Her heart sank a little at the words.
How wonderful it would have been indeed.
One solitary candle burned from the center of the table. The light flickered, as if the draw from the fireplace coaxed it back and forth with a cool breath.
He never left on a light. ’Twould be out by morning anyway. A waste of wick and wax.
But Mercy had whispered her unwonted fear of the darkness into his ear, and despite knowing he shouldn’t, he had relented.
Now they watched the flame burn, the three of them, from his bed.
The hanging quilt was gone.
John squeezed between the wall and Simon’s back, while Mercy burrowed herself into his arms, her curls soft and messy against his bare arm.
“Me wish we had Mama.” Her voice struck the quiet cabin with notes of despair.
Simon swallowed. “I wish we had her too.”
“John cried.”
“I did not!” The bed frame creaked when John leaned up. “I didn’t, Mercy,” he said softer, but an ache dulled his voice. “Not once.”
“Me cried,” she whispered. “Baby cried too.” In testament to her words, hot tears slid onto his skin. They burned. Everything burned.
Lord, I cannot bear this.He wanted to take their pain. He wanted to bring Ruth back. He wanted to end Mercy’s tears and squeeze John against him…and somehow chase away the suffocating stench of death in their home.
He wanted to tear down the cabin.
He wanted to chop down the oak tree.
He wanted to burn the inside of the root cellar, destroy every last thing those beasts had touched.
“Sir.” John settled back into the pillows. His forehead touched Simon’s back, and when he spoke, his breath was warm and uneven.
“Can we pray for her?”
“It is too late to pray, John.”
“Why?”
“She is with God.”
Silence. Then, “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I ran away when they came.” His words caught. A muffled sound escaped.
Simon shifted toward him. “Son—”
Lunging upward, John scrambled through bed linens and crawled over legs, then darted for the loft ladder. He disappeared from the candle’s reach.
Simon scooped Mercy up and carried her to the base of the ladder. She must have already fallen asleep, for her body was limp against him, and she conformed to the new position without so much as a sound.
“Son, I want you to listen to me.” He stared up at the black loft and prayed to heaven his voice would remain strong. “What happened was not your fault. You did right to hide your sister.”
Nothing.
