Julian stood in the doorway, the hazy light of late afternoon shining through around his frame. Frances barely looked up from the table, where she was setting it for supper.
Jem sat in his chair while Rebecca chewed on her blanket on the floor. Winnie scurried around in her room, her footsteps scuttling about on the upstairs floors.
"You don't have to set a place for me," Julian said, just as Frances placed a cup at his regular seat. Her hand froze midair.
Julian shuffled his feet. "I'm not here for supper. I have an order due in the morning. I need to finish it as soon as possible."
Frances smiled grimly and snatched back the cup. She kept her eyes on his boots.
"I just came in for a cup of water," he said slowly, an explanation.
"That's fine." Frances piled the extra utensils on Julian's plate and returned everything to the cupboard. She kept the cup and filled it with water from the sink. As she handed it to Julian, their fingers grazed and she shot back. The water sloshed out of the cup and dripped down Julian's fingers.
Julian frowned and watched as she backed away.
"I'm sorry," was all she could muster.
"Papa!" Winnie flew into the room and crashed into her father. Julian chuckled and pretended to stumble back from the sheer weight of the little seven-year-old.
Winnie pulled away and glanced between Frances and Julian. "Are you having supper?" she asked her father.
Julian turned to Frances. She leaned on the back of a chair and tried to focus entirely on Jem, who knelt on the chair, his little arms crossed over the table and his upper teeth working furiously on his lower lip. His big brown eyes watched the scene, but there was little understanding behind them.
Julian looked down at his daughter. "Not tonight, Winnie. I have a lot of work in the shop."
Winnie pulled away, but nodded. "Okay." She slid into her seat at the table and copied Jem's countenance.
Julian sighed and then was gone, the screen door bouncing back into the doorframe.
Frances felt like she could finally breathe. Ever since that night—it had been four days—being in the same room as Julian was torture. Every time she looked at him, she could still feel his lips pressed against hers, his hair brushing against her forehead, the strong smell of trees...she couldn't place it anymore, though. Pine? Oak? Both aromas made her head hurt and her eyes burn with shame. She could barely spend any time outside the house; she needed the sharp sent of soap and the metallic odor of Helena's bloody spittle to keep her mind focused.
"Why doesn't Papa eat with us?" Winnie asked.
"He has work to do, Winnie." Frances said in what she hoped to be a reassuring voice.
"That's not why..."
Frances paced a bowl of food in front of the little girl. "He—" she couldn't go on. There wasn't a single thing she could say that would lift Winnie's spirits, truth or lie.
"I made a pie for desert," she announced, hoping to draw a smile onto the little girl's face.
Winnie's lips curled, but only out of politeness. "I think you're upset with him and he's upset with you."
Frances didn't know what to say. She didn't want to lie, but saying the truth wouldn't help anybody. Instead, she picked up Rebecca and placed her in her high-sitting chair.
Winnie sighed loudly, her eyes trailing Frances as if expecting a reaction. "I just miss being a family."
"Please don't say that, Winnie. Your mother is still around."
"She doesn't make us a family. She and Papa were always fighting. Then you came and we were a family again. Now you and Papa are fighting. And we're not a family again."
Frances took a seat at the table. She reached out her hands to Jem and Winnie and smiled encouragingly. Jem took her hand immediately.
Frances turned to Winnie who eyed the extended hand with apprehension.
"Winnie... please."
She obliged.
***
"Frances?" Winnie sat up in bed.
Frances turned back in the doorway. "Yes?"
Winnie paused. She sighed. "I wish we were still touching the moon."
Frances placed a shaky hand on the doorknob.
"Oh... Winnie."
Winnie laid back down, her eyes locked on the ceiling where the candlelight drew golden patterns. "I wish...I wish—"
Frances stepped out into the hall and turned back to face the room, the glow of the candle was cold, emphasizing the shadows instead of sending them scurrying.
"Me too..."
Winnie's blue eyes glanced in her direction.
Frances smiled sadly. "...me too."
***
Frances' heart ran cold even before she knew she knew she was awake. She almost didn't recognize Jem's voice. She had never heard him scream before.
And it didn't stop. The frozen lump in Frances' chest trickled into to her gut like a handful of pebbles and she rushed into the hall.
There was Julian, his chest bare and his eyes glazed, a candlestick in his hands.
They paused for a moment, as if connecting with each other's panic before running into the children's bedroom. Jem stood on his bed, looking out of the window. He turned to look at them. His eyes were dry but wide. Spittle drooled down his chin. He didn't even take a breath.
Frances jumped on the bed and scooped the boy into her arms. She pressed him to her chest and looked out the window. The pond glimmered with the reflection of the stars. Frances felt the bed bounce and Julian kneeled beside her, his hands pressed on the glass.
And then they saw it. Something was floating in the water. A log or...
Frances turned to Winnie's bed. The sheets were rumpled near the foot of the bed. It was empty.
And Julian was gone. His bare feet thundering down the stairs.
Jem continued screaming into Frances' shoulder. Rebecca whimpered from her crib.
She pressed the boy into the folds of her nightgown. The warmth of his body burned through the linen.
"Jem..." she whispered and the screaming stopped. She pulled the boy away. His large brown eyes were lined with tears. His bottom lip was puckered as he tried to hold in another scream.
"It's okay, Jem," she said, the sound of her voice light and unsubstantial. "It's just a piece of wood. It's okay."
She lay the boy back down on his bed. "It's just...just a log." The boy nodded but then looked up at his sister's empty bed.
"Winnie's just gone for a glass of—water." Frances' voice caught in her throat. "It's okay."
She pulled the blankets up around Jem's shoulders and closed the curtains. "Go back to sleep, Jem."
She stepped back into the hall and suddenly, her heartbeat drummed in her chest. Quick. Heavy. Like a man trying to tap dance in boots on wooden floors.
Her entire body started shaking to the rhythm and her feet began moving on their own. Down the steps, out the front door, around the porch, to the grass. The only thing she could feel was the bottom of her feet as they moved from warm wood to soft rug to cold wood and finally to prickly grass. Nothing else seemed to work. She couldn't even swallow, her throat tight and stinging.
That's when she heard it. Heavy breathing...a wet cough.
She walked towards the edge of the pond where a kneeling shadow rocked back and forth. She stopped behind his shoulder.
He shivered, soaked through, the moonlight glistening off his back and hair. His arms wrapped around a little form, clenched tight to his chest.
Frances dropped to her knees beside him. His eyes were clenched shut and he wheezed through his clamped jaw.
Frances reached over and pulled Winnie's hair from her face. Her face glowed under the moon, her round soft cheeks pale...so transparent blue veins traced their way towards her eyes. Her lips, purple here eyelashes glistening with crystal.
"I didn't—" Julian choked back a dry sob. "I didn't even hear her scream."
Scream...Frances bit one back. But it pressed against her chest again.
"I didn't even...even have a chance to stop this."
Frances leaned her forehead into his neck, her ear against his ear. "No one did."
"She was all alone."
Tears pooled in her eyes and dropped one by one onto Winnie's nightgown. She gasped for a breath. "Only on the outside."
He pulled away and met her eyes. She could barely see him through the haze. But then he nodded slowly and pulled her close.
Winnie's lifeless fingers brushed against her wrist.
Frances buried her face into Julian's chest, praying that she'd feel warm again.