Viktor
None of the Barneses showed up to church Sunday morning. A feeling of dread became a stone in my stomach. Addie must have taken a turn for the worse. That had to be the reason for their absence. Mrs. Barnes made sure they were all in the front pew every Sunday.
After church, I drove toward home but decided at the last second to turn the other way and head out to the Barnes estate. I wouldn’t bother the family, but Jasper could give me an update on Addie’s situation.
Snow had fallen again the night before, but the plow had come through to clear the road. However, the Barnes driveway had not been, so I was careful to stay within the tracks made by whoever had driven to and from earlier in the day.
All seemed well, however, when I parked the car behind the one Cym and Fiona usually drove. I knocked on the front door to the tinkling sound of Fiona’s piano. That was good, surely?
Jasper answered the door. “Mr. Olofsson, how are you?”
“I came by to see how Addie was faring.” I stuck my hands into my overcoat and balled my fists, hoping for the best.
“Come in. Miss Cymbeline and Miss Fiona are in the sitting room.”
I followed Jasper inside and let him take my coat. The melodious notes of Fiona’s playing continued. Was it my imagination, or was it a mournful song?
She stopped when we entered the room. Cym, who was at the desk, looked up and then stood, coming over to greet me. Jasper disappeared to go do whatever butlers did, leaving me alone with the women.
“Viktor, what brings you by?” Cym asked.
“I wanted to inquire about Addie.” I drew her hand to my mouth for a light brush. Please don’t scold me for my rudeness, I thought. “I worried when you weren’t at church.”
“She’s not well.” Upon closer inspection, I could see that Cym’s eyes were puffy. “Yesterday, we were encouraged, but today she’s quite ill.”
Fiona approached, welcoming me with a sad smile. “How kind of you to come by. We’ve been beside ourselves.”
“After she had her dinner of bread and more potato soup, she became ill,” Cym said. “She’s refused to eat at all today.”
“We’re afraid she’s given up.” Fiona’s face contorted as she tried not to cry.
“I’m so very sorry to hear this.” The boulder in my stomach grew heavier. “What can I do? Anything?”
“Mama and Papa are with her now. Theo’s just left,” Cymbeline said.
“Does he know what’s wrong?” What a stupid question. Of course he didn’t, or he would have done something by now. “I’m sorry. That was dumb.”
“It’s all right,” Cym said. “In fact, he has a suspicion. She became sick after eating Lizzie’s bread.”
“Bread?” I blinked, confused. “How could bread make a person sick?”
“I don’t know,” Cym said. “But that’s what we saw. If she’d try to eat something else, we could see if she was all right without bread.”
“She won’t, though,” Fiona said. “It’s like a hunger strike.”
“Poor Addie,” I said.
“None of us had the heart to go to church,” Fiona said. “I couldn’t stand to hear that pontificator Pastor Morris. There hasn’t been a time I’ve missed Pastor Lind more than now.”
“He’d be a comfort to us,” Cym said. “That flaming red ball of a preacher is another matter altogether.”
Our new pastor wasn’t well-liked by those of us who had grown up listening to Pastor Lind’s gentle and encouraging sermons. Pastor Morris was bombastic and verbose, and preached about an angry and vengeful God.
“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Cym asked. “It’s only sandwiches. Lizzie was too upset to cook much.”
“I would, but I promised Mother I’d come by later,” I said. This was a lie, but I didn’t want to stay and be in the way. Their family didn’t need an outsider lurking about.
“I can’t ski this afternoon,” Cym said. “I don’t want to leave Addie.”
“I understand completely,” I said. “I’d figured as such.”
She escorted me to the door and helped me on with my coat. “Shall I walk you out?”
“I’d like that,” I said.
I followed her down the steps and out to my car. The day had darkened. Given the smoky-colored sky, snow would come again before long.
She placed her fingers on the lapels of my jacket. “Viktor, thanks for coming by. And caring about my family.”
“I hope I wasn’t intrusive,” I said. “But my car seemed to drive itself here.”
“You could never be that. Especially after how often you’ve saved us.”
I drew her close and kissed the top of her head. “You have to keep the faith. God is good.”
“Only the good die young, though. Isn’t that what they say?”
“That’s a saying. Not truth,” I said.
She lifted her gaze to me, and I kissed her gently on the mouth. “I won’t expect you tomorrow morning,” I said. “But come if Addie’s better. I’ll be on my knees tonight.”
“Thank you.” She stepped aside so I could get into the car. As I backed up and drove out of the driveway, she remained in the yard watching me. Just before I turned the corner, she lifted her hand in one last wave.