Chapter 13 Aftermath
Chapter thirteen
Aftermath
Rose
The sea forgives the desperate, but never the aftermath. The deed is a flash of violence; the regret is a lifelong drowning.
— A Sailor’s Guide to Dying Poorly
My family home appeared smaller than I remembered.
It was still long and overflowing with perfectly symmetrical windows that boasted white and purple wisteria that hugged the brick walls.
The gate was still made of sturdy iron that stretched across our property.
Perfectly manicured lawns and bushes trimmed with expert precision.
The smell was still the same — florals mixed with the wet London air.
If it were all the same, then it could only stand to reason that I was what had changed.
The beat of my heart no longer timed itself with the wind that danced around, carrying the threat of rain beneath gray skies.
I never gave much thought to what it would be like when I finally made it home.
Maybe it was because I thought I would die out on the Mysterious Sea, or maybe that was the reason my feet were solidified to the ground beneath me.
I was half surprised that wisteria hadn’t taken root around me.
A carriage rumbled behind me, wheels over uneven stone.
The clip clopping of the horse’s hooves is loud in my ears.
No seagulls or wave lullabies to drift off to.
An uneasiness settled in my stomach. Movement outside the east window, drawing room, drew my attention, and my mother’s thin silhouette came into view.
She fussed with some flowers on a shelf, all the while speaking to whoever was with her.
She was thinner than when I left her. No doubt worry is taking its toll on her.
A pang of guilt clung to my chest that increased with every rapid beat of my heart.
All I had to do was open the gate and step forward.
It was simple movements that would alleviate her worry.
If I entered the pristine white door trimmed with black, would my mother be able to see the blood on my hands?
Would she see what a year had done to me?
Yes, my hair was shorter, and I was more muscular now, but those were only surface changes.
Part of me feared that when I walked through that door, she wouldn’t recognize me.
I stared down at the simple blue gown I’d put on a year ago when I escaped into the night.
It was tight over my chest and stomach, but clean and just as it had been that night.
Running a hand over my neck, I fiddled with the star necklace I always wore.
It was mid-afternoon on a Friday. Everyone would be home, even Oliver.
Indecision is still a decision.
Bash’s voice was out of place here. It belonged with the sea, with the wide open blue surrounding us.
Through the terror clogging my throat and the erratic race of my heart, I pushed open the gate and took the first steps forward.
Forcing air into my lungs, I kept my balance and made it to the front door and stilled.
Should I knock on my own front door? Did I need to be announced? If there were a protocol for runaway daughters, I didn’t know it. God, it was hard to breathe.
I lifted the golden door knocker and lowered it once, then twice.
This was silly. I should have waited on the ship for Oscar.
Inu was instructed to take them to a safe house for the night before traveling to Corpse Cove this afternoon.
Oscar was supposed to make his way home tonight.
It would have made more sense for me to wait for him, but then I would’ve seen Bash. That was a fate I couldn’t endure.
To have him and leave him again- no, this was better.
The door swung open to reveal a gray-haired woman with keen brown eyes. Loretta.
Her mouth fell open as she brought her hand to her mouth. Eyes welling up.
“Miss Rose?” she asked.
As if I were a ghost rather than someone she’d known since the first day of my life.
“It’s me,” I said, shrugging my shoulder awkwardly.
Loretta’s lip quivered, and before I knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around me, her hand holding the back of my head into her chest. I tried to breathe in, but between the dress and Loretta, air was a thing of the past.
“You left in the middle of the night, you foolish girl. We were all beside ourselves with worry. Then you write only every few months, what were you thinking? You had us all worried sick. Your poor mother- your mother! Come with me!”
Air rushed into my lungs as she released her hold on me, only to drag me down the hall that smelled of lavender. It choked me and permeated throughout my lungs with lethal precision.
It smelled like home.
“Mrs. Bailey!” Loretta screeched.
Never once had I heard our maid lose her composure. Not even when she watched Oscar fall out of the cherry tree in the backyard and break his arm. She was always calm and collected, with wisdom to divvy out on every occasion.
“Lorretta? Good heavens, what is it?” My mother asked, popping her head out of the drawing room.
She was still beautiful. Her golden curls were still meticulously kept, but where rosy cheeks had once lived were pale and hollow cheeks.
Lines that probably drove her mad branched out from her eyes.
It would have been easy to convince me it’d been years rather than just one by looking at her.
Worry had aged her, and I was responsible for that.
“Hi, Mama,” I said too quietly.
She stared open-mouthed at me, her mouth opening and shutting of its own accord.
“Robert,” she gasped out. “Robert!”
My father’s quiet voice murmured something from the drawing room, but my feet were stuck to the wooden floorboards beneath me.
“Ophelia?” my father asked, rounding the corner. “What is it?”
He stilled when he saw me. God, his cheeks had been so round a year ago. His hair, which was always more brown than gray, was now the reverse. His bushy eyebrows even held gray that I would have remembered. A year had wreaked havoc on him. Too thin, too frail.
My eyes stung as they filled with tears. I’d done this. While I was off seeing the world and falling in love, becoming a pirate, they suffered.
He barrelled towards me and wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me with the familiar smell of cognac mixed with mint.
I fell into him; the tears falling harder.
Overwhelming guilt choked me, but I selfishly let myself find comfort in him.
His shoulders shook, and my heart lurched at the fact that I could wrap my arms around him, whereas a year ago, I couldn’t.
“My sweet, wild girl. I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry, I was wrapped up in my own grief. I didn't see how much you were hurting. We should have been there for you so you didn’t feel like you had to run away. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
This was the worst sort of torture. That he should have been here blaming himself when it wasn’t even in the least bit his fault.
“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Hush, darling, all that matters is your home now. Is Oscar with you?” Mama asked.
I nodded. “He is, but he had an errand to run and will be home in a few hours.”
My father didn’t bother to release me, but only held me tighter.
“An errand? After two years in Paris, an errand was more important than seeing his family?” Mama’s voice grew more shrill with each word.
Finally, my father pulled away and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“There now, Ophelia, what matters is that they are home now or on their way home. We will have a dinner to celebrate. Loretta, send word to Ruby and tell her to bring the whole family!” my father declared with red eyes and redder cheeks.
I felt out of place in my own room. The walls too confining, the floors too still.
I missed the swell of the ocean beneath my feet.
I missed the warmth and coziness of Bash’s cabin.
Just like that, dressed in my old clothes that felt too rigid and encompassing, I realized I was ruined for polite society.
The sea was in my blood now, and every second I was away from it, I heard its call reverberating through my bones. I reached up and wrapped my hand around my necklace as I waited for the knock on the door that would soothe this serpent trapped inside of me.
Like he knew how much I needed him through that unique bond we’d always shared, two taps rested against my childhood bedroom door.
I barely breathed as I rushed across the room and flung it open.
There he was.
Too skinny and eyes sunken, but alive.
I threw my arms around my brother, and the tears I hadn’t realised I’d been saving up for him released from my eyes in a torrent. Even though he was the one trapped in hell for months, he held me close and murmured that it was all right, that we were all safe.
Except we weren’t all safe.
Oscar and Bash were safe, and that was what mattered more than anything else.
After an eternity and not nearly enough time had passed, I released Oscar and stepped back into my room, wiping my eyes.
I didn’t have to ask Oscar to close the door. Even though I’d received word that Inu had made it to the safe house and that they were all safe, it was another thing entirely to see my brother after fearing the worst.
“He’s safe? He’s–”
The words tumbled from my mouth impulsively, and I immediately knew I was the worst sister who ever lived. I should have asked how Oscar was and ten thousand more questions first.
“None of that, Rosie,” he said, rubbing the top of my head with his hand. “You are the reason we both are out of there. You don’t get to feel guilty about anything.”
He sat down next to my vanity and stretched out his legs, laying his head back and breathing in deeply.
“You don’t know how nice it is not to smell moldy piss,” he said.
“Bash is fine. As your older brother, I feel the need to tell you that it is unsettling the way he wanted to be in there. You are the only reason he left because he was afraid of what kind of shit you’d gotten yourself into.
Speaking of which, what kind of shit have you gotten yourself into? ”
Despite the weight in my chest, I smiled and rubbed at my wrist, now covered by the light pink dress I wore.
“Nothing I can’t get myself out of,” I lied.
Oscar arched an eyebrow, and I was lucky he was too tired to press the issue. I didn’t want to talk about the price I paid for this moment. For now, I just wanted to enjoy the prize.
My throat was thick with what I needed to say. What I had been practicing for months. Now that the time was here, I hardly knew where to begin.
“Oscar,” I said, voice cracking on his name.
“Oh no, that sounds serious,” Oscar said, sitting up and folding his hands between his legs.
I swallowed, ignoring the burning in my eyes.
“Thank you for saving him.”
Oscar let out a long breath that almost felt like a relief, like he feared what I was going to say.
“He’s my friend, but you are my sister. Believe it or not, and please note that I barely believe it some days, I would do it again if it meant you stayed whole,” he said.
My chest heaved like it was about to break. Like just the mention of me being whole threatened to undo that glued-together porcelain I’d become.
“I don’t think I’m whole, Oscar,” I whispered. “I’ve done terrible things. I became something–I don’t think there’s redemption for it.”
Oscar stood and swayed only a moment before he gathered himself and kneeled before me, taking my hands in his. What a selfish person I was to be asking for comfort from him when he was the one who’d been in jail.
“Rosie, look at me,” he ordered, voice stern.
“You are still my sister. You did what you needed to and did the least amount of harm you had to. I, for one, am grateful. I don’t know if there is a heaven, but I do know that it sounds fucking boring, so wherever you end up, I go, and that’s enough. Got it?”
I choked out a half-sob, half-laugh and sniffed. “Oscar, I’m fairly sure that’s blasphemy.”
“Goddamn right it is,” he said.
And God help me, but I snorted, a terrible sound of snot, relief, and despair.
“Inu loves you very much,” I said quietly.
Oscar nodded, standing as his smile faded. “I’ll never understand why, but thank you for not letting her throw herself into danger. For coming up with a plan and being smart about it.”
“That’s what you and I do, right? We always have each other’s backs,” I said, wiping at my tears.
Oscar scratched at the back of his head, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind if you could get her to stop yelling at me and calling me an idiot, though. I can’t tell if she’s happy I’m back or if she wants to throw me back into Newgate.”
“I doubt she knows the answer either,” I said
“Fair enough,” he said.
Silence stretched, and I stared down at the fine fabric that lay against my skin. The fabric that no longer felt like it belonged to me.
“I don’t know if I know how to be this person anymore,” I said.
“Me neither,” he said, fighting with his collar. “But we will figure it out together. Speaking of which, maybe you could fill me in on what happens next?”
I could only avoid this conversation for so long.
I took a deep breath and said the damning words.
“I have a plan.”