Chapter Thirty-One
It was exactly seven steps from the front windows to the sofa in the sitting room.
Amelia knew this because she’d spent the entire morning pacing from one to the other.
She’d sit long enough on said sofa just to jump up again, full of anxious, twitchy energy.
Her hands flexed, and she tried to crack her knuckles repeatedly.
“Would you like some tea?” Helen asked, her tone gentle.
Amelia shook her head. She didn’t think she could stomach anything.
She had agreed to this plan—it had largely been her own idea even—but she was still twisted up in knots about it.
The fact of the matter was that none of them knew exactly how desperate or how determined Dean was to claim what he felt he owned.
Arthur had been dispatched on a mission of investigation, and Cody was busy creating the illusion that Amelia was home alone.
Helen had agreed to come and stay with her to keep her company.
Well, more like she had simply shown up and announced her intent to stay until Cody returned, for which Amelia would love her forever.
At first, Amelia had been opposed to the notion, fearful that she was putting someone else in harm’s way.
As she looked at Helen, placidly reading a manual on bicycle repair of all things, Amelia felt a wave of gratitude for her friend.
She was calm and collected, qualities Amelia was not currently feeling.
“They’ll be fine,” Helen said off-handedly, not lifting her eyes from the booklet.
“I know,” Amelia answered automatically. She paused her pacing. “To whom are you referring?”
“All of them, I suppose,” Helen said, slowly turning a page. “The children are safely away. Arthur should be well on his way by now, and Cody should have turned for home.”
Amelia nodded. She knew that Helen meant this to be comforting, but all it did was give Amelia further incentive to pace about, gazing out the front window. “How long since the train reached the water stop?”
Helen shifted her booklet to her left hand, and with her right, fished about in the pocket of her vest and produced a dainty pocket watch. “About fifteen minutes ago.”
Amelia did some quick math in her head. Cody would be riding cross-country, but some of the terrain was rough going. If all went well, it would be three, more likely four, hours until he reached home.
Anything could delay him, Amelia fretted, lacing her fingers together absently. A path could be washed out, his horse could go lame…
“Oh, isn’t this clever?” Helen murmured. “A new type of saddle for a safety bicycle—with springs!” She held up the page for Amelia to see, who glanced at it.
“How can you be so calm?” Amelia demanded. “I feel like I’m going to jump clean out of my skin.”
Helen considered for a moment, letting the booklet close while keeping her index finger between the pages to mark her place.
“You really think I’m calm?” Amelia nodded, which made Helen laugh.
“Darling, I’ve read this same page at least a dozen times over.
I just haven’t wanted to add to your anxieties. ”
Amelia stared at her. “So, you’re just as fretful as I am?”
“Well,” Helen hedged, not unkindly. “I wouldn’t say that, but I’m far less composed than I may look.”
Amelia went back to the sofa, sidling between it and the footstool to sit next to Helen. “How do you do it? You look so serene!”
Helen gently tossed the manual onto the footstool. “Years of practice,” she explained. “If you look afraid in front of a classroom of children, they’ll eat you alive—they’re like sharks that smell blood in the water. Just as prone to biting, too.”
Amelia stared at her again, unsure whether she was being serious or not.
Helen stared right back, that same serene expression on her face.
Amelia was just at the point of taking her in complete earnestness when the corner of Helen’s mouth twitched.
Amelia’s eyes seized on that, and in the next moment, Helen’s composure was crumbling completely.
She dissolved into infectious laughter, which made Amelia exhale through her nose. Quite unexpectedly, giggles began to bubble up in her. Before she knew it, she was laughing right along with Helen. Some of the tension in her body eased as she did so.
When the fit had passed, she leaned back against the sofa, sighing and folding her hands over her stomach. Helen watched her, likewise leaning back on her left shoulder so that she was facing Amelia.
“In all seriousness,” she said, “I examine the facts. Have we done all that we can to prepare for the day? Are there any further precautions we might have taken?”
Amelia considered for a moment, then shook her head. “No, we’ve done all that we can.”
Helen took Amelia’s hand. “Then trust in your friends. There’s far more of us than there are of him.”
That was something Amelia hadn’t even considered. She’d been on her own for so long that she’d gotten used to it being a fight between the two of them. Now, however, she had friends on her side. She had allies, steady ones, ready to put themselves in harm’s way on her behalf.
Without warning, her eyes began to sting. She swallowed hard, a lump of sentiment lodged in her throat. Helen didn’t say anything but squeezed Amelia’s hand reassuringly. Amelia swiped at her eyes, then cleared her throat.
“I suppose we’d better find some way of passing the time before I go completely mad,” she said with forced lightness which was significantly underscored by the way that her voice cracked.
“We could try to build a bicycle,” Helen offered, nudging her discarded booklet with the toe of her boot.
Amelia let her head loll over in her direction and gave her a look from beneath her brows.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Helen sighed.
“Far too impractical. Besides, I’ve left my tools at home. ”
Amelia let out another laugh, which made Helen smile. “You and Arthur really are quite well suited,” Amelia said.
The sudden change in direction made Helen arch a brow. “How do you mean?”
“Neither of you seems to ever get brought low by life,” Amelia explained. “No matter how bad things are, you can still make others laugh.”
Helen considered this for a moment. “It just seems easier than falling to pieces, really. It doesn’t mean that we don’t feel things; I suspect we feel them quite deeply.”
“I think that’s why Arthur likes you,” Amelia continued with a smile. “I think that a lot of people dismiss him for being a fool without bothering to know the man underneath it all.”
“That’s their loss, then,” Helen said with an eloquent shrug. “I rather suspect it’s like how some would dismiss Cody for being… prickly.”
Amelia looked up at the ceiling, the solid wood planks and beams. “He is rather gruff,” she agreed. “But there’s something else beneath it. I personally suspect he’s a sentimentalist.”
“There you have it then,” Helen sighed. “We’ve chosen two very silly men who go about hiding themselves in very silly ways.”
They fell silent, both lost in thought. The house was strangely quiet—no children running back and forth, Cody’s booming voice absent.
There wasn’t even the sound of livestock outside, as the herd was still out at summer pasture.
Amelia had been able to ignore how empty the house was until this point, consumed by her own nervous energy.
Now, the silence was underscoring everything she did. It was so quiet that she swore she could hear the delicate ticking of Helen’s watch, tucked back into her pocket. The house groaned as it cooled for the evening, settling in on itself, and Amelia stiffened.
“I heard something,” she said, sitting up stiffly.
“It’s just the house,” Helen said soothingly, putting her hand on Amelia’s arm. “It’s so quiet out here, your ears will start playing tricks on you.”
Amelia reluctantly let herself lean back once more, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from a vigilant cycle of glancing from the front door to the kitchen and back again.
“Come, let’s think of a way to pass the time,” Helen said, sitting up and clapping her hands once. “What about a game?”
Amelia shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate.”
“Oh, come now,” Helen said, standing. She began to bustle about the room, poking about in drawers and shelves. “I find it hard to believe Cody doesn’t keep a deck of cards in here somewhere.”
At least it’s a way to pass the time, Amelia allowed. I don’t think this day will ever end.
***
Wakefulness came upon Amelia as suddenly as a lightning strike. Before her eyes were even fully open, she was sitting bolt upright, her heart hammering. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dark.
Dark? she thought with alarm. She looked about and realized that twilight had indeed fallen, the sun only making itself known in a vague glow just past the horizon.
Next to her on the sofa, Helen likewise was dozing quietly, her breathing light and even.
She had one boot propped up on the footstool, and a deck of cards had partially spilled from her hand.
The last thing that Amelia remembered was them debating about what to play.
Amelia, exhausted from a day of fretting, had closed her eyes for only a moment.
That moment had evidently turned into hours. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sleep disorientation. She reached out and shook Helen by the shoulder. Helen sat up so quickly that the cards spilled onto the floor. Her hands were up like a boxer’s, her shoulders squared.
“What is it?” she said, looking around.
“We fell asleep,” Amelia said. “It’s dark—what time is it?”
Helen blinked twice and lowered her fists.
She fumbled about sleepily for a moment with her watch, fishing it out by the chain.
“Half past eight,” she said. A line appeared between her brows.
“Wait—that can’t be right.” She looked around again, taking in the state of the darkened house. “Oh no,” she whispered.
Amelia was already ahead of her. Something must have gone wrong: Cody should have been back by now, at least an hour ago.
The grim realization settled around them, and they exchanged a look that spoke not only of their worry but also of the understanding that they were on their own for the time being.
Amelia was at the point of jumping up to pace again when there was the smallest sound from outside.
It wasn’t anything identifiable, just a sort of shuffling like when grass is parted.
It was the sound of footsteps on dry dirt.
Amelia and Helen both looked toward the front door, their eyes fixed and ears straining.
The sound grew louder, and it was clear that someone was running outside. “Cody?” Helen asked Amelia in a whisper.
“No horse,” Amelia answered.
Without another word, Helen reached down next to the sofa and calmly lifted a rifle, a repeating Winchester. She swung the lever arm out, clicked it back into place, and aimed it straight at the door. She glanced up at Amelia, who nodded grimly.
On bare feet, she went to stand next to the screened door, fishing her own little gun out of her pocket.
She held it up steadily at shoulder height, ready to fire at the would-be intruder.
Her mouth was dry, but her palms were slick with sweat, and she forced herself to firm up her grip on the gun lest it slip from her hand.
Just on the other side of the door, the footsteps grew louder. They thudded heavily up the steps to the porch, the wood groaning beneath them. Amelia cast another glance at Helen as she reached for the door.
There was no denying it now: They weren’t alone anymore.