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“Just waiting for you.”
Eliza had ducked down so she could see under the chair, but from there, all she’d been able to see was their knees down. Mr. Shaw had stumbled around the kitchen, and the sound of a spoon scraping across the bottom of the pie pan said he was eating what she’d brought. When a big piece spilled onto the floor right beside where she’d carved her name, she knew she’d messed up. Mr. Shaw paused and glared at the wood shavings that she’d left behind on the floor.
“I’m going to go milk the cows,” Garret had rushed out. “I’ll be back in a little while with fresh milk for you.”
“Did you carve into my cabinets?” Mr. Shaw asked, swaying as he squatted there.
Garret didn’t answer. He just stood there in front of the chair, quiet.
“Answer me, boy!” Mr. Shaw roared.
Eliza had jumped so hard at the volume, and clamped her hand over her mouth as her eyes had blurred with tears of fear.
“Yes sir,” Garret lied.
And Mr. Shaw launched at him faster than she’d seen any man move.
The raw violence with which he beat Garret shocked her. She wanted to close her eyes or look away, but she was frozen there, witnessing the horror. She could still hear the echo of the faint grunts of pain from Garret. He was already hurt, and now he was being hurt again.
She had to stop it. She had to stop it! Eliza had flinched to stand up and tackle that evil man, but Garret had looked over at her at that exact moment and pressed his finger to his lips.
Be quiet. Be still.
The tears loosed after that. She was able to squeeze her eyes closed, but she’d been able to hear it. Mr. Shaw didn’t quit hurting Garret until he was tired. He staggered upward and stumbled out the front door, slamming it so hard that the cabin shook with the force.
She’d eased her eyes open, terrified she would find Garret dead and staring at her like his momma had done. He was staring at her, but he was breathing. “It’s okay,” he said in a hoarse voice, and she hated Mr. Shaw. Hated him. Wanted to kill him. He should’ve died, not Mrs. Shaw, and not that sweet baby girl that they buried with her.
She pushed herself up and ran to his crumpled body, fell to her knees beside him and covered his body with her own, terrified that monster would come back in there to finish the job.
“Go home, Elizabeth,” Garret had whispered.
“I can’t leave you.”
“Please. For me. Leave, and I’ll come see you when I can. I don’t want you to see me like this. It ain’t good for you. Please.”
That had been the last time she’d seen Garret Shaw. Why she hadn’t remembered until now, she couldn’t fathom. Maybe it was just too painful a memory for a mind so young and frail to keep.
She’d done what Garret had asked, and she’d gone home. Her mother had grown scared of life in the wilderness after the trauma of Garret’s mother dying. Two days in a small room as she watched her best friend wither and suffer had done something irreparable to her. The day after she’d carved her name, her mother had packed a bag and hid it behind the seat of the wagon, unbeknownst to Eliza, and told Roy that she and Eliza were going into town to buy fabric. In town, Mother had dragged her screaming onto the train and never looked back. And though Eliza often had, with letters and longing, Garret had never known what became of her. Not unless Roy told him, but that man had never been much for talking about feelings.
Garret’s fears about loving her were understandable. His fears that she would up and leave just like her mother had done…were understandable. He’d survived hell, and she wasn’t dumb enough to think the violence had suddenly stopped when she’d left and began a new life. Garret had been stuck until the day he’d left for schooling in Georgetown.
She didn’t like being the one to pay for others’ mistakes, for her mother’s mistakes…for her fears…but Eliza understood.
She came out of the memory, and was surrounded by the house as it was now. The wood shavings under her carving had long since been cleaned, and the house looked different with all of the new furniture. She wasn’t the scared little girl, and Garret sure as hell wasn’t that scared little boy anymore. She couldn’t imagine anyone hurting him now. He would slaughter them with whatever monster he held in his middle.
She was in the present again, but oh, she still felt the ache of that memory.
The door swung open, and she tensed as it banked against the wall.
“Shhhit,” Garret gritted out as he gently closed it. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he told her. A dark frown took his face. “Why are you on the floor? What’s happened?” He blurred to her and was kneeling before her like a flash of lightning, worry in his glowing eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“I just…” She wheezed an inhale, feeling overwhelmed. “I just…” She didn’t have the words.
He scanned the room and then her face, then looked at where she was pointing with her trembling finger. The carving was right there.
“I remembered that day,” she squeaked out thickly.
Every muscle on his face relaxed, and he stared at her name there with a faraway look in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed low with his harsh swallow. “I don’t have the same memories I did before…you know.”
