The minutes passed by in torturous hours, the hours seemingly transforming into days. Night blanketed the sky, which had faded from a brilliant red into a ghostly shade of obsidian. Alice had abandoned any attempt at doing anything at all and sat quietly at the wooden table, chin resting in the cradle of her hands, her unfocused gaze giving no indication of the turmoil within her mind.
A bowl of sweet corn mash appeared by her elbow. She looked up to see Uncas standing near the end of the table, his dark eyes full of concern.
"You should eat."
She turned her face back.
"I'm not hungry."
He nudged the bowl closer to her.
"You should eat."
She did not move. He took a seat across the table from her.
"Here," he said, procuring a wooden spoon from nearby. "We'll both eat." He scooped a small serving from the bowl, blew lightly on it and swallowed.
"Your turn."
She looked down at the bowl, a faint curl of steam emerging from the surface of the food. It did smell good. Reluctantly, she pulled the spoon from the center of the mash and took a bite. The warmth slowly sank to the bottom of her empty stomach, which, having received that small offering, took it upon itself to demand more. She ate another spoonful.
As she was finishing the bowl, she realized that he was still there, watching her. She suddenly felt very self-conscious.
"That was good. Thank you," she said, laying the spoon back in the bowl. He said nothing, only giving her a small smile, before he stood, taking both items away and placing them on one of the cabin's small shelves.
Now that she was fully cognizant of his presence there, the silence between them was threatening to spill into unease.
"Uncas?" Had she never said his name out loud before?
He turned back towards her, his hair gleaming ruddy in the firelight.
"Talk to me. Tell me…tell me about the people who lived here."
"The Camerons?"
"Yes. Tell me about them."
He sat down again, his forearms planted firmly on the table's rough surface.
"What do you want to know?"
"I don't know…What were they like?"
His eyes were drawn down towards the tabletop, as he found a knot in the grain of the wood and began to distractedly brush against it with his thumb.
"Kind," he replied. "And generous. Always had a ready place at the table for you."
She realized as he spoke that they were, in fact, sitting at that same table.
"And you had known them for some time?"
"Almost six summers now. Before Lucy came."
"Lucy?"
"Their little girl."
Alice felt a catch in her throat as she remembered the little doll, the green petticoat. The emotions of the day began wash over her, and she suddenly sensed the heat of the hearth-fire, the small strain in her own breathing.
It was also clear, from his token responses, that this was not something Uncas wanted to continue talking about.
"I'm sorry," she said, half as an apology, half as some measure of sympathy.
She felt a pang of guilt, bringing up something that was clearly still painful. As she had been taught to do by so many matrons of etiquette, she searched for a new subject to broach. She latched onto the first thing she could think of.
"Are you going to tell me what your father said?"
He paused for a moment, looking up at her and exhaling deeply, his mouth set as if he had decided something.
"He told me to stay away from you."
Alice was genuinely confused. Stay away? As if they were not all living here together, in this place?
"Why do you need to stay away from me?"
"Alice…" he said slowly, the word holding the trace of a question, as if he was somehow surprised that she didn't understand.
The space suddenly seemed much warmer to Alice, far too warm, as her heart began to beat a rapid pulse she felt even at the ends of her fingertips.
"Alice," he said again, his deep voice catching on the vowels in such a way to make her breath come up short.
The way he was looking at her, with such untold intensity, it was if there was nothing else in the world but her, as if there was no yesterday, no tomorrow, there was only now.
How could she explain it? How could she account for the fact that he had skirted around the edge of the table, his eyes still pouring into hers, and she had not moved? That his face had come closer towards hers, his soft earthy scent lingering in the air, and her lips had parted a little, her eyes had drawn closed? That she had arched slightly towards him, her mouth meeting his, as her heart exploded in cascading waves inside her chest?
There was no explanation. There was no accounting.
As his lips searched hers, Alice felt as if all the disparate parts of herself, the countless pieces that had been separated out for as long as she had known, all came rushing back together, for one brief moment making her whole.
He pulled back a little, moving his hand round to catch the side of her face, and she opened her eyes, glimpsing a faint flush emerging on his copper skin. As he moved to kiss her again, she cried out with a stifled sob, her head turning suddenly from his.
What had she done?
She pulled away, pushing back the wooden bench as she rose, wanting to get as far away as she could as quickly as possible. She didn't want to look at him, to have to see the confusion and hurt written across his face, to have to acknowledge within his eyes what had just been shared between them.
How could she have done it? What had she become?
As she turned, her feet awkward and stumbling, he took hold of her wrist, the touch of his skin still searing on hers. She looked back, just once, catching his gaze.
"Don't," she said, almost a whisper.
She ran to the relative safety of her bed, pitching herself down upon it, her cheeks burning in shame. Her back turned from him, a quilt drawn protectively over the side of her face, she heard him making small movements, as if putting away the remnants of the evening's meal and banking the fire for the night. Like an answered prayer, the room grew dark. It did not seem like he was going to try to talk to her.
What if anyone was to know? What if Cora…? Oh, Cora.
Alice could no longer contain the tidal force of emotion; it swept over her, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness. She began to cry, as quietly as she could, her body wracked with periodic sobs. It went on for some time, until finally, at last drained and exhausted, she faded into a troubled sleep.