Page 68 of House of Salt and Sorrows
“He died just before Mercy was born. He was nearly fifteen by then and all gray whiskers and beard.”
The room grew somber, tallying another death.
Verity spoke up first. “I would like to build sandcastles in the snow.”
“So would we,” Ligeia said, speaking on behalf of the triplets.
Mercy and Honor nodded.
I smiled. “Good. Why don’t we get breakfast, and then we can start on all the planning afterward?”
“Do you think Morella will be okay?” Honor’s voice sounded pinched, and she dug fingernails into the palm of her hand,worrying.
“She just needs to rest. Growing one baby is hard enough, and she’s got two.”
“I just don’t want her to die,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t want any more of us to die.”
“The midwife will be here soon,” Lenore reminded her. “I’m sure she’ll have something to help with Morella’s pain. And the rest of us are fine.”
“Eulalie was fine, until she wasn’t.”
“That was just a fluke. One terrible, horrible, awful fluke.”
“And the others?” Her voice rang out sharply.
Lenore shrugged at me, asking for help.
Before I could respond, Verity looked down into her lap, twisting her hands till her fingers turned red. “Maybe I should go away.”
I frowned. “Why would you say that?”
When she glanced up, tears shone in her eyes. “I’m the curse. Everything started with me. I killed Mama.”
The triplets rushed to her, kneeling at her feet.
“You did no such thing.”
“That wasn’t your fault, dear heart.”
“There is no curse. Don’t think that way.”
She clasped her hands tighter, her tiny fingernails growing white with pressure. “But if it hadn’t been for me, she’d still be here.”
“We don’t know that,” I said, stroking her hair. “Pontus called her back to the sea then. He would have done that no matter what. And even though we were all very sad about Mama, everyone was so happy to meet you. Papa used to pick you up out of your crib and say, ‘Look at my happy girl, look at that beautiful smile.’ Without you, Verity, we’d just have this awful sadness in our lives. You brought us joy.”
Her lips quivered, and she seemed desperate to believe these words. “I’m glad I was born,” she finally said. “And I’m glad you’re my sisters.”
We all came together in a big group hug. I closed my eyes as my arms folded over Verity, praying nothing would happen to any of us again.
Churning arrived in a flurry of snowflakes.
Papa was in the foyer, waiting for the guests to arrive. Morella rested upstairs, mustering the energy to make it through dinner. She longed to be seen as the true and proper hostess, but the twins had other ideas.
The midwife had found nothing wrong with her. Though the twins did feel large, she blamed the fresh sea air and our healthy diet for that. She showed me stretches to help ease the tension in Morella’s lower back and said to keep using the oil and lotion. Verity watched, enthralled and eager to help as she could.
Papa looked down our receiving line, counting with a frown. “Where is Camille?”
“Coming, coming.” Camille breezed in, slipping into place. Her hair was windswept, and try as she might, she couldn’t keep smiling.
