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Cyrus lets out a piercing cry. The crack of a shot rings out through the early morning. And a force slams against my body, searing me with heat and flinging me into the snow, just as my world goes black.
* * *
I’m so cold.
It’s dark when I open my heavy eyes, the only light a hazy orange glow from the dying embers of a fire. Swallowing hurts, and there’s something heavy pressing down on my chest. I try to sit up, but my arms are too achy, and whatever is on me won’t budge. Something wet and cold prods my face.
“Snip,” I manage.
His name prompts two happy thuds of his tail. I let him give me a sloppy kiss on the chin before he tilts his head up, ears pricked at the rustle of movement in the corner.
“You’re awake.” Catherine appears by the bed and Snip lowers his head back down, watching her with wary eyes.
“What...what happened?” My voice comes out in a raspy whisper.
Catherine raises a brow. “What happened? You ran off to play knight in shining armor and almost got yourself killed, that’s what happened.”
An image flashes across my mind of Cyrus standing with his pistol outstretched. My heart tightens, more painful than the ache in my shoulder. I can barely get the question out. “John?”
She gives an impatient sigh. “Mr. Barrett is wearing out the carpet downstairs waiting to see you.”
I melt back into the pillows, hot tears of relief springing to my eyes. The details don’t matter. John is alive, safe.
Catherine crosses her arms. “So, you and him.”
It hurts to breathe but I take long breath. “Yes, me and him.”
“I suppose I should be congratulating you.”
I don’t say anything.
Catherine moves to the window, restless, worrying at her shawl. “It’s over now, all over, isn’t it? You’ll be married and I’ll be the spinster sister, living with Mother and Father. Who would ever have thought? It’s almost funny the way things turned out.” But there’s no hint of humor in her voice.
I could tell her that it’s a light punishment for everything she put this family through, but what’s the point? If Mother or Father had cared to they might have sent her away, far away, but they turned a blind eye and so her reckless behavior went unchecked. She’s lucky that she’s been afforded the chance to live any sort of normal life at all. But despite it all, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of losing those close to me, or I am finally realizing just how fragile and precious life is, but it brings me no joy to see her miserable and cast down.
“I’m sorry, Catherine.”
She turns back to me, her brow raised in surprise. “Sorry?”
“For everything. That we aren’t friends, that you’re stuck here with me when you’d rather be with—”
“Stop it. I don’t want your apologies and I certainly don’t want your pity. You won the day, isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t feel as if I’ve won anything.” Why doesn’t she know it was never a competition? I never wished bad things for her. I close my eyes, wondering yet again what drives Catherine. All my life I’ve tried to understand my sister and the restless spirit and meanness inside her. But now I know, there’s no use trying to understand.
She presses her lips, studying me with naked disdain and a hint of curiosity. “Well, I hope you’ll be very happy,” she says tightly.
The edges of the room are fuzzy, my eyes heavy. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I just want...” Catherine moves toward the door, her hand at her eyes, her voice shaky. “I want what you have.”
By the time I register what she means she’s already out the door, and I’m too tired to call out after her.
* * *
When I awaken again John is there, sitting beside the bed, his head leaned back, dozing. His eyes flutter open, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Good morning.”
“John.” It’s the most delicious word, warming my mouth and running through my body like a flame.