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hrjWhen she saw the face outside her bedroom window, Jeanne cried out in terror--not at the presence of a ghost, but at what that vision meant. But Antuniet was no ghost, only a terrified fugitive. Her tale could wait for morning, Jeanne concluded, settling her unexpected guest into the safety of a warm bed. Whatever pursued Antuniet invaded her sleep as well, and Jeanne woke to screaming.
***
“Shh, what did you dream? Telling it aloud will break it.”
Antuniet twisted in her arms. “I saw my mother…accusing me. I was locked in the dark; I couldn’t get away. And she was there beside me, all stiff and cold. And then her hand raised and pointed at me.” There was a deep shuddering breath. “She—I found her, you know, after she…when it was all over. She made certain I was the one who would find her. She didn’t think the servants should have to—”
“Shh, that’s all past. She isn’t here now.” How many ghosts were haunting her? How long had she kept all this without a soul to share the horror? “What could she accuse you of? You’ve done nothing.”
“But that’s it: I’ve done nothing.” Antuniet’s voice came muddled through the edge of sleep. Likely she’d remember none of this in the morning. “I’ve done nothing of what I promised her. I promised—I swore over her body—that I’d wipe out what Estefen had done. I’d bring honor back to the family. And I’ve done nothing—worse than nothing.” Her voice caught in a sob.
Jeanne held her even more tightly. She remembered Iosifin Chazillen well. Remembered the look on her face when she gave the final damning evidence at her son’s trial. Remembered the shock, but no surprise, at the news of her suicide. What must it have been like to have a mother who valued honor over her children’s lives? Over her own life? To the rest of the world it had seemed tragically noble, but such a ghost to have haunting you! “You’ve done everything you can, Toneke. You’ve survived. And your work will succeed; I know it.”
She started to loosen her hold but Antuniet cried out, “Don’t leave me alone! Don’t leave me in the dark!”
“Hush, I won’t leave you,” Jeanne said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay and keep watch over you.”
She laid Antuniet down again and tucked the covers closely around her. In the soft glow of the lamplight her face gradually relaxed into sleep once more. The fear faded away and only the weariness remained, but in that face Jeanne could still see the bones of the sharp wit and sardonic humor that had always attracted her, the spark of passion that was only released in the safety of her studies. She leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of Antuniet’s face and froze. When had this happened? When had teasing and idle flirtation deepened into something more? She sat back, searching her memory. If she had foreseen it, she would have guarded her heart more carefully.
***
“Shh, what did you dream? Telling it aloud will break it.”
Antuniet twisted in her arms. “I saw my mother…accusing me. I was locked in the dark; I couldn’t get away. And she was there beside me, all stiff and cold. And then her hand raised and pointed at me.” There was a deep shuddering breath. “She—I found her, you know, after she…when it was all over. She made certain I was the one who would find her. She didn’t think the servants should have to—”
“Shh, that’s all past. She isn’t here now.” How many ghosts were haunting her? How long had she kept all this without a soul to share the horror? “What could she accuse you of? You’ve done nothing.”
“But that’s it: I’ve done nothing.” Antuniet’s voice came muddled through the edge of sleep. Likely she’d remember none of this in the morning. “I’ve done nothing of what I promised her. I promised—I swore over her body—that I’d wipe out what Estefen had done. I’d bring honor back to the family. And I’ve done nothing—worse than nothing.” Her voice caught in a sob.
Jeanne held her even more tightly. She remembered Iosifin Chazillen well. Remembered the look on her face when she gave the final damning evidence at her son’s trial. Remembered the shock, but no surprise, at the news of her suicide. What must it have been like to have a mother who valued honor over her children’s lives? Over her own life? To the rest of the world it had seemed tragically noble, but such a ghost to have haunting you! “You’ve done everything you can, Toneke. You’ve survived. And your work will succeed; I know it.”
She started to loosen her hold but Antuniet cried out, “Don’t leave me alone! Don’t leave me in the dark!”
“Hush, I won’t leave you,” Jeanne said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay and keep watch over you.”
She laid Antuniet down again and tucked the covers closely around her. In the soft glow of the lamplight her face gradually relaxed into sleep once more. The fear faded away and only the weariness remained, but in that face Jeanne could still see the bones of the sharp wit and sardonic humor that had always attracted her, the spark of passion that was only released in the safety of her studies. She leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of Antuniet’s face and froze. When had this happened? When had teasing and idle flirtation deepened into something more? She sat back, searching her memory. If she had foreseen it, she would have guarded her heart more carefully.
