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Cymbeline
Snow had started to fall by the time I headed home late that afternoon. My heart leapt with excitement as it began to stick. If it kept going like this, I’d be on the slopes soon. Finally, I would get to start actually training for the event instead of tossing rocks about with Viktor. Pulling into our garage, a shiver went through me. A feeling of worry overcame me. Something wasn’t right.
I sprinted across the yard and into the house. “Hello? Anyone home?” I called out as I hung my coat in the closet.
“In here,” Mama said.
I found her in the sitting room. She seemed to have shrunk in size from when I left in the morning, and her eyes were red and puffy. “Mama, what’s the matter?”
She tapped under her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. “It’s Addie. She’s not well.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“We don’t know. Viktor found her outside your father’s office, just sitting there, disoriented. He brought her home. Theo’s up with her now.”
“Viktor did?”
“Yes, he seems to be in the business of taking care of all the Barnes sisters.”
Bless Viktor. Always there when we needed him. I put that aside to focus on my sister. “How bad is she? What’s wrong with her?” I thought back to that morning. I’d not taken them to school. But at breakfast, she’d seemed her usual self—pale and quiet.
“Your father and Theo sent me down here. My fussing was making everything worse.”
“But isn’t it just one of her colds? She’ll be fine.” Wouldn’t she?
“She’s not strong. Not since she was about two years old. She’s too thin but never seems to have an appetite. I’ve seen her drag herself out of bed in the morning and then is listless and disinterested in most everything. Even her studies have worsened. Last night, I peeked in on them before I went to bed. She was still awake, lying there in the dark.”
“How strange.” Last evening at dinner, she’d seemed as though she could barely keep her eyes open.
“She said she was tired but couldn’t sleep. I don’t know what to do.”
I patted Mama’s hand and tried to think of something to say, but the boulder on my chest prevented me from thinking of anything helpful. My little Addie. Had we all been avoiding the truth? Was there something truly wrong with her? Would she not make it to adulthood? No, that couldn’t be. She had to get better. We’d gotten the twins back from the war. We couldn’t lose Addie right here at home where we were supposed to be safe.
“I knew better than to send her to school this morning. She’s missed so many days, though,” Mama said. “She looked so weak and tired.”
“Don’t blame yourself.”
“The rest of you have always been so robust. I’ve never had to worry about your health, but Addie’s fragile.”
From the foyer came the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by footsteps. Seconds later, still in her overcoat, Delphia appeared. She stomped across the wood floors to stand before us. “What’s wrong with Addie? Tell me, please. Now.”
“We’re not sure,” I said.
Delphia looked at me and then to Mama. “How can you not be sure? You’re grown-ups.”
“Theo’s with her,” Mama said. “He’s going to help us understand better.”
Delphia’s bottom lip trembled. “One of the girls at school said she’s probably dying. Is that true?”
“No, that’s not true. She’s going to get better.” Mama held out her arms to our little ball of fury and took her in her lap.
Delphia laid her cheek against Mama’s chest. “I hate Celeste. She’s the one who said it. She was telling everyone how she saw Addie fall and how she’s going to be dead before spring.”
I gasped. “She said that?”
Delphia raised her head from Mama’s chest to look at me. “She’s a pig with a lying mouth.”
An image of a pig with an apple stuffed in its mouth came to me. Maybe a little girl named Celeste needed an apple in her mouth to keep her quiet.
Fidgety, I put another log of wood on the fire. Outside, the light continued to fade. I shivered, cold. Last week, every muscle in my body screamed out to me every time I moved. Apparently, I’d grown accustomed to my morning exercise, because today it had lessened to a dull ache. I was strong. If only I could give Addie some of my strength.
Hugging myself, I went to the window. A chiffon-like layer of snow covered the front yard. The tracks from my car were still evident but would soon be covered as well. Fluffy flakes tumbled from the sky. As I’d done since I was a child, I sat in the window seat and followed a single snowflake as it fell onto the ground.
What could I do for Addie? What could any of us do? Cut open our veins and pour our healthy blood into her? Fill her with the robustness of the rest of us? Each of us would if we could. Even if it meant having less for ourselves.
Theo came into the room, carrying his medical bag. “Papa’s with her,” Theo said.
Delphia jumped from Mama’s lap and ran to him. She wrapped her arms around his legs. “Did you make her well?”
“She’s resting,” Theo said. “When she fell, she knocked her head on the railing. She has a bump the size of an egg.”
He came to sit across from Mama. Delphia shuffled over to the window seat. I helped her take off her coat and patted the cushion. She hopped up and snuggled beside me.
“Theo? Do you have any idea of what could be wrong with her?” Mama asked.
“Her main ailment is malnourishment,” Theo said. “She’s so thin her ribs show even through her nightshirt. I noticed tufts of her hair on the pillow too. How long has that been going on?”
Mama flushed and looked down at her hands. “About a month now.”
“She needs nutrients,” Theo said gently.
“I’ve begged her to eat more,” Mama said. “She always says she’s not hungry.”
