Page 26 of A Lullaby for Witches

She swayed under his words, wanting so desperately to believe them. Shedidwant to stay, but for the wrong reasons. She wanted to stay because it was convenient, safe. She wanted to stay because she hated conflict and wanted to make everyone happy. But if she didn’t put her foot down now and take a stand, then she never would.

She shook her head. “I’m really sorry. I just... I’m sorry.”

For the first time Chris seemed to really understand that this was it. They’d had their false starts and close calls before, but this time she was sticking to her guns. He abruptly dropped her hands and stood up, and Augusta was reminded how much bigger than her he was.

“You know, I really thought you were in it for the long haul.” He shook his head. “You always play it safe with everything. But I guess this is the safe option for you. You’ll probably start dating the first guy you find at work and move in with him.” He gave a humorless snort of laughter.

“This isn’t easy, and I’m not playing it safe now,” she said, her voice small.

“Yeah, and that’s why it’s so fucking sad. You strung me along until you did the first brave thing in your life, and now you don’t need me anymore. Jesus, I can’t look at you right now. I’m going out.”

“Chris,” she started, but it was a half-hearted plea. There was so much pent-up anger in her, so many reasons why they didn’t work as a couple that she could explain to him, but what would be the point? They weren’t right for each other, and starting an argument wasn’t going to solve anything. Maybe it was better if he left while she packed up her stuff. What on earth had compelled her to do this today? She had work tomorrow. How was she going to hold herself together?

The door slammed shut, and a few minutes later she heard his car start outside. She stood in the silent apartment, afraid that if she so much as moved a finger, she might shatter completely. It was the kind of moment that she would look back on years later, understanding it as a pivotal step in her life. But right now, it was real and raw and horrible, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

14

Margaret

Young men are plenty but sweethearts few

If my love leaves me, what shall I do?

—“The Queen of Hearts,” Traditional Folk Song

“Not hungry tonight, Margaret?”

I glared at Henry from across the table. He hadn’t taken his gaze off me all dinner, and I didn’t like the knowing glint in his eye. It had been nearly two weeks since my last meeting with Jack, and I still had not told him of my condition. My stomach had been in turmoil all day, and I was in turns ravenous and then sickened by the mere thought of eating. I had spent most of the meal pushing food around on my plate to make it appear that I had eaten some of the wretched-smelling meat.

My mother frowned at my plate. “Don’t waste your mutton—it’s good meat,” she admonished. It didn’t matter that we could afford it and then some; my mother was ever the frugal New Englander.

Since Jenny Hough’s husband and his friends had come to our house, there had been a shift in the dynamics between my parents and me. My mother’s ever-present mild annoyance with me had curdled into downright dislike, and my father avoided me altogether. I didn’t know if they had told any of my brothers of what had transpired, but I rather thought they hadn’t, for they would not want word to spread even further. Still, I dared not see any more women, for fear of more rumors spreading, more angry mobs at our doorstep.

Dinner dragged on, and I forced myself to nibble at a roll. When my mother’s attention had shifted back to her conversation with Father, I excused myself.

I only barely made it to the basin in my room before I was sick. When I’d rinsed my mouth and put myself to rights, I stepped back into the hall and came face-to-face with Henry.

He must have been waiting for me, listening as I moved about the room, because he pulled me toward him by the arm as soon as I opened the door.

“Take your hand off me,” I snapped.

But his grip on my arm only tightened. He was looking down at me as if he could see all my sins written plainly across my face. Did he know about Mrs. Hough and her accusations after all? Did he know about what I did at night, about the abilities I had kept so carefully hidden all these years?

His words surprised me. “I know about you and your secret lover,” he hissed back. “So you might consider being a little kinder to me, lest I tell Father.”

My blood ran cold. This was somehow worse. “How?” I asked before I could stop myself. But he didn’t need to answer; I already knew. He had followed me after all, seen me with Jack. “What do you want?” I asked with a dry mouth. It wasn’t that I was ashamed or scared to tell my parents about Jack, but I had no assurance from him yet. I wouldn’t go to them until he had proposed, made some promise to me. The humiliation of rejection would be too much to bear. If they even suspected that I was carrying on an affair it would only cement their decision to send me away.

Now that he knew he had my attention, Henry drew back slightly with a smile. “I want my sister back. I want the pretty girl with dark curls to laugh and talk with me again like when we were children. I want you to stop treating me as if I were an afterthought, an annoyance. I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you.” He took my chin in his hand, gently tilting it up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “This lover will be the ruin of you.”

I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, a way a brother should never look at his sister. “You’re mad,” I said, pulling away. “Leave me alone.”

He feinted toward me as if he would grab me again, and I automatically shielded my stomach.

I realized my mistake at once as Henry’s eyes grew wide. Silence swelled around us, thick and suffocating. “There’s a child,” he said at last in a whisper. “You’re carrying his child.”

“So what if I am?” I said with a confidence I did not feel.

“Does he know? Does Jack Pryce know that you’re carrying his child?”

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