Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I glance over my shoulder at Brom. He’s wincing, one hand pushing on the side of his temple.
“What was that?” he asks.
“The wards,” I say. “You must have felt them when you rode in.” I pause, waiting for him to tell me he didn’t remember that either. Unless going through the wards has the opposite effect for him. “Do you remember anything now?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Do you remember class earlier with Professor Crane? Your tour with Sister Margaret?”
“Yes,” he says, frowning.
“He remembers just as I do,” I announce to my mother as I face forward. “How do you explain that?”
“There’s a lot that can’t be explained right now, Kat,” my mother says in a tired voice.
That can’t be explained, I think. Or won’t be?
When we reach our house, Brom continues riding on, telling my mother that he’ll invite his parents over for supper. Brom’s family lives on the next farm over from my house toward town, and I contemplate riding with him just so I can have a chance to be alone with him and ask questions, but he’s already pushing on his way. Maybe he needs some time to be alone himself and try and figure out what’s happening. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him. The desperation in his voice when he asked Crane to fix him…it broke my heart.
We untack the horses and go inside the house, which smells like chicken soup. My mother finds Famke in the kitchen and tells her to make extra for dinner since we’re having company. Famke couldn’t look more surprised to hear of Brom’s return.
“Is it true?” Famke whispers to me while she’s chopping up celery, my mother having gone to take a bath. “Is Brom really back?”
“He’s really back,” I tell her.
She squints at me through a few strands of frayed grey hair that’s fallen across her forehead.
“You don’t look happy, child.”
I put on my best smile. “I am happy. I’m relieved.”
“But?” She presses the knife against the celery but doesn’t cut it.
“But he doesn’t remember anything,” I whisper. “Not why he left, not what’s happened while he’s been gone. He doesn’t even know how he got here. The Sisters said that he’s been home for days but was too ill to see anyone. But I don’t believe that, and Brom doesn’t either. He says the only thing he remembers is waking up today in my class. That’s it.”
Famke searches my eyes for a few moments.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Are they talking about marriage again? Between you and Brom.”
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “As if he hasn’t been gone at all. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Brom like I always have, but…”
“But now you’re with the professor.”
I give her a look. “How do you know that?”
“The walls listen,” Famke says, resuming her chopping. “They listen and watch.”
“Are you the walls?”
She smiles to herself, but it’s a bitter smile. “I have been here a long time, Katrina. I have seen a lot.”
I’ve always liked Famke. Always trusted her. But I knew her loyalty was always to my mother, not to me. Still, I have to ask.
“What have you seen?” I whisper.
Famke’s eyes dart to the empty doorway, then back to me. Her expression turns melancholy. “Your father wanted the very best for you. You know that, don’t you?”
I nod. “I know.”
“But what he wanted for you was not what your mother wanted. He didn’t want you to marry Brom.”
I blink at her, shocked. “What do you mean?”
Of course he did. That’s all they ever talked about. My destiny, how Brom would be the perfect husband, and we would have perfect children and never want for anything.
“He didn’t want you to marry Brom because your mother wanted you to marry him. And his parents wanted you to marry him.” She pauses, slicing the celery with one hard cut. “And the Sisters wanted you to marry him. Because it was never up to you or Brom.”
“He wanted me to have my own free will,” I muse.
She purses her lips at that, tilting her head. “Yes…”
“And?”
“What he really wanted was for you to leave Sleepy Hollow.”
I shake my head. No. That goes against everything I’ve believed, everything I’ve heard.
“No,” I tell her. “That’s not it. His dying words were for me to watch over my mother.”
Her gaze is steady. “Are you sure he said what you think he said?” She leans in close. “I came here to work for your father, Kat. He hired me, took a chance on me when I had lost my husband and had no one, no prospects. I loved him like a son. My allegiance in his passing is to you, not to your mother.”
“Okay,” I say in a small voice, not expecting to hear this.
“There are very few people in this world that you can trust,” she says. “Your father was one of them. Your mother is not.”