach for the corset. The fabric warms under my palm, through to the spring of the metal stays, as if she might inhabit the clothing. I don’t want to wear it. It was Alice’s; it holds the shape of her.

Cathy takes it from me, rolling it to the side so it sits snug with the other. “What’s next on the inventory list?”

Toby holds the hat pin to the light and touches the tip of the songbird’s wing. “Can I have it?”

“What do you need a hat pin for?” She lifts a chemise. There’s a tear under the arm. “To the mending basket, then.” She tosses it to the basket by the rocker.

I hold out my palm to Toby for the pin. Give him a small nod it will be safe.

Cathy tips her head. “We should also rework the skirts.” Her gaze runs down my own dress. “You’re not so far off in size. Take a bit in from here. Dye it black, though I think you could get away with violet soon. And the lace collars, you should keep those. She did have a talent for that.”

Toby scratches the edge of the trunk’s open case, his nail curling the leather strap, then squats down and peers inside. “Can I have the lantern slides?”

“What slides?” I ask.

He holds a box high over his head, and I take it from him. A square box. Ludlow & Pine’s The 7 Wonders of the World etched around the statue of the Rhodes Colossus. I open the top. Seven glass slides sit in velvet, with handwritten cards serving as a cushion between each.

These weren’t on the inventory list. I wonder if she added them at the last minute.

“We’ll need to have a magic lantern show,” Cathy says. “We haven’t done that in ages.”

“Alice painted over the wild animals. On the Africa set,” Toby says. “Except the wildebeest. I did that one.”

“She repainted them all. Those, and Cities of the World. And The Presidents.” Cathy tilts her head to read the slide box. “I haven’t seen what she’s done to these, though.”

I close the lid and move it to the desk, then kneel by Toby. He pulls the books out and sets them by his side. He looks again and reaches for the journals.

“No.” I grab them and stand.

“Let me see,” Cathy says.

But I hold them and riffle the pages with my thumb first. All blank, the paper still stiff and new.

“Can I have the books?” Toby asks.

Cathy blinks, and stares at him as if just remembering he was in the room. “They’re not picture books.”

“Then this one.” He points to the astronomy book. “It’s got planets and stars.”

She leans over to look at the cover. “Hm. Well, I suppose . . .” As she straightens up, her eyes flick to the trunk. It is empty. “We’re done. I’ll have Elias clear it away.”

This can’t be it. There’s so little. The skirt and tops. A brush and mirror. A few books. The pin and box of lantern slides. The 7 Wonders of the World.

Elias will take it to the barn and stack it with all the other forgotten things. The broken furniture and outgrown toys. Mother’s rocker and Father’s smoking stand. Lionel and Cathy will breathe a sigh of relief; nothing to remind them of their part in this.

I grab up the inventory sheet. “No, there’s still the locket. Where’s her locket?”

Toby slams the lid. He bites down on his bottom lip, pearl teeth on skin blossomed red. “Agh,” he says. Then lifts the lid and drops it again.

“Toby. That’s enough.”

He makes a noise. Doesn’t move. He stretches his mouth into a grimace then clamps his teeth. Clack they go. “Where’s her locket where’s her locket? In the ground with the worms and bones.”

Cathy claps her hands in front of his face, startling him to silence.

She grabs his hand and yanks him to the door. “That’s it. Go to your room.”