The Sun and Moon and Stars

Chapter XIX

Frances had only been asleep for a few hours. More like half-asleep, her breathing regulated and her mind not thinking of anything at all, but still aware of her surroundings. Still aware that Julian woke up just as the first rays of sun peaked over the horizon. Still aware of the moment she'd have to wake up to make it out in time.

She snapped the blankets off her legs and stepped on the cold wooden floors of the deadly morning hours. The chill settled around her bones and even her housecoat and shawl did little to ward off the cold. The frosty air burned her lungs with every breath.

She pulled out her carpetbag and trunk from beneath her bed and began to fill them with everything in the dresser drawers. Her dresses, skirts, blouses, undergarments, stockings...She left the broken frame on the floor and slipped out the picture from between two glass shards. Two faces—her father, her mother—stared back at her. She slipped it in between two soft blouses and placed her bible on top of it all. She quickly undressed, tucking her nightgown and housecoat around the outside. She buttoned up her bag and trunk and quickly dressed in the skirt and blouse she had left out, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders.

She picked up her boots and eased the door open. She didn't want the wooden heels to wake anyone up.

She placed her boots and luggage at the top of the staircase and slipped into the children's room. She placed a little kiss on Rebecca's forehead and pulled her covers up over her shoulders. Her round cheeks were red and her lips gently sucked at her thumb.

Jem was splayed out, her feet over the covers and his arms stretched up over his head. Frances couldn't help but smile. The poor little boy was most likely cold, she carefully lifted his feet and pulled his blankets over them, tucking them under his china before pressing a kiss to his nose and brushing an eyelash from his cheek.

Her eyes began to sting. She loved these children like they were her own. For a second she thought of going back to her room and going back to sleep, as if none of this happened, beginning a life here, with Julian.

But she couldn't. She couldn't sell her soul, especially for her own selfish happiness.

She left the room without another look at the children. She knew she'd wake the entire house with her crying if she saw them again.

Down the stairs and out the door... Sitting on the porch steps, she pulled on her boots and laced them up. She set her jaw and lifted her chin. She was doing the right thing. She knew it.

She hitched the horse to the wagon—she had done it enough times over the months—and stepped up into the driver's box. With a flick of the whip, the wagon lurched forward down the dirt road. Frances looked back once. It was exactly as it had looked the first time she had laid eyes on it: white with green shutters, old but homey. But it looked completely different: the porch was no longer crooked, and grass grew where before had only been dirt and patches of weed.

Without realizing it, her had raised in a wave. A shutter swung on its hinge, as if returning the goodbye.

She turned back to face the front and urged the horse to pick up the pace.

When she reached Malborrow Creek, she hitched the wagon at the front of the postmaster's home. She quickly peaked her head inside and asked Mr. Blake to keep an eye on the wagon until Julian came to pick it up.

She then crossed the street, to a little shop on a corner that had a big black swinging sign with the words "Coffins and Funerals" printed in silver cursive letters.

The door was locked so she knocked until someone came up to the window. The coroner didn't look too happy, his mustache uncombed and his monocle crooked on his nose.