I floundered after him, drifts calf-high and freezing. At least he’d had the sense to strap on his snowshoes before he’d left.
“What are you doing?”
He stopped, back to me, his sigh steeped in a deep plume of white breath. “What does it look like?”
“Like you’re about to get yourself lost in a blizzard.”
“I’m sure that’d please you.”
“Sam.”
He remained motionless. “It was hard enough living in that house with you, Ellerie, stomping about as if you were the head of everything, as if you know everything. You’ve no idea how much it hurt when Papa left the bees to you.”
“I didn’t ask him to. I—”
He whirled around, finally looking at me. “They were supposed to be mine!” He swung his arm out, gesturing toward the farm. “All of this was supposed to have been mine! I’m the oldest! I’m the son! What right do you have bossing me about, as if I’m stupid, as if I’m in need of your almighty guidance?”
“What right?” I repeated, feeling the barrage of his words hit like bullets. But rather than shredding and stinging, they sparked, incinerating a scolding fury within me. “I’m the only reason the hives are still here. You nearly killed them all, trying to get those extra bottles of honey! How could you have been so thoughtless, Sam?”
A cloud of breath flooded from his mouth, as though I’d pummeled him. “I had to—I needed—you wouldn’t even begin to understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand. I won’t. Ever. It was too cold. It was too late in the season. And I can’t decide which is worse—that you were too stupid or you just didn’t care!”
He shook his head. “I guess Papa was right, then. Maybe I am the weaker one, the lesser twin. Maybe I’m supposed to stick to the background while you reign supreme over your little hives. But I will not stay in that house while you accuse me of murder! While you believe another man’s word over mine.” His lips trembled, rage and sorrow whipping together into a tidal wave of misery.
I faltered in the face of his pain, casting my anger aside. “Sam, I didn’t—I haven’t!”
“I won’t!” He snapped and trudged off, leaving me behind once more.
“Where are you going?” I called after him.
“I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. I’d rather live in the forests, fighting off those damned monsters, than spend another second under that roof with you!”
He disappeared in a curtain of snowfall before I could stop him.
But even if he hadn’t, I don’t think I would have tried.
* * *
“I can’t believe Sam really left,” Sadie said, settling back into her seat, our cold breakfast laid before us. She stared at the empty chair with morose regard. “Do you think he’ll come back when Mama and Papa do?”
I doubted it and didn’t feel poorly for saying so. My blood boiled, remembering his accusations.
“Won’t he want to see the baby? And…me?”
“I’m sure he’ll come visit,” Merry promised. “Cheer up, little love. You’ll see him soon enough.”
“But why did he have to go? Is he mad at us?” A quick flick of her eyes in my direction made it clear who she truly meant by “us.”
I bustled back to the kitchen and unhooked the kettle from the hearth. After grabbing the tea, I returned to the dining room. “I don’t think so…certainly not at you. This was bound to happen. Sam’s growing up. He wasn’t going to stay here forever. Remember when he hung the curtain in the loft? It’s like that—he just needs his own place. Space to become himself.”
“But you’re twins,” she observed. “You won’t leave us too, will you?” Her eyes were as round as an owl’s, pleading and dark with worry.
Sinking into the chair next to her, I grabbed her hand and pressed a fervent kiss to its back. “Of course not. I’d never leave my sisters.” Sadie twisted her fingers through mine, still miserable, and I gestured for Merry to join us. “Let’s say the blessing before the food gets any colder.”
The three of us joined hands and closed our eyes. Before I could find the right words, there was a brisk knock on the front door.
“Sam?” Sadie guessed, her eyes flashing open.
“He wouldn’t knock,” I said, standing up.
“Or use the front door,” Merry added.
I pushed myself from the table as another flurry of knocks sounded. Across the lace curtains a silhouette swayed from foot to foot.
“Ezra. Hello,” I said in greeting, opening the door, surprise in my voice. “Thomas,” I acknowledged, seeing my cousin standing behind him.
“We’re terribly sorry to call at such an early hour—” Ezra began.
“Did you forget something last night?” I swept my eyes over the sitting room, but nothing looked out of place.
“No, no…nothing like that.”
“My sisters and I were just settling down for breakfast. Would you care for some tea?”
“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” Ezra said. He pushed his gold wire spectacles up his nose, looking lost. “We can come back another time…”
Thomas placed a hand on his father’s back, bolstering him up. “We’re already this far.” My cousin turned to me. “We were attacked last night.”
“Attacked?” Merry echoed. She’d wandered in from the dining room, fingers at her throat. “Are you all right? What happened?”
His mouth opened as if to smile, but it contained no joy. “We’re fine, mostly. Calvin woke us in the middle of the night. Our wagon was being ransacked. Our supplies cast out and set on fire. It was too dark to make out faces, but we saw at least three shadows fleeing the scene. And the oxen…”
“They eviscerated them,” Ezra filled in when Thomas could not.
I took in a sharp breath, unable to keep from imagining the blood slashed across the newly fallen snow. Last night had been Christmas. Who would do something so horrific on such a holy night?
My stomach ached as I remembered Rebecca’s wedding.
The Elders had accused Ezra and Thomas of being behind all the strange events in town. Too many people had stood by, nodding in silent agreement. Any one of them—buoyed by a bit of holiday spirits—could have decided to take justice into their hands.