Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
At the thought of Rafa, my father’s words come echoing back.
You’ll want her to hear so she doesn’t go running to tell her husband the truth—the whole truth—because I think he’ll murder you with his bare hands if he hears what you did to his precious wife.
The whole truth.
What is he talking about?
That breeds a certain hostility. A jealousy, maybe. Even if one is unaware of it.
Miss Millie’s wrong. Rafa has already betrayed Stefan. Knowingly.
But was it remorse that after my father admitted to my mother’s murder, he wanted to get me out of there? Was it guilt at his betrayal? Because Miss Millie’s also right about us being human. And nothing is ever black or white. Too much gray to cloud our thoughts, our actions. It’s intention that counts.
No, that’s a cop out.
Intention and action, the latter at least to some extent. Even if Rafa felt guilt at betraying Stefan, he still betrayed him when he took me to my father. When he lied to him about it.
I’m glad I talked to Melanie when I was at Clear Meadows. I told her I’d try to move Gabe and that I wanted her to go with him. I remember how she looked at Rafa when I told her. Rafa who hovered at the edge of the room, a guard. A soldier. A jailor.
I know if I’d wanted to walk out of there, he wouldn’t have let me go. And I think Melanie understood too. I mean, she knows who my father is. She’s smart enough to know that what happened to Gabe wasn’t an accident. And she promised she’d take care of him.
When we get back to the house, I help Miss Millie unpack the groceries before going upstairs to my room.
Something seems strange as I walk down the hallway, but I can’t put my finger on it. A sense of dread fills me, though, and has me slowing my steps. By the time I reach my door and put my hand on the doorknob, it’s sweaty and I realize what’s different.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
I open the door slowly and look at the gilded cage of the lovebirds. It’s quieter yet in this room. Quieter than in the hallway even with the sound of the sea below.
Because the birds aren’t singing.
I see them before I even enter the room. See their pretty colors, the bright green and yellow, such happy colors.
With heavy steps I reach the cage and my hand comes to my mouth. The birds are lying on their backs. Lying like they just fell right off their small perch into a scattering of bird food littering the floor of the cage. Side by side, lovers in life. Lovers in death.
I kneel down and open the cage door to reach inside and lift Marguerite out. She’s so soft and light in my palm. I pet her little head, her still chest, and feel the trickle of a tear.
“Gabriela?” Stefan says from behind me. “What are you doing?”
I turn. I didn’t even hear him come.
He looks at me, at the bird in my hand, at her lover lying in the cage. He walks slowly inside, forehead creasing.
“They’re dead,” I say.
He shifts his gaze to mine as he stands over us. “Dead?” He takes a few moments to lean down and look around. “Maybe they were old,” he says. “But…”
Maybe they were. But for them to die together? Like this? That’s not natural.
“I’ll get you two new birds,” he says to me.
I shake my head, stand. I put Marguerite back inside the cage. “I don’t want new birds.”
I turn away from him and from my closet, I take a pair of shoes out of its box and return with the box to the room. I arrange the tissue paper inside, making a small nest for them, then reach into the cage to take each bird out, Marguerite and Mephistopheles. Maybe I doomed them with those names.
Placing them side by side in the box, I take one last look and place the tissue paper over them before putting on the lid.
“I’ll bury them,” I say to Stefan.
“We’ll do it together.”
I shake my head. “Can you get the cage out of here?”
“Gabriela, you don’t have to do it alone—”
“I want to be alone!” I force in a breath to calm myself. “Please just get the cage out of my room.”
One eye narrows but he nods, his gaze on me strange, worried maybe? But something else, too.
Maybe he’s just looking at the crazy woman I’ve become.
“Thank you,” I say and walk out of the room and he doesn’t follow me as I make my way down to the cove where I dig a hole with my hands, my eyes somehow dry. I put the box inside and cover the grave. I even say a little prayer over them. Stupid, I know. They’re just birds. But they were my birds. Even they couldn’t escape the danger that follows me. The death.