Miriam shivered as she closed the door. Then she looked back at me with her eyebrows raised. “You walked? Alone? Up the hill through the blizzard? People die in weather like this.”
“It wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made,” I admitted. “I saw something on the way here. Some kind of animal, I think. It was big. And white. What do you think it could be?”
“You’re in the country now. It could have been anything.” My eyes must have widened, because Miriam seemed to take pity on me. “I wouldn’t be too concerned,” she added. “There aren’t many animals around Louth that would go after a human. And those that would aren’t smart enough to pick the locks on a door.” Then she cocked her head toward the mansion’s grand staircase. “Come along and I’ll show you up to your room. After your trip you must be exhausted.”
As I followed her across the entrance hall toward the stairs, I noticed that the stone floors were pockmarked, and the plaster walls had been patched but left rough in places. I knew that was how Uncle James had wanted it—imperfect. When I was little, he told me that true beauty is flawed. I was an ugly duckling, so people said that kind of thing to me all the time. But I knew James actually meant it, and his house proved him right. It was a masterpiece. Above our heads, the crystals of a massive chandelier caught the candlelight. The impression the room gave was one of great age and dignity. Having greeted thousands of guests in its time, it was far too splendid to be bothered with an outcast like me. As I climbed the stairs, I searched for signs of fire damage. I didn’t see any, but there was still a faint stench of smoke in the air.
“Do you live here?” I asked Miriam.
“I stay overnight when I’m needed. James asked me to be here to welcome you. Then the blizzard hit and the lights went out. So I’ll be sleeping in one of the guest rooms tonight.”
“Is James away?” I asked.
“No, he’s here,” she replied. “Since we’re getting to know each other, I have a question for you, too.”
“Okay,” I said, steeling myself for the worst.
“ ‘Bram’ is an unusual name for a girl, isn’t it?”
I relaxed a bit. It was a question I was often asked. “My father’s name was Abraham,” I said. “I look like him, so they nicknamed me ‘Bram.’ He’s dead now.”
“Oh,” Miriam said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I said nothing. People had been telling me the same thing for years. It had taken me a while to figure out that it was just what people were supposed to do—pretend that they cared. No one ever really meant it.
At the top of the stairs, there were doors on either side of the landing. When Miriam and I hung a right and entered a long corridor, I knew it was the opposite wing of the house that had burned. She guided me past the first two doors in the hall and then stopped at the third, which she opened.
The first thing I saw was the crackling fire. It drew me in, and I suddenly realized how cold I still was. My clothing was sopping wet from melted snow, and I’d almost gone numb from the knees down. Then I noticed the room’s décor—a four-poster bed with a duvet decorated with tiny pink buds. A vanity stood beside a plush armchair covered in rose-colored velvet. The room’s windows hid behind matching curtains, and dark green paint covered the walls.
“I’m just putting you here for the night,” Miriam assured me as I made my way toward the fireplace. I wondered if she worried that the girly décor might offend me. I was thrilled just to have a place to sleep. “With the power out, it would be too cold in the room James chose for you. This one has the best fireplace in the house. But I promise—first thing tomorrow, we’ll move you.”
“This room is fine,” I told her. My skin prickled from the heat of the fire. Pleasure and pain mingled together.
“It should do for now. We’ll get you into the right room in the morning.”
I glanced over at Miriam. She was still standing in the hall. She seemed reluctant to enter. “Seriously, this one’s fine,” I assured her. I didn’t want anyone making a fuss over me.
“Oh good,” she said, though she still seemed agitated. “Here—” She fished two items from the pocket of her robe and headed toward me with an arm outstretched. One of the items was a yellow candle, and the second was a box of safety matches. “Just in case.”
“It’s okay. My phone has a flashlight,” I said, holding up the device. But when I clicked the screen, it was dead. The flashlight app had drained the battery, and my charger was back in Boris’s car. I reached for the candle and matches.
“Thank you,” I told her.
“Be careful with the candle,” she warned me. “Don’t fall asleep with it lit. You know—”
I nodded. “Yes. I’ll be careful.”
When her smile returned, it was far less convincing. “What would you like for your welcome breakfast?” she asked. “How about bacon and eggs?”
“Sounds perfect,” I told her, hoping she’d just leave me be.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you in the morning,” Miriam said, heading back to the door. As she reached it, she seemed to hesitate for a moment with her hand on the knob, as if there were something else she wanted to say. But she held her tongue. I turned back to the fire and heard the door close behind her.
I enjoyed the heat for a few more moments before I set the candle on the bedside table and dragged a chair from the vanity to the fireplace. I stripped out of my wet clothes and hung them in front of the blaze to dry. Then I stood there in my underwear, rotating slowly like a pig on a spit. As feeling finally returned to my limbs, I realized that the room’s walls weren’t a uniform green. In the dim light, I could see the outline of trees painted on the walls all around me. I imagined myself lost in a dark forest, scared and alone, with no hope of rescue, and the fear from my walk up the hill returned. I bolted for the bed and burrowed under the covers. They smelled like smoke, but I didn’t care. I pulled the blankets up over my head. Some people run when they’re terrified. Some people scream. I’d learned to hide and hope it all went away. It was a habit I knew I needed to break.
* * *
—
When I woke in the middle of the night, I wasn’t even sure that my eyes were open. The fire had died, and the room was so dark, it was as if I’d been swallowed. But I knew that I wasn’t alone. I held my breath and listened. I could hear the faint sound of footsteps nearby. That was enough. I was wide-awake in an instant. My hand shot out from beneath my blankets toward the nightstand and landed first on my lifeless phone. I was teetering on the edge of panic when my fingers finally located the candle and matches Miriam had left me.