Page 26 of The Scent of Snow
And just when the weight of it all threatened to crush him, a glimmer caught his eye.
Pedro shook his head. A soft, ethereal light flickered amidst the dense trees, dancing and weaving in the distance. The hair on the sides of his neck lifted. The light beckoned him. His instinct took command of his legs, propelling him after it. He didn’t fight it.
He trod cautiously, always alert. The light’s luminescence cast a gentle warmth, easing the chill that had settled on his skin and into his bones.
Closer to the precipice, the light vanished. It was then that he listened. A pitiful whine.
Pedro crouched at the edge of the scarp. Even though the clearing afforded more waning light than the forest, he could hardly see. At least ten feet below, Antonio lay on his stomach, holding onto a rock outcrop. But where was the girl? The wail again. Pedro peered below. Antonio’s right arm stretched down, clasping onto something.
The scarps loomed, unforgiving and steep, as the children teetered on the brink. The air sliced through his lungs as he exhaled a steely breath, locking his gaze on the children.
“Stay still!”
Pedro sprang into action, and judging the rock sound, he vaulted. He landed by the boy’s side. Antonio glanced at him, panic and relief warring in his youthful features.
The girl dangled from Antonio’s arm, her hair flailing her pallid cheeks.
Before Pedro could act, the boy’s hand gave way.
Chapter 9
“LadyDaun,whatshouldwe do with the Christmas feast?” The housekeeper intercepted Anne.
“What? I… I can’t think about it now, Leonor. Please excuse me.”
Anne pushed forward. When she arrived at the drawing room, she halted. Night had fallen with all its shadows. The Christmas tree was faded, as if rain had swept inside and snuffed all the pretty candles. Theluminarias, too, stood dark and lonely, as if they missed the children. Julia held the rosary beads in her hands, her face scrunched up in concentration. Isabel stared into the fire, her hand cradling her tummy as if intent on protecting her unborn baby from a similar fate.
Anne had invited them here for the perfect holiday. She had taken Julia and her children from Vesuvio and brought them here for what? To show Pedro how children were wonderful? Christmas was ruined, and it was all her fault. Her chest felt burdened by a thousand winters. Could they ever recover from this? If only Pedro were here to tell her everything would be fine.
Anne dropped on the chaise, her back hunched like a rag doll.
The large double doors opened, bringing in dry leaves and a frigid blast of wind. The women stood. Anne’s heart sped, hoping against hope that they were all well. Henrique and Griffin entered, their faces reddened by the cold.
Julia clutched the beads to her chest, her expression a mix of hope and dread.
Griffin shook his head.
Julia cried out, and her legs gave way underneath her. In two strides, Griffin was by her side and caught her in his arms. Julia, resolute and strong Julia, crumbled, her formidable petite frame hunching over.
Anne had never seen her cry, not like this.
Henrique went to Isabel and embraced her, his hand rubbing her back. “We searched until the sunset, but there were no traces of them.”
Her sister-in-law buried her face in Griffin’s neck. “Tony thinks he is all grown up now, but he fears the dark. And Clara… Oh, my sweet baby, she never even slept alone.”
The wind howled outside. The children must be so cold and frightened. Her Pedro, too, hated darkness. Anne wrung her hands, her breathing so shallow she feared she was about to faint.
The footman closed the door. Still, a breeze swept into the sealed room. The luminaria, cold until that moment, breathed into life, its tiny flame casting shadows over the wallpaper.
A silence descended over the drawing room, the family staring at that tiny flame. The light flickered once, twice, and then stilled. As Anne watched her lantern glow, a sense of tranquility unfurled in her chest, and she was able to control her breathing.
Griffin hugged Julia. “We came for torches. We will go back to the search.”
“No,” Anne said, her voice calm and resolute.
Everyone stared at her.
She held her brother’s arm. “The property is closed. If you didn’t find the children, they went to the scarps.”
