Page 152 of These Summer Storms

Elisabeth’s brow furrowed. “He left me with this mess. He was a part of every decision, you know. Keeping Greta close. Keeping Alice away. He was the architect of many of them.”

It was only right for Elisabeth to defend herself, Emily thought. It was time for her to speak up. She nodded. “That must have been so difficult.”

“You can’t imagine how I regret things.”

There had been a time when Emily, who had always lived out loud, not hiding anything—wouldn’t have been able to imagine how it must feel to have to bear the weight of all those secrets. But she’d carried secrets of her own, now. And in that, she found sympathy. “There’s still time to rectify those regrets, Mom. You could try.”

Elisabeth flinched at the words. At the suggestion that she allow emotion to dilute her cool New England exterior. “Maybe.”

Maybewasn’tNo.

Maybe there would come a time when Elisabeth would do it. Maybe someday, she’d let them all see the things she kept so tightly locked away. Maybe someday, Emily would ask. But the truth was a strange, ephemeral thing, and they would all have to make peace with never knowing all of it. They would spend a lifetime coming to terms with that.

Across the table, the flickering light cast her mother’s face into harsh, unforgiving shadows, and Emily thought about all the questions she would ask her father if he were here. One more minute. Less. One more question.

“That candle saysPeace,” Elisabeth said, and there was a thread of something distant in her words. Something like humor. A glimpse of Lizzie.

Emily nodded. “It’s a work in progress.”

A little noise of agreement was Elisabeth’s concession.

Maybe it didn’t matter what the answers were. Because Emily knew she had been loved. Knew she still was loved. And maybe everything else was a secret that could be washed away by the storms outside.

Still, she couldn’t help herself. “Mom, did you love him?”

Elisabeth looked up at that, drawn out of her thoughts, wherever they had taken her. The storm raged outside, louder than it had been, the wind screamed across the windows.

“I miss him.”

It wasn’t the answer. But maybe it was enough.

She reached out and touched Elisabeth’s hand, the soft skin there like paper. Like sand. Full of footprints.

“Me, too.”

It was too much for Elisabeth. She stood and left without a word, climbing the servants’ stairs, lantern in hand. Emily imagined her washing her face by that lanternlight. Applying serums and creams and climbing into bed, waiting for sleep to take hold and put the whole day behind her. Forever.

Emily didn’t move, instead setting the palms of her hands to the scarred wood of the table and watching the candle’s flame flicker and dance as the storm raged outside.Peace,she thought, again and again, the word coming unraveled in her. Turning into sounds and letters.

Until it lost all meaning and lighting struck, bright and close, chased by a mighty crack, and a crash that shook the house.

Chapter

21

When the giant oakcrashed through the wall of windows in her father’s office, Alice could think only one thing—Jack.

One moment, she’d been lingering in the hallway outside the kitchen with Claudia, not sure of what would happen between Elisabeth and Emily, wanting to stay close in case everything went off the rails. The next, things went off the rails in a completely different way, and she was running through the dark labyrinthine corridors to Franklin’s office, heart in her throat.

She burst through the door, Jack’s name on her lips. He was already turning from where he stood at the corner of her father’s desk, his electric lantern outstretched, surveying the immense damage.

When she threw herself into his arms, he caught her with a soft “Hey.”

“I knew you were in here…” she said, fast and panicked. “I heard the crash and I thought—”

“Hey,” he repeated, his arms wrapped around her, one hand at the back of her head, stroking her hair. “I’m okay.”

“All I could think was—”

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