Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
I look at Holly, who shrugs. “His usual,” she says. “He warns that I better keep the homestead up, that I better watch over all, and that I better pray to God he returns to find things in order.” She walks over to the table and pulls some mushrooms we had collected earlier out of a bag to add to the stew we’re making. “He didn’t ask me to spy on you, or to test you, or to make sure you don’t burn down the chapel. I know that’s what you’re getting at.” She does look up from cutting then. “And even if he did, we wouldn’t. We like you, Ember. You’re on the same team as us. Trust in that.”
“It’s hard to trust anyone anymore,” I admit.
“Scarecrow did say your husband was a bad man,” Violet says.
“No,” I nearly spit out. “Christopher is his name, and he’s far from a bad man. He’s a genuine, kind, and gentle man. He’s a protector, caring, and loving. He’s not bad.”
“Then why did he try to kill your father?” Violet asks. Her tone isn’t accusing but simply curious.
“We didn’t try to kill him when we started the fire. We just wanted a way out. Christopher was being held captive. We were chained together and knew we couldn’t get far without authorities coming to us. Papa Rich was away… or at least we thought he was.” I take a deep breath and say the truth, even though it hurts to. “Papa Rich is the bad man. He’s always been the bad man.” I look at Holly and then back to Violet. “But so is Scarecrow. You both know this.”
“Scarecrow is no worse than our father,” Holly says, which makes me sad for both girls.
They’ve never known happiness and comfort. At least I got that for a short time with Christopher. Even though my life was chaos in New York, and there were so many times I was unhappy… I did have happy moments. I did have times of love and affection. I had hope. I had so much hope.
Holly and Violet, however… they’ve only had darkness.
“Why did you leave him?” Violet asks. “Christopher. If he’s such a good man, why come back to… this?”
“For him,” I admit. “It wasn’t fair for me to stay. He didn’t ask for me. He didn’t deserve to have his nightmare continue. I did what was best, regardless of how hard it was.”
“I’m sorry,” Violet says as she stands to approach me. I think she’s coming to hug me but stops midway as if she’s gone too far as it is. “But I’m glad you’re here. We can make a home. We can have a family. I promise.”
I hear Holly sigh, and I turn to face her as she says, “Let’s just focus on surviving the storm. One day at a time, remember? That’s how we live. One day at a time.”
10
Ember
The pounding of the door causes all of us to jump. We stare at each other wide-eyed, uncertain what to do.
Feeling as if I should be the one to defend us, if need be, I pick up a fire stoker and place my finger on my lips to tell the girls to remain quiet.
Another knock and a rattle of the door that we fortunately have locked has us all jumping again.
I hesitate at first but then pad over to the door, unsure of who could possibly be on the other side. I hold the poker high enough that I can bring it down on someone’s head if I need to. Or maybe I should have it in a position so I can stab them…
Or maybe we should just hide and hope no one enters.
Another knock. This one louder.
Is it the person I could have sworn was watching us? Was he just biding his time to catch us when we’re least expecting it? But why knock on the door? Why not just force his way in?
And then I hear a muffled voice on the other side. “Open up! Ember! Are you in there? Ember!”
Another knock and then the rattle of the handle.
“Christopher?” I open the door, cautiously, unsure.
Snow swirls around him, the tip of his nose red from the cold, and he’s bundled up so much that if I didn’t have a close relationship with the man, I may not have been able to recognize him.
“What are you doing here? How? How did you find me?”
Am I imagining him standing before me? Is this all in my head—wishful thinking?
The biting cold hitting my exposed skin is the only thing that is keeping sanity present. It acts like the slap to the face I need in order to remain in the present. I reach out to be sure I’m still awake or alive and touch his arm.
He’s here. He’s really here.