Chapter 33 #2
“Sayla,” Warren began, his voice so thick it seemed he might start bawling before he managed to get the words out. “My dearest. I’m so glad to have found you. Even gladder to have loved you. And to have you love me.”
The sentences were heartfelt but clumsy, and his movements were equally graceless as he opened the bag and upended it into his palm. A flash of silver coiled into the shape of a chain, and my heart leaped for my sister.
Kit figured it out about then and clasped his hand atop mine. If he hadn’t been a wet, dirty mess, I might have crawled into his lap because I wanted little more than to hold him. Kiss him. Share this joy and every other with him, forever.
Warren cleared his throat again.
“I’d like it…” He swallowed. So red yet determined to get it out. “I’d be so grateful… if you would…”
“Warren, you silly man!” Sayla blurted, startling her suitor to silence. She was beaming, though, and tears spilled down her scarred cheeks as she opened her arms to him. “You act as though you think I’d say no!”
She sprang forward, tackling Warren so hard she almost took them both to the ground.
Warren managed to keep his seat while taking my sister on board, and I cupped my fingers to my mouth to stifle a delighted squeal.
“So, you’ll… you’ll marry me?” Warren asked breathlessly.
“Of course!” Sayla replied with a vigorous nod.
Warren still held the chain. He had no way to put it on Sayla’s wrist with her clinging to him, nearly strangling the poor fellow from the looks of it. But he was blissful and, when he glanced over at me and mouthed “Thank you,” I couldn’t have been more pleased.
Past them, Mother remained in her seat, as teary as Sayla and wearing a smile that soothed my very soul.
I swiveled toward Kit, not realizing my own cheeks were damp until the movement caused air to whoosh over them.
He was still visibly worn down, but he looked as happy as I knew he would be.
And I had no doubt he was remembering our own engagement by the way his fingers crept up my hand beneath the table and tugged on the leather cord around my wrist.
Their joy was ours, too, because we were family. All of us. Mother, and Sayla, and Warren, and me. And Kit.
And Merrick, who gestured toward where Warren and Sayla were tangled in a fierce embrace.
“This is what you should be doing, Penwell,” he grumbled.
A short breath sputtered out of me. “What, proposing to Kit?” I yanked my hand free of Kit’s grasp and waved it proudly in the air. “He beat me to it. Did it properly and everything.”
My half-brother’s eyes—green like my own—narrowed. “There’s nothing proper about this.” The tip of his chin indicated Kit and me. “What would be proper is taking responsibility for what you’ve been given, finding a woman who can tolerate you, and letting her bear you a few sons.”
It was a familiar aspersion, but it burned me through and through.
I was more angry than hurt. Outraged that my family’s scorn might now extend to Kit.
That him choosing me made him as wrong as I always felt I was.
That my mother’s reservations were about more than us having only known each other half a year. That she was disappointed in me.
I was too scared to look at her, to see the mirth stripped from her face at the reminder of my shortcomings, but her voice rang out clearly.
“Merrick, those opinions may be yours, but they are not welcome in my house.”
Of course, I looked at her then. How could I not? I stared with my jaw hanging slack and tears creating fresh tracks down my face.
“This is a joyous moment,” Mother continued, “and a union we should celebrate. Just as we should celebrate Penny and Kit. Everyone deserves someone who makes them happy.”
Yes, they did.
I did.
I really did.
I couldn’t say that, or anything else, with my tongue tied up in shock, but I nodded and gulped at the thickness in my throat and, when my mother looked at me, she smiled.
“What about your lovely wife, Merrick?” Sayla had pulled free of Warren, who was fumbling his way through clasping the chain around her wrist while she aimed all her ire at our half-brother. “The woman no one has met, and that you have not deigned to tell us about? Does she bring you happiness?”
Kit made a choked sound I covered with my bark of a laugh.
I thought I’d been happy before, but now I was gleeful. I was almost glad Merrick had come home, after all. Without realizing, he’d wandered onto a battlefield on which he was vastly outnumbered, and I’d never felt so much like the victor.
Warren had blushed his way through his proposal, but his bright red was nothing in comparison to the purple flush of rage saturating Merrick’s face.
He gripped the edge of the table while casting a scowl from Sayla to me to Kit.
He looked primed for violence, enough so that I took up my dinner knife.
If he raised a hand to my sister or my intended, he would lose it. Blunt blade or no.
“Sayla,” Mother said, sounding aghast. “What are you talking about?”
She didn’t get the chance to answer before Merrick launched into a response of his own.
“All right, if this is the time for honesty”—he targeted Kit and me—“which of you would like to tell everyone what you’ve really been up to for the past six months?”
His attention settled on me, taunting because he knew how much I cared. He knew how badly he could hurt me, because he already had. Over and over for the whole of my life.
“Penwell,” he declared, “how about you? You’re rarely at a loss for words.”
I kept my hold on the knife as I stood.
“You know what?” I loomed over him, hoping I looked more menacing than afraid. “I do have something to say.”
Merrick reposed in his seat like it was his turn to watch a show. I intended to give him exactly that.
“I warned you not to come back here,” I said, biting at every word. “I told you we didn’t need your help, and you should have stayed away. Your life is in Ashpoint, mine is here, and you’re no longer welcome in it.”
Merrick remained seated for a handful of seconds before he planted his feet and pushed back to stand. I was still taller than him, just enough to look down my nose at his furrowed brow and snarling lips.
“Is this what you thought Father intended when he left you the farm?” he asked. “That you could become a tyrant? Throw me out in the cold after nightfall and cast me aside? Maybe it is, because that’s what he did to me the day you were born.”
I'd been taught to withdraw from him. Retreat. Surrender. But those were the actions of a frightened child, and I was a man now. And for all his resistance, I had him on the run.
“It only got worse after that godsdamned fire,” Merrick snapped. “I saw the way he coddled you, and I didn’t even recognize him. And when his judgment started to fail along with his body, something had to be done.”
All my resolve and every scrap of self-righteousness withered as the implications of his statement sank in.
Merrick was a Bone Man. He had been for years. He stole Father's body as a sacrifice for Eeus. He intended the farm to be another tribute. He had shown his willingness to do anything for his position. Lie, cheat, and attempt murder. Or succeed at it.
“Merrick…” I used the last of my air to breathe the question, “What did you do?”
The ensuing silence was palpable, a nasty taste, and I wondered if everyone else had deduced what I had. I didn't need to wonder long because Merrick kept speaking and removed all doubt.
“I hoped you would succumb to the hemlock the same way Father did, but that one”—he stabbed a finger at Kit—“was so damned and determined to save you that he ruined everything.”
Kit stood so suddenly his chair tipped over and crashed onto the floor. It sounded like breaking, or maybe that was me, fracturing under the weight of a horribly undeniable truth.
“L-leave.” My voice sounded foreign in the roar of my ears. “Leave me… leave us, alone.”
He intended to argue. I saw the protest brewing and I wasn't sure I was strong enough to withstand another blow. I shrunk back, feeling helpless and small and defeated when I thought I'd finally won.
Then there was a presence at my back. A damp body and warm hands wrapped me up, steadying me because I was suddenly so very tired.
“Let me make something very clear to you,” Kit rumbled beside my ear. He was shaking, or I was. Maybe we both were.
I held the dinner knife, and Kit held me while saying all the things I couldn't.
“You are never welcome here again. This is my family now, and I will protect my own.”
Quiet returned, so bloated it seemed determined to drive me out of the room. I needed to leave. To run away from the life that felt less and less like mine.
“Fine.”
Merrick’s spiteful retort rattled me so hard my teeth chattered.
“Keep your farm,” he said, “and keep your family. They were never mine to begin with. And if you want this so damn bad, stay here. Don’t come back to Ashpoint. There’s nothing left for you there.”
He left the kitchen to storm through the living area, gathering his bags and belongings in a fit of temper I didn't bother to watch. I didn't move at all from where I was pinned against Kit’s chest, tightly held and facing my mother. I knew all her moods but this one. I'd never seen this before.
The front door slammed, heralding Merrick's departure, but I still didn't budge. I wanted to cry, to scream, to apologize for leaving, for coming back, for existing.
“Pen?”
Kit’s fingers brushed my cheek.
I loved his touches, but I loathed his pity, so I broke free of him and ran.