The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2)

He turned his head to look at me for a moment before returning his gaze to the blanket of snow. “Yes. You and me.”

“Yet I feel as helpless as I ever did. When you came in that day after finding Mother, I knew in my heart that you would never be the little boy you were supposed to be. She robbed you of it. I hated her for that.”

“Do you still hate her?”

“I try not to think of her at all.”

“I have more pity for her than I did before—understanding and empathy. I’m frightened I’m becoming her.” His voice shook as he uttered those last words.

“No, Theo. You’re not like her. I remember her better than you. You’re not mentally ill. You’re haunted by your experiences. Horrible ones at that. It’s not the same thing.” I wanted desperately for him to believe me. As I stood there watching a myriad of emotions cross his face, I didn’t know if he ever would. Or could, for that matter.

“I don’t know what to do, Jo.”

I searched for the right thing to say, feeling as if my next words were the most important I would ever say. Papa had said to me once that our only purpose in life was to discover how we could best serve others with our particular talents. “Theo, of all of us, you’re the smartest. You’ve always been the scholar of the family. Become a doctor. Help people. Purge the demons with service to others.”

“Papa’s been telling that to us all our lives. I think that sentiment is what made Flynn determined to enlist. His brawn, you know. Fighting against the bad with his muscles.”

I smiled, thinking of my physically gifted brother. “He did what he had to do to feel as if he was giving what he could to the world. Now it’s your turn to do the same.”

“I have a confession to make.”

“What is it?”

“There’s another reason I’ve been angry with Flynn.”

I waited.

“Louisa’s in love with him. The girl I want, wants my twin.”

My heart sank. Poor Theo. “How do you know?”

“I found a letter she wrote to him during the war. He never told me about it, knowing how I felt. I’m trying not to feel jealous, but I can’t help it. He got everything I wish I had.”

Phillip

The night of the party, I stood in front of the mirror fiddling with my tie. The twins were already dressed in their formal evening suits and were sprawled on their beds.

“I’m hoping Shannon’s feeling nothing but warm things for me and will dance with me all night,” Flynn said.

A knock on the door drew our attention.

“It’s Cymbeline,” came the voice on the other side of the door. “I need to come in.”

“Enter at your own risk,” Flynn called out to her.

The door opened and Cymbeline appeared. She wore

a light blue dress with shimmery capped sleeves. Her hair was fixed in a sophisticated bun, with shiny tendrils framing her face.

“Can you believe Mama’s making me wear this dress?” Cymbeline put her hands on her hips. “I look like that blue pincushion she has in her basket. And look at my hair. Jo made it all…all…womanly and grown-up.”

“What’s the matter with that?” Flynn asked. “You look pretty.”

Cymbeline stomped her foot. “I don’t want to be a pincushion. Fiona got to wear a normal dress instead of this formal thing.”

“She’s only thirteen,” Theo said. “I thought you’d be happy to wear a grown-up dress.”

“I’m not. All the boys from school are going to laugh at me when they see me this way.”