Chapter 27 – September 1916 – All the things that I have broken
Henry awakened slowly to the sound of a bell. In his dream, it was the alarm bell, the siren he hadn't sounded. In his dream, they all came spilling out, escaping just in time.
The bell was still ringing when his eyes crawled open, heavy and raw. It rang on and on as the lifeless room came into view and hope dissipated back into mist, the aching in his chest returning for another morning.
Sitting up slowly, he tried to clear the fog from his mind. He'd slept in his clothes, mostly. His suit coat was somewhere… There, on the floor, too close to where the fire had gone out. He shrugged it on and stretched his mouth, his tongue dried out from the night's continuous pours of bourbon. The wet spot on his coat sleeve told him he would find the last glass on the floor as well, a stream of amber snaking out to stain the wood. He wouldn't find the one before that, though, the one whose pieces were still melting in the fireplace ash.
It was Sunday, he was pretty sure, but this didn't sound like the church bell. For one thing, it had gone on much too long. When Henry finally made his way stiffly to the window and peered outside, he saw that Elizabeth was standing on the steps of the café, the school bell in her hand.
Abigail.
He gargled quickly, wiping his mouth on the wet sleeve as he fumbled down the stairs. The high sun assaulting his eyes when he stepped out onto the stoop confirmed that he had finally managed to drink himself into a long stupor last night. He kept back near his door, the distance shrouding the stink of stale alcohol and allowing the possibility of quick retreat.
"I'm sorry to disrupt you all on your way back from worship today," Elizabeth was saying. "But something has happened."
The townsfolk seemed collectively to hold their breaths, their eyes darting around with curiosity and concern. Laura was cradling little Jack on her shoulder down in front of the porch, easing any immediate worries that some serious ill had befallen the child. Elizabeth leaned down suddenly, an urgent voice in Laura's ear. The young woman nodded at whatever was said, then began to beckon her school friends out of the crowd. Parents took notice, giving their children reassuring smiles or brief worried kisses before shooing them off to follow the others down the road. Some groaned, begging to be allowed to stay. Had Henry been in any state to watch, he wagered he'd have seen a few ducking behind the mercantile.
But with the crowd thinning, it became impossible not to notice those who were absent. The name began to rise up from among the widows – the person Henry had known implicitly he would not find among their number. It was Rosemary who finally asked what everyone else – what Henry – hadn't been able to ask aloud.
"Elizabeth? Where are Abigail and Cody?"
A shuffle of feet behind Elizabeth made Henry suddenly aware of Bill's presence by the café door. He stood just beyond the schoolteacher, his head lowered and expression faltering, an uncharacteristic display of discomfort. Elizabeth glanced back at him and worried her lips together. Henry's heart began to pound with a fearful anticipation until at last she forced the words out.
"They've gone," she said.
The crowd gasped; Henry exhaled.
She was okay. She was alive.
He hadn't admitted this darkest fear to himself last night. Each time it simmered up, he would push it away with another tilt of the glass. The closest he had come to letting the terrible words take any full form was this moment, and now he gladly let them flee from his mind again, his chest nearly bursting from the relief of not needing them anymore.
But yes, she was still gone. It would devastate him when the reality of what that meant finally caught up to him, he knew, but… in a way, he had expected it. It felt familiar. As stubborn as either of them could be, this was the one thing they had always run from. It seemed they always would.
Above the growing commotion, Elizabeth was straining to be heard. "Please! Another moment and I can explain! Everyone! She left a letter!"
The air went abruptly still, a vacuum lurching around his stomach.
A letter.
Goosebumps sprouted, racing in tingling stripes down his arm. He had not expected a letter. Too many of them in the past 24 hours, twisting and turning his life inside the curls of their ink. He swayed toward a beam, putting a hand out to keep himself steady. God save him from another damned letter.
Elizabeth shrank back again once the din quieted, clearly uncomfortable as she began to unfold the paper he now noticed in her other hand. "It's not my choice to read this to you," she said, her voice harsh as she tried to keep composed. "I was left instructions that insisted its contents be shared. That they be read aloud, in public. When they are, I beg that we all remember how important and kind Abigail has always been to all of us."
Every eye and ear was turned to her now. Clara was clinging to Jesse's arm, looking close to collapse. She would know already, wouldn't she? What it said? The dull throbbing in Henry's head came raging forward into his awareness, but he forced himself to stand firm and face whatever would be revealed, trained too well to show weakness outright.
Elizabeth's hands fumbled around the letter. Bill stepped closer, but Elizabeth shook her head to keep him back. "I'll do it. I should do it," she said quietly. Taking a deep breath, she began.
"Friends," she read. "This is the last time I know I'll still be able to call you that.
"I'm sorry to leave so suddenly, but you'll see soon enough that it is for the best. I've learned something that I cannot keep from you all, when we've all suffered so much trying to understand the tragedy that befell our community six years ago.
"I fought to find the truth after the accident. I said it deserved to be known no matter what it was. Today I am called upon to prove my commitment to you and to that promise. Today I am tested by my own sense of honor, which, had I held fast to it when it was last tested, would have prevented all of this loss.
"Because the truth is…" Elizabeth stopped and shut her eyes. Bill laid a hand on her back, keeping her steady as she swallowed back tears. "The truth is that it was my disloyalty to my husband that ended forty-seven lives. The lives of your friends and your families. The husbands and sons you loved with all your hearts. The truth is that my selfishness took them all away from you.
"The ventilation system at the mine was not working properly, as we all now know. It was my Noah's responsibility to keep track of the faulty equipment and make sure it was started each day. The other men didn't know of the possible risks. The only people who knew were Henry, Noah, and our son Peter. Noah and Henry had agreed to keep quiet, thinking the Company would be more responsive to their loyalty. Peter trusted in his father and, I can recognize now, was thinking only of his beautiful new bride the day of the explosion. But my husband was not himself, and not in his right mind. Instead he was overcome by my…" Elizabeth paused here, collecting herself once more before continuing.
"He was overcome by my infidelity."
The shock that rumbled through the crowd was background noise to Henry's whooshing head. His features hardened, self-preservation and nausea taking control.
"I was a married woman and I was in love with someone else," Elizabeth read. "Though I never acted on it, and never told the other man, my feelings for him were discovered that morning by my husband. Unbeknownst to me until today, Noah found a shameful letter I had recklessly written and kept. He became understandably distraught, arriving at work that day in a stricken state.
"The ventilation equipment was never started. When Noah realized, he ran into the mine to warn the men, but it was too late. The mine was already unsafe.
"The Company has already paid for their part in this. And it turns out they had some right to try to point the finger at Noah during the trial. But blame lies with me too, and now that I know, I will not hide it from you.
"I am not asking for forgiveness. I don't imagine it to be possible. And I would not insult any of you – the widows who have experienced so much loss, that I had so little right to experience beside you – I would not insult any of you so much as to seek it. There's not a single word I can write or say that will change what I've done. I'm writing this only so you have the truth, and to say goodbye.
"I will…" Elizabeth stopped, choking on the words again. "I will regret the destruction and pain I've caused every single day. With all of my wretched soul. Yours, Abigail."
Elizabeth had barely gone quiet when a cry rang out from the center of the throng. Henry turned with all the others to see Molly Sullivan crumple down to the dust.
The widows and sisters and mothers converged immediately beside her, pulled together like a reflex at the sight of one another's grief. Around them, the ones who had since come, the ones who knew nothing of that memory and how it coursed in the very veins of this town, floated out of their consciousness. With them went Clara, fleeing from the edges of the crowd. Like Henry, she had found no place on the hill that day. Like Henry, she had been a secret.
He would not wait for the probing eyes to eventually cast their accusations in his direction. She had not named him, and there was undoubtedly a reason why. With this he justified his cowardice, his retreat back into the shadows of his stairway. Using all of his effort, he managed not to slam the door into its catches behind him.
Through the pores of the wood Molly's sobs continued to bleed, ripping at his heart. He snapped forward, turning the lock until its click meant he was safe.
He forced himself up the steps, plodding through the climb, his breath shortening. The chatter of the town was muffled but still present outside the flimsy walls and windows. One indictment cleared away, and another come to take its place. Not everyone would suspect, but the ones here long enough. The rest would talk. In their stares and whispers he would be forced to relive it again and again. The confrontation, the workarounds, the trial… all of it. Safe? he scoffed. He was never going to be safe. His men were never going to be safe.
And now he had lost her too. What had he done? What had he done?
Light-headed, he collapsed into his chair, struggling for air. He couldn't catch his breath. Gradually his gasps became more panicked, hyperventilation gripping him in a feedback loop. His eyes grew wide with terror until a straining seized his chest and forced them closed against the pain. He pushed his body into the chair as hard as he could, trying to shrink and climb into its crevices. Grabbing at his chest, he willed his heart to stop its rapid escape, half of him wishing he could claw out of his body along with it instead. His ears began to scream. Was Elizabeth ringing the bell again? … No. No, it was the alarm bell. High and slow.
He was racing through ash, running from that black cloud, pulling at levers. If he could just find the right one, he could reverse it.
This was his fault. This was all his fault.
Henry wailed out into the empty house, the memories pounding in his head until his stomach purged them onto the floor and everything fell away.
