Page 4 of One Last Lie

CHAPTER TWO

The children, not surprisingly, don’t warm up to me nearly as fast as their mother does. They sit in stony silence as we eat our breakfast. I allow them their silence for the moment as I look them over and try to decide how best to approach each of them.

Elijah is doing the best at not showing his grief, not surprising since he’s the oldest. The risk with him is that he’ll take a parental burden on himself and neglect to experience his own sadness. That is very dangerous for a child, especially for a young man. I will need to give him a chance to be alone so he can feel what he thinks he can’t feel right now.

Isabella still regards me with distrust, but I can see the heartbreak behind it. Though seemingly absurd that a fifty-year-old governess could be seen this way, to her I represent a replacement for her father foisted upon her by her mother. I will need to be very gentle and patient with her.

Samuel will be the easiest. He is too young to feel a need to be independent and not yet complex enough to see me as a replacement for his father. He will just need to be showered with affection and be told that it’s okay to cry.

I break the silence with Elijah. As the oldest, the younger ones will follow his example even if they don’t do so consciously. If he shows that it’s okay to talk to me, that I’m nothing to be afraid of, it will be easier for me to break the ice with them.

“Elijah, I hear you’re quite the scholar. You’re hoping to be a linguist one day, is that correct?”

He looks at me strangely and answers somewhat warily, “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m curious, what do you find fascinating about linguistics?”

Isabella chuckles. “You’re seriously going to talk to us about school?”

“Yes. I’d like to know what interests each of you. I would love to see some of your photography later as well.”

She rolls her eyes and says nothing else. I turn back to Elijah and prompt him. “Elijah?”

“Um, I like how words come together to create meaning,” Elijah says. “It’s really fascinating how we evolved to make certain sounds to mean certain things, and then you can put those sounds together so they mean other things, then you can create structures that make that meaning complex and varied, and then you can somehow communicate all of this to everyone.”

“It really is fascinating,” I agree. “That ability to communicate in such a rich and varied manner is what makes us different from the rest of the animals.”

“Exactly.” He’s growing excited now. “And the fact that so many cultures developed so many different language patterns across the entire world and that they communicate the same concepts but do it with different structures and syntax. It’s just incredible. It’s universal, but it’s not universal at the same time. It’s really…”

His voice trails off, and his face changes suddenly. His eyes fall, and his shoulders slump.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “I just… Dad always used to do crossword puzzles with me. He would do the puzzle, and each word, he would ask me the etymology. Or he would try to guess, and I would tell him if he was right. It’s silly, I know, but it was…” I wait patiently, and he finally finished with. “Our thing, I guess.”

“He must have been very proud of you,” I say gently.

Elijah looks away and doesn’t say anything. After a moment, he pushes his plate away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

He stands abruptly and leaves. As soon as he’s out of the dining room, Isabella bolts to her feet. “I’m done too. I’m going to go to the pond and feed the ducks. Samuel, do you want to come with me?”

Samuel nods and follows his sister, leaving me alone to reflect on my failed attempt to connect with them.

I’m moving too fast. I need to give them time to get used to me before I worry about building relationships with them. They’ve endured a catastrophic change. It’s only natural they would be wary about accepting more change.

I finish my breakfast, then clear the plates and head to the pond. It’s quite a walk, perhaps a quarter mile away. I’m told the estate owns four thousand acres, though only about a tenth that much is developed.

Today is sunny, and up close, the bare trees are just that: trees. There’s nothing skeletal or sinister about them. I smile and realize how much of my fear was simply anxiety. There’s nothing here to be afraid of. In a few weeks, the snow will come, and the barrenness of the grounds will transform into a bright wonderland. The dark, brooding house will wear a blanket of soft white, and I will have had time to become accustomed to my new surroundings.

I’m not as reassured as I want to believe I am, but I push that unease aside and focus on the children. I have made an inroad with Elijah. I must do the same with the other two.

I reach the pond and see Isabella smiling at Samuel, who is chasing ducks off of the shore into the water. I wonder why they’re still here? Even without snow, I would expect all the waterfowl to have flown south.

Then I see a small brood of ducklings swimming in an orderly row behind their mother. It’s late in the year for ducklings, but life has a way of happening whether we plan for it or not.

The same, unfortunately, can be said of death.

Isabella sees me, and her smile vanishes. Just before cold aloofness fills her expression, I see a flash of guilt. She doesn’t feel she should be allowed to enjoy anything with her father gone.

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