Chapter 6
Baltimore, Maryland - January 1874
Two weeks had crawled by, and each day a heavy stone lodged in Gabrielle's chest. She hadn't spoken to Violette since their tearful confrontation. Logic told her Violette's outburst was born from the heat of the moment, but the sting of her sister's words lingered. "He's as much my brother as you are my sister." The phrase echoed endlessly, a painful reminder of the sacrifices Gabrielle had made, the burdens she'd shouldered alone.
At eighteen, thrust into the role of guardian, she'd smothered her grief over their mother's death to create a semblance of normalcy for Violette. Yet, here she was, the responsible adult, feeling utterly adrift. The vast emptiness of the house mirrored the hollowness within her.
Violette tapped hesitantly on Gabrielle's door. "Brie," she called softly, "can I please come in?"
Gabrielle sat silently at her vanity and stared at her reflection. Be an adult Brie. She told herself silently.
Be the sister she needs.
The sister she deserves.
The mother she never knew.
Taking a deep breath, Violette pushed the door open a crack. Inside, the room that usually reflected Gabrielle's meticulous nature was in disarray. Clothes lay scattered, and empty glasses dotted the nightstand. But it was the sight of Gabrielle herself that stole Violette's breath.
Gone was the vibrant, composed sister Violette knew. In her place sat a woman shrouded in despair. Her once-warm chestnut hair hung limp and lifeless, framing eyes shadowed by exhaustion. The skin that was usually touched with a healthy glow was pale as if drained of all color.
"Brie," Violette whispered, her voice thick with concern. She crossed the room and gently placed a hand on Gabrielle's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
Gabrielle flinched slightly but remained fixed on her reflection in the vanity mirror. Violette picked up a brush and began to gently untangle the knots that had formed in Gabrielle's hair. The rhythmic strokes filled the silence, a silent offering of comfort.
For a time, there were only the soft sounds of brushing and the ragged gasps of Violette's indrawn breaths. Finally, Violette spoke again, her voice barely a whisper.
"Sister," she began, kneeling beside Gabrielle and resting her head on her lap. "I'm so ashamed of what I said. I don't know why it came out, but you know I love you."
A long pause followed, and then a hand, hesitant at first, began to stroke Violette's hair in a gesture of comfort.
"I know," Gabrielle finally whispered, her voice hoarse.
Violette lifted her head, searching for confirmation in her sister's eyes. "Do you forgive me?" She pleaded.
Gabrielle met her gaze, a flicker of warmth returning to her eyes. "Of course I do."
Relief washed over Violette, followed by a surge of love for her sister. "I love you, Brie," she declared, throwing her arms around Gabrielle in a tight embrace.