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Cymbeline
That afternoon after Flynn was shot, we all wanted to visit him at the hospital, but Mama told us he was too weak for visitors. She suggested I take all my sisters out to check on Shannon instead. Lizzie packed us up a wooden fruit box of food to take, and we headed out to their house.
The skies were clear, but the temperatures had dropped into the teens, making the roads icy. I took it slow and made sure to stay in the tracks made by others. Soon, we arrived. Wrung out from the tension in my body and hands during the drive, I took a second to gather myself before following my sisters to the front door.
Their maid, Gilda, opened the door. Greeting us with a smile, she beckoned us inside the house. We were greeted by the scent of cinnamon and apple.
“It smells good in here,” Delphia said.
“I’m making an apple pie for the missus,” Gilda said in her Irish lilt. “It’s Mrs. Barnes’s favorite. I hoped it would cheer her.”
It would take more than apple pie, I thought.
“Mama sent some food over.” Fiona set the heavy box on a the hallway table.
“How kind of her.” Gilda lowered her voice. “Perhaps it’ll tempt the missus to eat a little something. She won’t eat anything I put in front of her.”
“If anything can tempt her, it’s Lizzie’s chicken stew,” I said. “She needs to eat for the baby.” I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the rack by the door, as did my sisters.
Gilda, who couldn’t have been much older than Addie, nodded and lowered her voice. “I’m worried sick over her. She won’t rest or let me take the wee one.” Her freckles and red hair in contrast to her fair skin seemed to reflect the cinnamon and apples in the pie. “Would you talk to her, Miss Cymbeline? She’ll listen to you.”
I doubted that but nodded in agreement. “Thank you for your help, Gilda. There are some fresh scones in the box. Should we serve those with some tea?”
“I’ll take care of it right away,” Gilda said.
“Girls, why don’t you help Gilda while Fi and I talk to Shannon?” I asked.
Addie and Delphia agreed, seeming relieved at the idea. The thought of Shannon being sad or upset had obviously frightened them.
“The baby’s napping. Mrs. Barnes is in the sitting room,” Gilda said.
“We can find the way,” I said.
The little girls went down the hallway with Gilda. I looked at Fiona, who was fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. “Fi?”
She looked up at me and whispered, “I’m nervous. What do we say to her?”
“We’ll be like Mama,” I said, “and simply ask her if she needs anything.”
Fiona reached out to me with fingers so cold I could feel them under the fabric of her gloves. “I’m mad at him. I’ve never been angry at any of you, really. Irritated, maybe, but never angry. I am now. So much so I can’t see straight.”
“I know, Fi. But right now, anger has no place. No good will come from it. We’re to be good sisters to Shannon. That’s what’s required of us right now. We’re not to judge.”
She stared at me, obviously dumbfounded.
I laughed softly. “I sound like you. What’s become of me?”
“Love has made you a stranger to me,” Fiona said, teasing, before hugging me tightly. “I love you so.”
“I love you.” Tears stung my eyes. “We can do this. Have courage.” I took her arm, and we walked toward the sitting room. We found Shannon by the window in a rocking chair. She had one hand draped over her stomach. The other grasped a handkerchief while dangling over the side of the chair. Although dressed, her hair wasn’t combed, and as she turned to greet us, it was obvious by the dark smudges under her puffy eyes that she’d not slept.
“Hello. I didn’t hear you come in.” Shannon moved as if to stand, but I stopped her.
“No need to get up. We’ve come to see if there’s anything you need.”
“Please, have a seat,” she said.
“Mama and Lizzie sent over several meals,” Fiona said. “Including some fresh scones.”
“That was kind of them. Thank them for me.”
“Gilda said she’d bring out tea with the scones,” I said. “You should eat.”
She nodded, vaguely. “Have you been to see Flynn?”
Fiona shook her head. “No, Mama thought we shouldn’t all be there at once. The Barnes family can be overwhelming. As you may know.” She smiled.
“The Barnes family has been nothing but good to me,” Shannon said. “I love you all very much.”
Why had she said it as if she were saying goodbye to us? I darted a glance at Fiona. From the stupefied look on her face, she must have thought the same.
“Have you ever wished you could go away? Start a new life?” Shannon turned back to the window. The frost on the glass had made a pattern like delicate lace.
“Everyone thinks that way sometimes,” Fiona said.
“Sure,” I said. Did they? Shannon had seemed happy and content with her life. She and Flynn had been so in love.
“What he’s done—I don’t know if I can forgive him.” Shannon pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and dabbed under her eyes. “When my father died, I thought I’d never cry as much again. I was wrong.”
I swallowed, unsure what to do or say. Her talk of starting a new life had made my limbs heavy with dread and worry.
