Chapter 24

Mr. Green POV

My days seem pointless now Sara is gone. I have no reason to stay here. All her life I have watched her grow, and protected her from afar. What now is my task? Reaching further into the raised bed, I snip a few more herbs to brew some tea for Marianne. She's not been the same since that night. She is a broken woman. To be honest, her husband broke her long ago. Now she is simply surviving, like a zombie, a walking dead. I slightly hissed as I caught my fingertip with the sharp secateurs. Oh. It's a nasty cut, one that goes rather deep. Instinctively, I shook my hand before sucking at the wound. How could I be so clumsy? Shaking my head in disbelief, I got to my feet, picking up the old wicker basket from the floor. Walking from the herb garden was always a peaceful walk. Very few people ever ventured to the herb gardens. Slowly, I stroll back to the stone house, passing other members of staff as I go, "Morning Miss Eleanor." I smile with a warm nod. Miss Eleanor was an older woman, rather plump in her old age. She has a face filled with wrinkles and a few age spots on her left cheek and forehead. Her features were petite and her eyes a shade of blue that looked like they were made from cornflower petals. She was dressed in her typical black uniform with her perfectly pressed white apron. I am certain in her youth she would have been a beautiful lady."Oh dear, Mr. Green, you caught me by surprise." She shook her head, smiling. "My apologies, Miss Eleanor, how are you this morning?"

"I'm doing OK I guess. This weather change is making my bones ache. I dread to see how they will feel when winter comes." She wrapped her arms around her body as if to show she was feeling cold. Now that she mentioned it, it was a bit nippy this morning. Glancing around at the trees, I could spot a handful of leaves beginning to turn to a lovely shade of orange - looks like autumn is here. "I am sorry to hear you are suffering, Miss Eleanor. I will see if I can rustle you up some tea to help with your aches." She reached out to squeeze my arm, her own upper arm fat jiggling as she gave my own a squeeze and a wiggle, "You are good to me, Mr. Green, thank you."

"You're more than welcome, now if you'd excuse me, I have to brew Mrs. Grainger, a pot of tea," I explained, lifting up my basket.

Closing her eyes while she nodded, she slapped my arm a few times after releasing her grip and dropped her arm to her side before leaving me to pass.

In the kitchen, I walk over to the sink and fill the metal tea kettle with fresh water from the tap. Tea always tastes best with freshly boiled water. The clicking of the hob lighting is the only sound in the room as the metal kettle clips against the metal hob ring. Collecting a small ceramic teapot from the cupboard, I carefully poured a sachet of mixed herbs and spices I had collected from the gardens, taking care not to spill anywhere else. It has become second nature now to carry a small cloth to clean up any messes I was to make, Mr. Grainger is very particular when it comes to any mess, and although he is not here today, I can't find the energy to fight with him again. Mr. Grainger is a tough man, not someone I am fond of. Over the years, we have butted heads more times than I can count - Lord knows the only reason I stuck around was for Sara. Now she's gone, I'm not sure of my purpose. A deep gut-wrenching feeling washed over me as I thought of her. She was still that beautiful little girl that would run over to me to show me what new plant she had found, be it a blade of grass or a daisy. I loved that she wanted to share it with me. Tears found my eyes and spilled out. No one was here to see them there, but even if there was, I have no shame. I loved that child as if she were my own daughter, watched her grow, and tried my best to teach and guide her. A sudden and piercing whistle reminded me of my task. I trotted over to the stove extinguishing the flame and lifting the red metal tea kettle over to the teapot. The tea kettle looked like it must be quite an age now, the bottle had a sticky dark residue burned into it and the red paint was chipped in numerous places. As I poured the water into the teapot, a steam cloud filled the air, giving me a momentary feeling of being in a relaxing steam room at the spa - not that I've ever been but I have read about them in books and I imagine that's how it would feel, random balls of warm water-air being pulsed at you. As the hot water hit the tea mixture, the different aromas permeated the air, adding to that spa-like illusion. Leaving the drink to brew, I collected all I would need. A well-worn wicker tray, a small, white China tea cup with a gold-rimmed edge and matching saucer- the dishes were adorned by beautiful flowers and leaves, and, of course, a teaspoon and the teapot. Wiping my hands onto my overalls, I searched the room with my eyes looking for something to add to the empty spot on the tray. Darting across the room after spotting a vase of red roses, I grabbed the most beautiful, smelling it deeply before adding it to the tray.

The tray of dishes tinkled as I ascended the stairs toward Mrs. Grainger's room. I knew I would find her there. These few weeks have been incredibly difficult for her and she very rarely leaves the room. Her husband, on the other hand, does not share this affliction, seemingly indifferent to the situation. The manor house was mostly made of stone and, for this reason, it always felt cold in the halls. Arriving at the correct door, I tap at it with my knuckles rhythmically. Tap, tap, tap tap. Over a minute went by before she answered "come in." The words sounded as though they took all her energy to form them. It seemed that every time she must engage with the words it was a burden almost too much to bear. "Morning Mrs. Grainger, how are you today?" she is sitting in her window nook, looking out at the gardens, not acknowledging I was in the room. There is a small table to the right of the fireplace which has a strong fire burning within the hearth, on which I place the tea tray. Expecting no response, I continued to pour the tea, splashing some onto my hand. I hiss as the pain of the tea burns into my skin- it is just a drop, but I curse as I quickly use my cloth to wipe the single drop away. Surely enough, it is as though a drop of acid had been placed on the skin. Sucking up the pain, I very carefully passed the teacup to Mrs. Grainger. "Drink this Mrs. Grainger, it will help." She accepts the cup but makes no attempt to drink. "Marianne... you need to drink." A slight movement suggests she glances over and begins to sip the drink, keeping her distance as she took her first few sips waiting for the tea to help calm her.

"Marianne, tell me, how are you?"

"Oh Mr. Green, I hadn't noticed you there. It's a hard day." She answered nonchalantly, holding the cup and saucer with both hands. Her eyes wandered the room as if only just noticing she was in it.

"There's no one else here, Marianne; we do not need formalities." She nodded her agreement with a smile that did not meet her eyes.

"Michael has left to do some duties, he will be gone a few months." She began explaining as if I hadn't been there to witness the events unfold. "He left after the funeral. God, it feels like so long ago and yet the pain is still freshly carved - as though someone cut a chunk out of my heart and expected it to carry on beating." She placed the teacup down to wipe away her tears.

"Let us be thankful Brett survived and is healing well, I hear."

"Is he?" she looked confused, the doctor regularly updates her but she has been so overcome with her grief she must not be taking it in.

"Yes, the doctors say the healing will take some time but it will come."

"And what about Sara? Have they found Sara?" Bile rose in my throat as she asked about Sara, they never bother to even try to find her. Michael determined it too dangerous to venture into the woods and, from Brett's explanation, she was dead the moment the wild animal got her. He had explained the beast must have been starving and crawled out of the woods, dragging Sara away after catching her off guard. The group of men fought to save her but they were no match and many lives were lost in the process. "No." was all I could muster at the time.

"Oh." Marianne turned her attention back out the window, staring at the woods, as if waiting for Sara to return, walking out as if nothing had happened.

"I remember the day she arrived in my life. That sweet bundle of joy with her perfectly small fingers and beautiful red hair." I remember her that way all too well, still, she told the story to me as though I hadn't known it and I listened, as though I hadn't known it. "Michael had been away for 3 months and we had no idea when he would return. The twins were only 5 months old when he left and my mood just depleted with each day. I remember praying to God every night to help me. To show me a sign." she paused briefly while she remembered the past. "I remember feeling a sense of sadness like I'd never known. Like running into those goddamn woods, would be the best thing I could do. As the days went on, I felt more and more helpless and the staff helped Lyla and the twins more and more." You could see she felt deep shame at admitting this. "That night before bed I prayed, I begged god to show me the way. To help save my soul." She looked at me, pointing and shaking her hand at me. "That night you arrived, knocking on my door with Sara in your arms saying you were new to the town and in need of work. In my misery, I didn't even see the full picture. You told me... You told me you found her all alone at the edge of the trees. I was... Dumbfounded. Who would leave a sweet girl out there? One look at her and I knew. He had sent her to me. She was my sign. I took that little baby out of your arms and I never let go. I was her mother. You never once argued this with me, you just came in and helped us get settled, brewing a pot of tea, and you've been with me ever since." Tears streamed down Marianne's tired face, like steady flowing water with no breaks and her face stayed in the same position. It was as though the floodgates had opened and there was nothing holding them back. "I failed her, Jakob." She sucked her bottom lip and looked solemn.

"Marianne, no don't do this." The truth was I too felt like a failure.

"No. No, it's true. She grew up feeling unloved. Unwanted. Her father, Michael, never accepted her. When he returned from war all these years later, I thought he would love her as I did. Welcome her as I did. But the war made him cold. I explained how she arrived but he never did believe me. His mistrust of me turned to hate towards her. My poor sweet girl. I tried to save her, to stand up to him, but this only made it worse for her. The last time he warned me, the next time I tried to save her, he would drown her like the unwanted litter she was. I could see in his eyes he meant it and I knew he was not the man I married. Deep inside of him, something had died in the 6 years he was gone. The way he looked at her scared me, he would do it. So to protect her, I had to let him torment her, punish her and act unscathed like it was perfect. The shame I feel now. I should have done more and now I cannot even bury her at home with me." She fell to the floor letting out a kenning sob. You would think she had birthed Sara herself. I should have saved, it was my duty, my role. Falling to the floor beside Marianne, I placed my hands on her cheeks. "This is not your fault." She choked back her sobs as she looked at me red-eyed, and she had a little mucus wetting her upper lip. I could see she was screaming inside for someone to wake her up from this nightmare. Pulling out a handkerchief, I passed it to her, never breaking eye contact. The room was thick with tension. Breaking it first, Marianne looked at my hand to accept the handkerchief for her nose. "Oh, you're bleeding?" What? Oh, s**t the cut from earlier - I should have cleaned that. "Just a little cut... see nothing there" I licked my thumb and wiped the blood, with a reassuring smile. This sufficed as she squeezed her nose and folded the cloth over. "Get some rest Marianne, I will check on Brett and prepare him some tea if he's up for it." She smiled to show her gratitude as I squeezed her arm before exiting the room as slowly as possible, so it did not seem I was running away. I needed a break from her pain as it reminded me of just how raw my own was. Maybe it's time I returned home and left this place and the pain behind.

Continuing down the hall towards Brett's room, his door was slightly ajar, yet I made no effort to enter, still trying to compose myself from my recent conversation with Marianne. I completely understand how she is feeling, as although I never called myself her father, I loved her with every bone in my body. Unforgivable. I failed her in such a way I don't believe I will ever forgive myself for it. Leaning my back toward the wall for support, I crouched down, head in my hands, willing this nightmare over. There was a rustling in the room that indicated Brett had company. "You say nothing!" The voice was sharp but quiet. Having heard that voice countless times over the years, I knew it was Lylas. "You heard what father taught us, she was not our sister. She was someone else's trash left on our property and mother failed to clear it up in the correct manner, instead, she left it to fester and infect our lives to the point of no return." They were talking about Sara. The realisation enraged me, that vile excuse for humans. "If father had only agreed I would never have gone after her like that..."

"Shush." She cut him off sharply once more. "You never tried to do anything." she dragged out the last word for far longer than needed. "She was our sister to you, nothing more. You were already outside that night when you saw her walking to the tree line. You followed her as you knew the woods were dangerous at night. That's when that bear attacked you."

"Wolf" He injected. Wolf?

"Get your story right! Have you ever seen a wolf the size you're claiming? It was a bear. a big black bear. You ran after her to try and save her but it was too late. It killed her and the others, protecting its kill. You saw her body being dragged away, there was no way she survived. Period. Do you want to be known as the hero who tried to save his sister from a blood-hungry wild animal or the wild animal who tried to rape his sister outside of her own party and she ran into the bloody woods to escape and a humongous killer wolf saved her?" She finished speaking with an exaggerated hmm.

My body shook from head to toe, he did what? Standing straight and tall at my full 6ft 3in, I pushed the ajar door open wide, eyes pinned on Brett. If I could kill him now and get away to leave, I would. His skin was ashen and I could feel the terror in his eyes. His face was still mangled on one side although the wounds were beginning to heal. It was plausible a bear could have done this kind of damage. The only reason I'm grateful there wasn't more was now I know the truth. "Sara." Brett froze at the mention of her name, "she's alive?" He said nothing but his expression said all I needed to know. Throwing a glance at Lyla, her stony face looked back at me, through her black fashion veil. Never did she miss a chance for dramatics this one. Vile, evil cockroaches. Turning on my heel, I knew I had to find her. It'd been many years since I'd ventured into the woods, but that was no matter - she was my top priority, and I would not fail her again.