There would be no further attempts at a supply run.
Amity Falls would hunker down for winter, ration our supplies, and pray to God for temperance and a bountiful spring.
Any talk of retrieving the wagons and ammunitions left behind was firmly squelched. Parson Briard made a half-hearted suggestion that they ought to at least go after the bodies so the poor souls could be laid to rest in a church grave, but Samuel swiftly pointed out that the creatures had left no bodies to bury.
The Elders and the other men left after that.
Samuel fell asleep and didn’t wake for three days.
We made the sugar cakes and resurrected our silly tent.
We fed the bees and sparingly fed ourselves, and the days passed much in the ways they always had.
We missed Mama. We missed Papa. We missed the fullness and life they’d brought to the house.
But the weeks carried on and the snow began to fall, covering our grief, covering our farm, and covering the Falls.
A persistent tapping sounded at the windows, drawing my attention from Parson Briard’s admonishments that his son and Rebecca Danforth love, honor, and obey one another till death should part them.
It grew louder, like a giant insect skittering over the panes of glass. I drew my shawl closer, imagining hundreds of raspy legs rubbing against themselves as they cavorted and squirmed.
“What is that?”
Judd Abrams’s voice rang out, interrupting the service. Up at the altar, Rebecca’s head snapped toward him. If you could ignore the daggers burning in her eyes, I’d never seen her look lovelier.
Letitia Briard had gifted her new daughter-to-be a length of cloth from her stash of fine fabrics specially ordered from the city. Though the pale blue checks brought out the creamy glow of Rebecca’s cheeks, she’d crafted the pattern with an unfashionably high waist and had selected a long organdy veil to help cover the small bump.
Surprisingly, it appeared the ruse was working. Not a single person in town had whispered a word against the hasty betrothal. Rebecca appeared to have grown up overnight. I barely recognized my best friend in the woman standing before us all.
Former best friend, I supposed, watching her eyes skirt mine.
Parson Briard frowned at the interruption but cocked his head toward the windows, finally noticing the sound himself.
“You uh—you may now kiss the bride,” he stammered, and after a quick peck on the lips, the ceremony came to an end.
Merry, Sadie, and I stood up with everyone to clap as Simon and Rebecca walked down the aisle together, hands joined in a tight fist. Samuel had opted to stay home, citing exhaustion, but I guessed he was nursing a broken heart.
Simon grinned widely, as happy as I’d ever known him to be. Rebecca’s lips were lifted in a smile, but it looked too stiff, as though she was wearing a mask. Simon opened the doors at the back of the sanctuary with a gallant swing and gestured for his new bride to leave first.
Rebecca stopped short before stepping into the dark afternoon. “It’s hailing!” she exclaimed, turning back to the congregation. “That’s what the tapping noise was. Hail.”
“In December?” the parson asked, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion.
Murmurs rose, and several people made their way to the open door to see for themselves.
Outside, the wind shifted, growing into a high-pitched howl, and a shower of icy pellets flew into the church, thudding onto the floorboards with unsettling heft.
“She’s right,” Calvin Buhrman said, picking one up. It was nearly the size of his palm and had a strange bluish tint to it. “Hail.”
“Shut the doors, shut the doors!” Rebecca cried as a small boulder struck her shoulder.
Simon and Calvin worked together, fighting against the wind’s sudden swell, as a terrific crash of thunder broke directly above the church, pounding its fury into our sternums. Sadie screamed, and several pews over, the Visser baby began to cry.
“Sorry,” Sadie whimpered, pressing herself against my side.
“It’s all right,” I promised, giving her a side hug. She was notoriously scared of lightning storms. I’d never thought it was something we’d have to worry over once the snows had set in.
Parson Briard peered out a window into the darkness. He raised one hand to grab hold of our attention again.
“I know my family had planned to host a small reception at the Gathering House following this afternoon’s nuptials, but I think perhaps it’s most prudent for us to hunker down here and wait out this storm.”
Amos McCleary joined the parson at the window, leaning on his cane. His breathing seemed to require too much effort these days. A heavy wetness rattled at the end of every gasp for air, devolving into bouts of coughing that nearly shook him apart.
“Amos, sit, sit,” his wife, Martha, insisted, gently pulling the Elder back to a pew. “You need to rest. This has been too much for you today.”
Across the aisle from us, I noticed Matthias Dodson and Leland Schäfer exchange worried glances. The group of Elders was composed of men from the Falls’s founding families, passing their cloaks from father to son. With Jebediah dead, there would be no one to take Amos’s place should this cough kill him.
A council would have to be formed to elect his replacement. There were only three families who would be eligible. The Buhrmans, the Lathetons, and us. With Papa gone…
I shuddered to think of Samuel wearing Elder black.
One of the farmers who lived near the north ridge, Thaddeus McComb, approached the two Elders, nervously running his hands over one another, his jaw tight.
“Thaddeus.” Leland greeted him, signaling to Matthias to pause their conversation. “You look worried. Is there something we can help you with?”
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the church doors in their frames and causing the group of children playing near them to titter with anxious glee.
“I—uh—I didn’t want to bring this up today, not at a wedding and certainly not in a church. But since we’re all stuck here for a bit…”
Matthias waved his hand, gesturing for the farmer to speed up the delivery of his tale.
“I want to report an…uh…incident.”
“Incident?” Matthias repeated.
“Of vandalism…I think.”
“You think?”
Thaddeus licked his lips. “It’s only…I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’m not even sure what to call it…not really.”
“Go on.”