The Spite House(52)
They eventually made him write his signature on a blank sheet of paper, presumably to cross-check it as he suggested. He never knew what other steps they took to verify his identity. Whether they checked photographs of him that they had on file, whether they interviewed anyone else from the 144th. Whatever they did, they must have been thorough. They were not satisfied that he was Peter Masson until late October, and he did not make his way home until November.
He expected there to be much disbelief when he arrived in Degener. He did not expect that disbelief to be his own. There were strangers in and around his family home, none willing to explain what business they had there, or why expansions had been built. An overly polite woman who met Peter there told him he could find Lukas staying in Degener’s lone hotel with his wife and daughter. Lukas was shocked to see Peter in person, but not as shocked as he would have been had he not received a telegram informing him that a grievous error had been made and that his brother was not dead. Still, after such a swing in circumstances and emotions, Lukas was, in his own words, “unsure of what to believe.” He was not overjoyed or even relieved to see that Peter was back. Peter understood why this was before even knocking on the front door of their house. The instinct that drove him to come back from the war proved correct. Lukas had jumped at the first opportunity to rid himself of the property meant to stay with their family for generations.
The home that their father left to them—that the Houghtons gave to their father as reparation for the hanging of his great-grandfather along with eleven others in 1862—was being expanded upon. Neighboring buildings put up on either side of it. Construction was close to completion.
The buyer was Everlasting Arms Ministries. They were based in Chicago, according to Lukas, sponsored by a wealthy benefactor. They were looking to expand into more “idyllic” parts of the country, where they could transport orphans from crowded cities to places that looked and felt like they offered a new beginning.
It was a noble endeavor, Peter agreed, and he understood why they found this part of the Texas Hill Country so attractive. But none of that changed the fact that this was still his house and his land, just as much as it was once his brother’s. He never agreed to sell his half of their inheritance, and never would. It was their father’s land, purchased at the price of their great-grandfather’s life. The marker that commemorated their great-grandfather’s murder still rested on the hill to the west, for God’s sake, overlooking this fresh injustice. To sell their house and land was a betrayal.
Surely the kind sisters of Everlasting Arms would understand the land’s importance to him and be reasonable about the mistake they and Lukas had made. Surely, people of the church would have compassion. They could find other land nearby. The Houghtons would help them. Peter would as well. He would make sure to compensate them for having to void the agreement they made with Lukas, as well as for any additional inconveniences, even if it meant providing them free labor until it satisfied however much additional debt they felt they were owed. Even Lukas, eager as he had been to sell the property, would have his eyes opened enough by the blessing of his only brother’s unexpected survival to see the injustice that he’d inadvertently done to Peter. Perhaps the orphan children, as well, would sympathize with Peter’s right to remain in his home and want not to compound a war hero’s suffering.
“You’ve been given a second life, brother,” Lukas told him. “Isn’t that enough of a blessing? You want to take this home away from these children, too?”
Peter wanted to choke his brother then. Render him unconscious and then beat him awake. He could have done it. Even as a medic he’d learned ways to defend himself and hurt others while in the army. Lukas had no idea what Peter had been through, and had no right to speak to him about blessings. Not when he stayed home while Peter went overseas and got his hands filthy trying to patch up bodies ripped up by war machines. If anything, Lukas was blessed to have no scruples or dignity, leaving him free to act as he pleased, while Peter was afflicted with a sense of duty and knowing what was right.
It was like they were siblings in a fairy tale with a corrupted ending. Instead of Lukas receiving any well-earned comeuppance, Peter was going to suffer for having courage. Then the giant seized the hero before he could escape down the beanstalk, and made good on the promise to grind the man’s bones into flour for bread. Peter should not have been disappointed. He shouldn’t have dared hope for his brother’s understanding, but what Lukas said to him tore something out of him that he had failed to loosen, so it did not come away clean.
“I can’t take from them what’s already mine,” Peter said, trembling, his rage rattling its way out of him. “And I wasn’t given a second life. I never died.”
“True, but we certainly thought you did. They sent us some poor soul’s remains, what little was left of them. They said it was you. We held a service. There’s a tombstone with your name—”
“I never died.” He swallowed his compulsion to say it a third time. Something within him wanted to scream it a thousand more times. I never died. I never died. On and on for as long as it would take for everyone to believe it. Himself most of all, the one person who could be sure that it was a lie.
CHAPTER 24
Stacy
The people she couldn’t see were waiting for her in Miss Eunice’s house. This time they said things that she could not ignore, and she couldn’t make them stop talking.