Page 17 of House of Roots and Ruin
Hanna watched me carefully from her perch.
“Is it my fault you’re still here?”
“Oh no, darling,” she said in a warm rush. “Not at all. I had the choice. I chose to stay.”
My eyes filled with a sudden swell of unshed tears. How different would my life be if she hadn’t? Without her gentle affection, her practical advice, her warm shoulder to cry on…
“Thank you—” I broke off before the tears could fall. It sounded too short, too small a phrase to impart my gratitude, but it was all I could manage.
She bobbed her head and I hoped she understood everything those two words meant.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I shivered against the chill of the water but made no motion to leave it.
“You left for Hesperus as soon as the funerals were over,” she began, her voice growing distant and dreamy. “I remember how your little frame shook at mine…but when you returned, it was as though nothing had happened! You didn’t remember my death, you didn’t remember any of them, and I…it had been so many months since anyone had seen me, had talked to me…” Her eyes grew bright with tears and—ghosts shouldn’t be able to cry—she wiped them aside with the back of her hand. “It was selfish, I suppose. No. Itwasselfish…. But when you burst into your new rooms for the first time, when you raced up—ignoring your sisters’ worried glances—and hugged me, I was too selfish to say anything to change your view. I know it was wrong. I knew it then too. Every day I tried to hide away, watch over you from the shadows, let your sisters’ wards push me back, be unseen, but you saw me. You always saw me, Verity.”
Tears tracked down my face, salting the water with sorrow. I’d always thought ghosts to be eerie creatures of malice and retribution, haunting the living with their incessant demand to be remembered, to have their wrongs avenged.
But this was Hanna.
She was not a malevolent entity, hell-bent on harming us because we lived and she did not.
She was love. So much love.
It infused everything she’d done, every choice she’d made, every act she’d committed.
“I know you probably want to stay in there and stew on this,” she started cautiously, “but that cold water isn’t going to do youany good and I can see your fingers are wrinkled from here. Can we continue this talk in your room?”
I ran my thumbs over the pads of my fingers and nodded.
Hanna scrambled into motion again, helping me stand and wrapping the soft linen sheet around my quivering frame.
How is she doing this? How is she doing any of this?
She ushered me down the darkened corridor, briskly rubbing life back into my arms as I kept a watchful eye out for any glimpse of movement. It wasn’t just Ligeia and Rosalie I needed to worry about. Six of my sisters had died in this house. My mother. My father. Twenty generations of Thaumases before me. Who knew how many of them roamed the passageways, wanting acknowledgment now that I knew how to see them. How to look.
Thankfully, the hall remained empty.
“Nightgown, tea, and then we’ll do something about those tangles, all right?” Hanna muttered, and I honestly wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself.
“How do you…How are you doing that?” I asked as she manhandled me into my nightdress.
“When you want something badly enough, you make it happen,” she said, fastening up the row of buttons with surprising dexterity. “Besides, what else am I meant to be doing? I didn’t laze about in life and I certainly wasn’t going to start in death.”
“But ghosts shouldn’t…Youshouldn’t be able to do that,” I amended, watching her pour a cup of tea. When I took it from her, I made sure our fingers brushed. I could feel them again, whole and tangible.
She paused, leveling her dark eyes upon me. “Miss Verity, only hours ago, you didn’t know spirits existed. Perhaps it wouldbe wise not to presume you understand anything more than that.” Hanna squeezed my shoulder, drawing me to the chaise. “I overheard everyone in the kitchen speculating about the squabble between you and Camille…before all this. Do you want to talk about it?”
I set my teacup down.
My fight with Camille, only an hour before, felt like an eternity ago. So much had happened since then. So much had changed.
Only…
Had it really?
Looking Hanna over, I knew deep in my bones that Camille was right. I’d always been able to see ghosts; I’d just not known how to properly perceive them.
Well…now you’ll know to look.
