“Come, dear sister!” She drew me into a floral-scented hug and squeezed my sides so hard I coughed. “Artur and I are going to be married! He proposed last night, after—well, I’ll tell you that part when we’re alone.”
The crushing losses of my friends and neighbors had pushed the possibility of Mally’s engagement to the back of my mind. I hugged her around the middle, trying to feel a shiver of happiness, but images of Nessa Daley gathering flowers and Alis’s jack-o’-lantern smile prevented me from offering more than a weak grin. “That’s wonderful, Mal. When’s the wedding?”
An excited squeal followed my words. “We’re going to have a feast!” Grayse cheered from the sofa, nearly walloping Fynn in the stomach in her excitement. “Capons and geese and hogs and breads and puddings …”
“The wedding’s on Thursday. Can you believe it?” Mally’s voice was as bright as Grayse’s, but something in her eyes told me she would be missing Nessa and Lugh’s mam helping her with the wedding preparations.
I looked to Mam. A wedding so soon was absurd. But she nodded, seeming to be at peace with the idea. I shifted my gaze back to Mally. “How will you put a wedding together in three days? It takes months to write to relatives, and arrange the music, and—”
“There won’t be time to invite a whole scutch of people from out of town,” Mally interrupted. “Artur’s uncle offered him a job in London, and our boat leaves a week from today.” She kissed the top of my head, her haunted eyes at odds with her radiant smile. “I’m going to miss you, Bry.”
“No, you won’t.” Mally frowned, and I hurried to add, “You’ll be too busy seeing the sights in England with me when I visit every other month.”
“Oh, good!” Softer, she added, “And be safe in the meantime, all right?”
“I will.” I embraced her again, holding on longer this time. “Now, what can I do to help?”
“Let’s discuss the preparations over tea, shall we?” Mally’s smile finally reached her eyes. “Perhaps Fynn and Artur can talk in the meantime. I’m sure they can find something in common.”
For the first time in my life, I was jealous of Artur. I needed to talk to Fynn, to find out what had changed his mind about leaving, or if he was simply putting off breaking my heart for another day. I wouldn’t beg him to stay, but I at least needed to know what memory prompted him to abandon us. Me.
Still, it wasn’t every day my eldest sister got engaged. Faking a smile, I followed Mally to the kitchen, listening to her prattle on about seating arrangements and music while I worried about having a wedding with the fossegrim lying in wait for a girl to call his bride. I couldn’t think of a greater beauty than Mally. What if the fossegrim found her lovely face too much of a temptation, and rose out of the water to claim her?
Mally couldn’t have chosen a worse time for a wedding.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Gasping for breath, I threw back my blankets and sat up as a dawn glow seeped through the window. A quick glance at my younger sisters assured me they were still asleep. How had my thrashing not awakened them?
Several gulps of air helped me shrug off the haze of exhaustion, but when I tried to recall the dream that had made me panic, I remembered only stinging water filling my nose and lungs. It made my chest feel so heavy that, even now, a weight remained pressed against my heart.
Out in the hallway, a floorboard popped. Perhaps Fynn was awake. I hadn’t had a chance to talk with him alone last night on account of the celebration, and I was eager for a chance to ask what had changed his mind about leaving.
I hurriedly dressed, but by the time I emerged in a skirt and blouse, the house was silent. Da’s boots and fishing gear were gone, and Fynn was curled up on the sofa, completely covered by a spare wool blanket.
Deciding not to wake him just yet, I glanced at Mam’s easel. A canvas sat there, shimmering wetly, and a piece of paper rested on her chair: Going to pick up some Samson for my head, then over to M.M.’s for a visit. Will be back around noon. Love, Mam.
I scrunched my eyebrows, staring at the note. The only M.M. I knew was Morag Maddrell. Why would Mam pay her a visit when there was so much to do before the wedding? Did she think, for even a second, that Morag would want to help plan a celebratory feast, much less attend one?
I laid the note back on the chair. If she’d gone to purchase Samson at the tavern before visiting Morag, her latest dream must have given her another headache. Still, the dark brew of treacle and hops was bound to dull the pain, at least for a few hours.