When I opened my eyes the next morning I was surprised to find Hannah lying on the bedding, fully dressed, her face pale, but smiling.
“You seem so happy when you sleep,” Hannah said.
“Do I? Frankly, I’m not feeling the most gay right now. Good grief, did you knit a cape for my tongue this morning and put it on?”
She laughed. “We drank too much.”
“Aye, that we did.” My voice was as low as a man’s and raspy.
“A strong cup of coffee cured me of feeling like my tongue was as fuzzy as wool.” She pulled a cup and saucer from the nightstand and carefully handed me the aromatic, heavenly brew. I noticed she had poured my cup of coffee into my mother’s finest bone china with the little painted details of an English garden bordering the tips of the porcelain. It was the sole reminder that my mother had once lived in very different circumstances. It was rich, decadent, and usually hidden. I briefly wondered about the cup, but my head throbbed, making any coherent thought incredibly difficult.
I sipped the perfect cup of coffee. “Ah, Hannah, it’s so good, but sugar and cream? I’m not sure we can afford this.”
“Oh, Violet. Relish the moment for what it’s worth. What’s that saying? It’s French. Um, carpe diem?”
“Exactly, carpe diem—to enjoy while one can. But I believe it’s Latin.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “You believe?”
“All right, I know it’s Latin and was first written by Horace. Happy?”
Hannah quietly chuckled. “Perfectly.”
I sighed, thinking about my day and began to groan. “Oh, I have so much work today.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’m going to plow the rest of the field, then I might sow a little of the oat seeds. ‘Tis so early this year, but—”
“It’s the beginning of April. Don’t you usually get to planting by now?”
“Not usually, not until later in April, often May. I’d risk too many frosts and snow if I planted earlier, but perhaps not this year.”
“Perhaps this will be the most fruitful year in a long time.” Hannah’s face oddly paled even more, and it seemed she struggled with her grin.
It chipped away at my heart to watch my sister’s face try to act so happy when I could clearly see something else. I had to get her to laugh again. “That sounded dreadfully like a toast. We toasted too many times last night.”
My sister’s sweet face made yet another attempt at a wide grin, but instead she appeared either disgusted or . . . heart-broken. I should have asked which, but, heaven help me, I wanted to run from the constant anxiety I’d been feeling since . . . since—
When I glanced at Hannah, at the shadows under her eyes, her blue eyes turned gray, it was like watching a young sparrow in a blizzard. As much as I wanted to do something for the tiny shivering form, I wasn’t sure what I could do, but moreover if anything would help.
Powerless and angry at my inability, I struggled to get out of bed. “I’d better get to work.”
Suddenly Hannah embraced me, hard.
“I’ve never told you,” she said in my ear, “at least never told you enough, how I love you, how I think you’re the most beautiful woman, how I love your strong spirit. Violet, listen to your heart, please, for me, do this?”
I swallowed and nodded as I wrapped my arms around her thin neck. “Of course, Hannah, of course. Thank you for the compliments, but I haven’t told you enough how beautiful you are.”
She pulled away from me, yet clung to my arms.
I couldn’t stand the bleakness in her expression, so I babbled. “You, why, you are the reason why men created myths like Helen of Troy. Because of you, women like you. You are perfect. And the fact that you are so talented. Ah! It puts the rest of us women to shame.”
Her smile jerked into place. “Good grief, Violet, but you can get so sentimental. I had no idea.” Hannah’s voice cracked through her own smile, tears standing in her eyes.
She gave me one more squeeze around my arms.
I wish I’d have clung to her. I wish I could have stayed in that moment. To give her one more laugh at my expense or to just stay and watch her lovely face, so full of pain, give me one more crooked smile. But I left, and never had that instant back.