Page 122 of The Dravenhearst Brides
The lullaby swelled in her ears. Margot dropped to her knees, pressed her fingers to the earth.
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby…
When she woke the next morning, there was dirt on her feet and dried mud under her nails.
“The legislators repealed Prohibition in the state of Kentucky yesterday,” Merrick told her, hovering in the doorway. He didn’t like to come into the room. He seemed scared to breathe the same tainted air as her. “Onlythree more states are needed to make the change nationwide, and votes are scheduled next week.”
“What does that mean for you? For us?” Her toes itched under the sheets; the dried mud was cracking. She hadn’t washed it off. Beau sniffed at the bedding, following the trail of evidence.
Merrick waited several long moments before answering. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “It means we’re free.”
Free.
Were they though? Margot certainly didn’t feel like it. Merrick didn’t look like it.
She picked at the dirt under her fingernails, ruminating.
He would never leave this place, not now when he could make bourbon again. It was the only thing Merrick truly loved. The distillery.
He’d never told her he loved her. Had never said the words.
Margot had never been more aware of that than she was in this moment, when she realized he was choosing the distillery over her.
He always had.
He always would.
When the knock came in the middle of the day, it was disorienting. Merrick only visited morning and evening. She only had to perform twice a day. There were no midday matinees. Those were the rules.
“Yoohoo!” Thudding echoed again at the door. “Knock, knock.”
Beau rustled at her side, a low whine escaping his throat. The dog had taken to her bed with her over the last several days. His warmth was comforting, his growls even more so, keeping Babette and Eleanor away from her dreams.
One final knock. “Margot, sugar?”
She was stunned, recognizing the throaty voice.
But it couldn’t be.
It couldn’t possibly be…Evangeline?
The door swung open, and a pair of wide batty eyes peeked into the room. “May I come in?”
Margot nodded, too surprised to speak. Evangeline never came into the house. Not for almost thirty years, she’d said.
She clucked her tongue like a mother hen. “Xander said you weren’t getting out of bed, but I hoped…I didn’t want to believe him.” She stopped beside the mattress, a small porcelain bowl in her hands. She placed it on Margot’s bedside table, then looked around the room, peering into every corner. “Are you alone?”
Margot blinked twice. “Merrick only comes in the morning and evening.”
Evangeline shook her head. “Yes, but are youalone? Or…?”
Ah. Margot understood. “No. They aren’t here.” She didn’t want to say their names in case it summoned them. The ghosts.
Beau gave a low growl.
“Right, very good.” Moving swiftly, Evangeline lit a taper and tilted the flame into the porcelain bowl. Its contents sparked, then caught aflame.
