Chapter Fifty-Nine

At first Carina seemed to take the news well. "It's not possible," she said. And since it wasn't possible, she didn't have to believe it. This lasted maybe an hour and gave the family enough time to get Marco on his way.

Then she began pacing.

Back and forth across the living room floor, sometimes down the hall to her bedroom, which was all wrong, then back to the living room and kitchen, which weren't right either. She haunted the rooms, staring at nothing and everything in confusion. It just wasn't possible that everything could have changed, yet still look exactly the same. Her movements became more agitated. Donovan handed the children plates of tortillas and late summer vegetables and sent them to their room while Amalia tried to do something with her sister.

"Honey, sit down, won't you?"

Carina paused to stare out a window, then started moving again. She wandered to different items in the room— table, bookcase, painting, Indian blanket, staring at each thing in turn with unseeing eyes as her breathing became more agitated. Her gaze fell upon the mirror hanging on the wall and before Amalia could react, she tore it from its hangings and dashed it to the floor.

The sound brought Donovan running as Carina began grabbing everything she could get her hands on, wordlessly and methodically destroying it. She picked up vases and smashed them, she upended a small table. She tried to rip the recently mended sofa cushions, but found that activity unsatisfactory and hurled a small footstool toward the window instead, where it thankfully missed the glass and crashed against the wall. She didn't scream or cry. She was on a simple, silent mission to obliterate everything she came into contact with.

Donovan met Amalia's eyes. "Should we stop her?"

The words had been said without acrimony, but Carina paused in the act of ripping a picture off the wall, walked over and slapped him.

Amalia came up behind her and Carina whirled around. Donovan grappled her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. "Stop it."

As if a human touch was all that was needed to release her voice, Carina screamed in long anguished wails that quickly robbed her of the strength to fight as Donovan pulled her to the floor. She collapsed in a heap, shrieking like she would never stop.

Amalia motioned Donovan away. "Might as well let her get it out."

He wasn’t so sure. He tried to put an arm around Carina’s shoulders, but she kept screaming as if he wasn’t there. He looked at Amalia in concern.

Amalia shook her head, located the damaged footstool and sat down to wait. At one point the children appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed with concern, but she hurried them back to their bedroom, telling them this was “grownups’ business.”

Donovan watched Carina’s heaving shoulders, waiting for just what, he wasn’t sure. It seemed she was going to do this all night. Didn’t she at least need to breathe?

Finally the timber of her voice changed. The screams dissolved into keening sobs and this seemed to be what Amalia had been waiting for. She sat on the floor and pulled her into her lap, rocking her back and forth and letting loose a flood of words that Donovan couldn’t make out. When she finally looked at him, tears were streaking her own face, too. “Get a handkerchief,” she said. “Get several. And a glass of water.”

Donovan rushed to take care of these small errands. He returned with a stack of clean cotton rags and a cup of cold water from the jug in the kitchen pantry. Amalia wet one of the rags and wiped Carina’s face, which stopped her tears for a moment. She took a few deep breaths, then buried her face in Amalia’s lap and continued crying.

This went on until they had worked their way through nearly half the stack of rags. By now even Amalia was starting to show signs of concern. “Aren’t you tired yet, honey?” She rubbed Carina’s back and shoulders, but this seemed to set off more gasping and tears. She motioned to Donovan. “I need to get something. Could you?” She deposited Carina in his arms.

She was gone a long time, and when she returned she was carrying a fresh rag and a bottle that Donovan thought looked familiar. “I hate to do this,” she told him as she dampened the rag. Donovan moved back while Amalia held the rag over Carina’s face. She struggled only a moment, then lay still.

Amalia set the chloroform aside. “Let’s put her to bed. I hope we won’t have to go through this again tomorrow, because we can't watch her all day long and it's not like we can keep her drugged up and quarantined, either.”

She was so light that Donovan carried her without any trouble. They laid her on her bed and Amalia began stripping off her clothes. “Get a cool washrag so I can clean her up."

When he came back, he found Carina asleep under a quilt. He sat beside her and wiped her red, puffy face. “I had no idea anyone could cry that long."

“I guess it looked a little dramatic, but she hasn’t cried since we moved here.” Amalia sat on the other bed and looked around the room at the pictures and memorabilia. “I knew it had to catch up with her sometime. You can’t go that long faking it and not have it build up inside.”

“So what happens now?”

“I have no idea.”

“Alvi’s letter said...”

“Yes. I guess at least one of us is going to have to make the trip to Jonasville.”

“I can go.”

Amalia shook her head. “It’s a federal town. Even with your papers, it’s not safe. Besides, they’ll want to see proof of kinship.”

“Alvi will make sure they release the body.”

“Why do you say that?”

Obviously she didn’t know Alvi was a spy. “Just a feeling I have.”

She dropped her head. “Miles was a nice man. I was fond of him. He would’ve been a big help to us, and to the valley, but mostly I was hoping...” she looked at the still form of her sister.

“Do you want to come to bed?” Donovan asked, taking her hand. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m going to sleep in here tonight, in case she needs me.”

“Can I stay with you?”

Amalia buried her face against Donovan’s chest, wetting his shirt with her tears.

An hour later, Will and Tasha dared peek in the room. They found Carina still unconscious, Donovan and Amalia curled up asleep in the other bed. The children looked at them, then at each other in puzzled silence. Then Will pulled the door to and they walked away, whispering to each other in the darkened hallway.

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