“Has it? Truly? Then you will cede the chair out of deference to my authority.”
Edwin glowers at her. Then he slowly rises … and she takes the chair, shoves it behind the desk, and sits on the front.
“Gather ’round, children,” she says. “Let me tell you a story of sedition. Such a lovely word. Such a noble cause.” She turns to Felicity. “Did your grandfather tell you the nature of his rebellion?”
Felicity nods. “When residents founded the First Settlement, they wished to trade with Rockton. The town refused to allow it—they didn’t want anyone living in the forest. My grandfather arrived during the dispute. He saw the First Settlement’s point and attempted to help them. For that, he was exiled. The First Settlement took him in and made him their leader.”
Émilie’s lips twitch in a humorless smile. “Seems you left out a few details, old man. Or, should I say, a few bodies?”
“What?” I turn to Edwin.
Émilie continues. “Our lawyer friend here did not intervene in the dispute by arguing eloquently in favor of trade. You see, at that time, Rockton had a far more trusting nature. We kept our hunting rifles in a communal chest, for anyone who cared to hunt. Edwin emptied that chest and gave the guns to the settlers, who invaded Rockton, took the residents hostage, and made their demands. When Rockton’s leaders refused, they were both shot. Murdered.”
“What?” I say, wheeling on Edwin. “You killed—”
“Not me,” Edwin says. “You know that, Émilie. You were there. You and your husband. The three of us negotiated a peaceful settlement.”
“Negotiated? You have such a charming way with words.” She looks at us. “Edwin held a rifle to my husband’s head. I had a handgun that Robert bought me after the first death threat over our political views. Edwin didn’t expect that gun, and he sure as hell didn’t expect a woman to pull it on him. He laughed at me. I put a hole through the wall, singeing off a few of his hairs, and he decided perhaps we really should talk after all.”
“I was trying to talk all along, Émilie. No one was listening until I pointed a gun at your husband.” He glances at us. “The deaths were a mistake. My mistake, because I put guns in the hands of idiots. Yet Rockton refused to talk to us, and we grew desperate.”
His gaze shoots Dalton’s way, waiting for sarcasm. Dalton says nothing. He’s trying very hard not to look at me. Dalton knows exactly what’s going through my head. I want to sneer at Edwin, to give him the reaction he expects, but I cannot. Because once upon a time, I took a gun to persuade someone that I was serious, to force him to listen to me. And then, when he didn’t, I pulled the trigger, and I will never stop regretting that. Bringing that gun had been a stupid, immature move from a stupid, immature kid.
A kid who would have only been a few years younger than Edwin and Émilie at the time.
“Émilie?” I say, as evenly as I can. “How close is that to the truth?”
She doesn’t answer.
“If it was not the truth,” Edwin says, “would I still be here? Would they have settled for banishing me? Left me in charge of the First Settlement, where I could plan my next assault on Rockton?”
Émilie says nothing.
“We were not in charge here,” Edwin says. “Émilie, Robert, myself … Back then, we were considered children, errant youths who’d stumbled into trouble at home and now needed the protection of responsible adults. We chafed at that. We were idealists, and we thought we could do better. I attempted to do better by helping the settlers, which was something we all wanted.” A meaningful look at Émilie.
“Yes,” she says. “The three of us wanted that. However, only one of us put guns in the hands of people who didn’t want peace. They wanted Rockton.”
Edwin nods. “I underestimated their capacity for violence and overestimated their intelligence. The result was a tragedy. I do not deny that. No more than I deny the fairness of my sentence.” He looks at us. “Robert argued my case, despite…”
Another look at Émilie.
“You held my husband at gunpoint,” she says, each word coming slow, old fury igniting in her eyes. “I don’t care if you didn’t plan to pull that trigger. All I saw was a friend holding a gun on my husband, threatening to shoot if he didn’t get his way. I will never forget what that felt like. I will never forgive you for that moment.”
“I understand,” Edwin says. “I hope you and Robert had many years together—”
“Don’t.” She spits the word, glaring at him.
“Whatever you think I’m doing—”
“You’re subtly reminding me that Robert did not die, and that we went on to a happy and long life together. You’re suggesting that my reaction was merely a moment of panic. A moment that I have lived a thousand times in nightmare, and if you want to see that as feminine weakness—hysteria or the vapors, perhaps—then you do that, but do not patronize me.”
“All right. Then I apologize sincerely, Émilie, for the pain I caused you.”
Dalton glances at me. We’re both uncomfortable here. So is Phil. Felicity just looks confused. She’s watching her grandfather the way one might watch a loved one displaying characteristics that suggest a mental break … or alien possession. Edwin is apologizing. He is admitting to mistakes. For her, I suspect, this is a first, and it is unsettling.
Does Edwin even remember that Felicity is here? I don’t think so. Not Felicity, not Dalton, not Phil, and not me. Neither does Émilie. We are witness to a private conversation, and the only thing that kept me from slipping out earlier was the understanding that they need to have this talk, and even a subtle departure might disrupt that.
Also, I want to understand what happened here. What happened between them, and what Edwin did. Whether I can trust either of them. What sort of people they really are.