20
CECILY
It was too quiet.
Cecily woke and lay still, listening. The fire had burned to ashes and the air was cold. Her arm throbbed when she shifted under the blanket.
Finn.
She looked down at the foot of her bed. He was not there.
The sound of his slow, steady breathing in the mornings had become familiar. She pictured him as he usually slept: his long body folded awkwardly on the mat, one arm flung over his eyes. But the mat was bare. No boots. No cloak.
“Finn?” she whispered.
There was no answer.
A floorboard creaked below. Someone spoke in a low voice. A kettle hissed. The house was waking. Maybe Finn had gone down early.
She pushed herself upright and waited for the dizziness. It came, but it did not take her down. Her body still felt weak, but the fever had broken. She was awake now, fully awake.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, shivering, her good hand pressed to the mattress for balance. Her injured arm was wrapped thickly, bound from wrist to elbow.
Where was he? She could still hear his voice near her ear.
“Sleep, Cecily. I’ll be right back.”
She remembered the kiss. The way he had looked at her for a long moment before he leaned in.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and went downstairs.
Master Nicholas stood near the hearth, stirring something over the fire, his sleeves rolled up and his hair uncombed. His wife was kneading dough at the table.
The physician looked up. “You’re awake,” he said. “Are you strong enough to be walking?”
Cecily swallowed. “Where is Finn? Where is my… brother?” she asked.
Master Nicholas raised his eyes. “I don’t know. He’s not in your room?”
“No.”
His wife paused, dough clinging to her fingers. “I saw him leave yesterday, before the sun went down. Haven’t seen him return.”
Master Nicholas filled a bowl of soup and set it in front of Cecily. “Sit. Eat. You’ll feel stronger once there’s heat in you.”
She finished the soup, but her legs would not hold her much longer. She made it back to her room before she collapsed onto the bed.
She tried to think but couldn’t keep hold of a thought. Finn had dragged her half-dead through the streets and begged strangers for help. He had sat by her bed and told her, more than once, that he was not going anywhere. He would never leave her.
He had kissed her.
And now he had vanished.
∞∞∞
When Master Nicholas changed her bandage again, the skin was still red, still swollen, but it was no longer weeping.
“It’s improving,” he said. “Slowly.”
“Finn?” she asked.
The physician only shook his head.
∞∞∞
A few days later, Master Nicholas handed her a bundle.
“My wife wants you to have this,” he said. “Her old dress. And a cloak. We took it out of the pay we owed Finn.”
Cecily took the bundle.
“You keep looking at the door like a hound pulling against its rope,” he added gruffly. “I know you want to leave and search for your… brother. But I warn you, you’re not well enough to go out.”
“Thank you,” was all Cecily said.
When he left, she closed her eyes. Maybe Finn had decided she was too much trouble. Maybe he believed he could never keep her safe.
She opened her eyes again and stared at the door.
No. Finn might argue and storm off, but he’d never abandon her like this. If he had left, something was wrong.
She knew where he would have gone.
The shed.
∞∞∞
She waited until the next morning. She ate, then let Master Nicholas inspect her arm again and wrap it fresh.
When he finished, she said, “I’m going out.”
“You should not.”
“I know, but I must,” she said. “To find him.”
He studied her, then exhaled sharply. “You have the stubbornness of a goat. Fine. Go in daylight. And return before dark.”
“I will,” Cecily said.
The physician’s wife stepped forward and pressed a small parcel into her hand. “Bread and cheese,” she said.
At the door, Master Nicholas called after her. “If he has chosen to leave, do not chase him into the woods like a child. You’ll get yourself killed.”
Cecily tightened her jaw. Finn could not have left her.
“I’m not chasing him,” she said. “I’m finding out what happened.”
Then she left.
∞∞∞
The cold raked at her face as soon as she stepped outside. She passed the river road where Finn had carried her. She passed the edge of town. By the time she reached the woods, her arm ached fiercely and her legs trembled.
The shed stood where she remembered it.
“Thank God,” she said, but then she noticed the door hanging open. Why would he leave it open?
She stepped inside. The machine was gone.
“Finn,” she said aloud.
She turned slowly, searching for any sign of the machine’s iron frame. The cold pressed in on all sides.
Finn was gone. And so was the machine.