Chapter 24 - Reconciliation

The night had yet to end. It could only continue in the spirit of friendship and forgiveness.

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Recap: In the previous chapter, Johann discovered that his cat had never been a cat after all.

He had shifted into the form of a man and called himself the graveyard keeper. He also claimed to know how to undo the spell which the Elf had cast on the spirits in the graveyard.

Could this be the truth? Would they, indeed, find peace?

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“When do you think he’s going to return?” Johann asked crossly, digging through his supply cupboard for the materials that Astrid needed to create the charm.

The graveyard keeper, the cat who wasn’t a cat, had said vaguely that he knew where to find one necessary ingredient. He’d vanished out the door and into the night with the ease of a person who knew their surroundings.

It was no surprise, Johann reasoned with some bitterness; the old cat had been in the Greenhouse, and perhaps even roaming the large house, when he and Nina arrived. As they made the old house into a home fit for a family, the cat had watched in silence.

Johann should have noticed that it never grew old. He should have been suspicious that it was still alive and well, fifteen years later.

But what would I have done? he thought, with a tired sigh. Cast the cat away? It was doing no harm…

“One thing I have learned,” said Astrid calmly, “is that when we encounter people with ancient titles such as gravekeeper, it’s best to trust that what they’re doing is useful and necessary. While I already had an idea for how to settle the matter of the spirits, I will happily try his first. He knows this land and its energy better than I do.”

Johann did not reply. He supposed that of the two of them, at least Astrid had to be rational.

His sense of truth had fractured; now he was numbly doing as told by the man who was not a cat. Anything, so long as the spirits could be restored by the end of it. Anything, and hopefully he would have a quiet backyard again.

His children did not deserve this. His wife had already suffered greatly because of it. Even if Johann must swallow his pride and listen to Wolfgang, he would set things right once more.

Astrid spoke next, and when she did, it took him a moment to realize that she was speaking of their past.

“It was lonely after you left Cinder House,” she said, voice dropping to scarcely a whisper. “I understand why you did, and acknowledge that I was treated better by our mother. That doesn’t mean it was easier to be alone with her.

“There is doting—and there is obsessing—which is why I also wound up fleeing, finding a place as far from her as possible.” She sighed. “I did what was necessary, sacrificing my dignity. I ensnared a man who was not likely to live a year after the wedding.

“Though I’m not exactly proud, I don’t consider myself to have harmed him. I cared for him, and made sure to provide good companionship, right until the end. I did not want to join my mother’s coven. I did not want to be like her.”

Johann turned, staring at her face. His heart searched for something, though he could not name what it was.

He remembered Mr. Shelley’s words of advice. Settle it while you are alive. There won’t be another opportunity. Spoken by a literal ghost, those words could not have been more true. They were heavy with meaning, as he tried to learn about the sister he’d cast out.

He went to the empty chair at the desk. Sitting across from her, he stared at the ground, struggling for words.

How much of it was her fault? Johann asked himself. She set the Elf on us, but she is trying to make amends.

Of my own trials, were any actually her fault?

“You never had children.” Though he phrased his words as a statement, they were meant as a question.

Astrid was twelve years older than him, and her hair was turning silver, yet she traveled alone. Clearly, she had never found a person with whom she wished to start a proper family, in spite of having fondness for her niece and nephew.

Astrid stared at her hands. They were bare, her ring glinting on the table. “No natural children,” she admitted at last. “Miss Fealy is the closest I dared get to motherhood.

“Jane’s family was from Salem, which I visited in curiosity of the witch trials that occurred there. She lived with her aunt, for her mother had already died. I figured I could offer her well-paying work.

“In time, I found that she was the only person in my house that I trusted. After the death of my husband, only she had kindness to offer.”

Johann nodded, but waited, sensing her reply was not finished.

“I saw what that coven was about, Johann,” she whispered. “Mother wanted a daughter, but not because she wished for a child to dote upon with pretty dresses.

“She saw in me a vessel for her misguided magic. I chose not to have natural children, because I did not wish for the coven to live on through me. I could not bear to think of carrying on their customs—even indirectly.”

“Why?” he interrupted. “You are not an unkind woman. If you had a daughter, if you had a son, I am certain that you would not behave like she did. I see how you interact with Marjorie, whom you’ve only known for a few hours. There is no need for you to condemn yourself, simply because Mother—”

“I’m surprised that you continue to call her that.” Astrid smiled without cheer. “I would have expected you to cast her from your memory, and I would not have blamed you.

“I was there, you know, the night when you were born.” She paused, staring into the dark corner with an expression he could not name. “She didn’t want me to see you, but I was faster. I crept into the nursery where you slept, a small babe in a flimsy cradle. I was happy, because I wanted to know you.”

It was his turn to speak, but words failed him. Astrid had never told him this before, that he had been left alone in a room after birth.

However, it made sense—a fitting beginning to a life of constant loneliness and abandonment.

Except, he had not been completely alone. His half-sister defied Mother’s orders; she went to see him, newborn, pink and vulnerable, and loved him.

“I was sent back up to bed but could not sleep. Inside of me, I had a foreboding—a voice whispering that it was not going to end there, that it shouldn’t. So I did not go to sleep, nor did I change into nightclothes. I waited in a dark room, not daring to turn on the lamp and attract her attention.

“Soon, I heard a side door being opened. I looked out of the window, through the curtain. Though it was dark, I could just make out her outline—and I could hear you. She was carrying you into the forest.

“When she returned, half an hour later, it was without you. I waited until she’d fallen asleep and put on my warmest clothes. I climbed down a useful tree outside of my window, then made for the forest. I walked blindly, except for the small lamp that I did not light until in the protection of the trees.

“I already loved you, and I would not allow you to be devoured by wolves. I didn’t know what I would do when I returned with you, only that I planned to do exactly that.”

Johann realized that, sometime during his sister’s speech, tears had escaped him. Impatiently, he wiped the moisture from his fact, his anger against Mother stronger than ever.

“She had left you underneath a bush,” Astrid continued. “It wasn’t difficult to find you; I could hear you crying. I wrapped you in my cloak and brought you back with me, prepared to face whichever punishment awaited me. I did not care. I knew only that I held in my arms my little brother, and he was cold, and I would not abandon him. I would sooner offer myself to the bears as a meal. I would…”

“Astrid,” Johann choked, “I never did thank you. Even as I was growing up as the indentured servant of Cinder House, you gave me more than you needed to. You and I did laugh together.” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I should’ve written you a note, when I left. I was tired—so tired of chopping wood until I could not walk—of never being given enough to eat, even on holidays.”

“I understand. I even understand why you took the book; you wanted to prove, at least to yourself, that there was power in you. Something Mother never wanted to harness.

“The thing is, I would have gone away with you, if you’d told me of your plans. I was not any happier there than you.”

Johann looked up at the ceiling of the greenhouse. I want to know my sister, he thought. But how do I ask for this? How do I begin making repairs…

Before he could think of a way on his own, Astrid lunged forward and flung her arms around his neck.

He caught her, and all of a sudden, it was as if the past day had not happened at all; it was like the nights they had spent in the cellar, sharing bowls of chocolate and laughing.

He felt his sister sob, heard her choked pleas for forgiveness, and could not harden his heart. He knew that, even if outwardly she had been the ‘favorite child,’ she suffered much in Cinder House.

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Don’t go in the morning. I think that you and I have much to discuss. It’s been…a while.”

He pictured it: himself, only a few hours old, alone in the winter under a rose-bush, and the child Astrid defying their mother’s wishes, gathering him into his arms like a sister should.

He could not cast her from his home—not after having heard that.

“But,” hiccoughed Astrid, “your—your wife—”

“Nina wants you to stay,” he said. “I am certain that’s what she wishes to tell you. She’s probably waiting for you. We could arrange for you to sleep on the sofa downstairs—it is soft—and Marjorie can share her room with Jane.”

Astrid wiped at the tears that remained on her cheeks, turning away.

“I think I will speak to Nina then,” she said, voice breaking, “before we continue casting this charm. She is tired, I am sure. I will not keep her waiting.”

He nodded. “I need to bring her medicine. The fever has not broken yet.”

Astrid looked at him, something sparkling in her eyes. Hope.

It was hope that she would no longer be alone in the world.

The moth continued bashing against the glass jug as Johann and Astrid left the greenhouse.

He sealed the entrance so that nothing could go in or come out. If the not-cat returned before them, he would have to wait outside.

The night had yet to end. It could only continue in the spirit of friendship and forgiveness.