“Howard,” she called as she moved inside.
“Kitchen,” my dad called back.
He turned as we made our way towards the space. “Now what’s with all the tears?” He crouched to make it to my level.
“I-I hurt my arm.”
“Let me see.”
I held out my arm for his inspection. His finger moved lightly over a scrape, but when his hand wrapped around the limb to feel for injury, I howled in pain.
Mom moved in, sweeping a hand over my head. “I think I need to take her to the emergency room.”
Dad stood instantly, his eyes flashing. “We don’t need any doctors. That’s why you have your medical training.”
“Midwife training and basic first-aid. I don’t have an x-ray machine or know how to set a broken bone.”
“No doctors. We’ve been over this, Carly. Treat her here. You have your tinctures. Wrap it and put it in a sling.”
“Howard,” she said softly. “Let me take—”
“I said, no! Do you want her to be poisoned by their drugs? Maybe they’ll decide to take her away from us altogether. Is that what you want?!” Each word built on the last until he was screaming.
Mom pulled me against her as Addie backed away. “Of course, not. I’ll treat her here.”
He eyed her as if my mother had suddenly become the enemy. “Good.”
“Come on, Evie. Let’s get you patched up.”
“Ev.”
My mother’s voice melded with Hayes’. I blinked a few times as I came back to myself. “Sorry, what?”
He moved closer. “Are you okay?”
I nodded quickly. “Fine. I just need some water.”
I hurried away from Hayes’ prying eyes, ones that asked too many questions. I moved towards the little cabin, the spot that had always made for a good hiding place. One that didn’t hold nearly as many memories as the main house.
Jogging up the steps, I pulled open the screen door. It slammed with a bang behind me. I moved to the small kitchen and pulled out a glass. As I went for the pitcher of water in the fridge, my wrist twinged. It, along with so many other injuries, had never healed exactly right.
I had to use my other hand to balance the carafe. It wasn’t even that heavy, but the weight was enough that my arm trembled. Tears blurred my vision as I poured, then set the pitcher down with a thud. The tears came faster. I rubbed at my wrist and forearm as if I could erase it all—every single memory carved into my bones. But I couldn’t. And maybe coming back here wouldn’t heal them, after all. Perhaps it would only reopen old wounds.
18
Hayes
I stood frozen to the spot; my feet glued to the threshold. My back to the world outside, my family; my front facing the woman who pulled at me more and more. I couldn’t have moved if a herd of wild mustangs was headed in my direction.
She was weeping. I’d ne
ver heard a more beautiful sob—or a quieter one. Yet it tore at my insides just the same. Her body shook as she cradled her arm to her chest.
There was so much grief there. Bone-deep sorrow. And pain. It was the pain that unglued my feet. I moved before I could even think about the wisdom of it, letting the door slap closed behind me.
Everly jolted at the sound. She made a valiant effort to pull it together, straightening and dropping her hold on her wrist. She wiped at her face. But whatever she battled in the tiny kitchen was too much to hold back.
By the time I reached her, she was shaking again, tears flowing down her cheeks. Instead of saying a single word or going for my mom or Hadley like I should have, I wrapped Everly in my arms.