Chapter 2

The next few days were colder than usual in the Blackwood mansion. Ethan avoided me, his hostility a silent, heavy blanket. Richard was distant, preoccupied. He acted as if our conversation never happened. I started packing my few belongings into a single duffel bag. Not much to show for eight years. One afternoon, I heard a crash from Ethan’s room. I rushed in. He stood over a small, shattered porcelain horse. It was a cheap thing I’d bought at a county fair years ago, a small piece of Montana I’d kept. “What happened?” I asked, my voice tight. Ethan glared at me. “This was Mommy’s favorite. You shouldn’t have it.” My heart ached. “Ethan, that wasn’t your mother’s. That was mine.” “Liar!” he screamed. “You’re always trying to take her things!” He kicked at the broken pieces. Richard walked in then. He took in the scene. Ethan’s tear-streaked face. The shattered horse. Me. “What’s this?” Richard’s voice was tired. “She broke Mommy’s horse!” Ethan cried, running to his father. Richard looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Sarah, you know how he feels about Eleanor’s things.” He didn’t even ask. He just assumed. “It wasn’t Eleanor’s,” I said quietly. “It was mine.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Just clean it up. And try to be more careful.” My dog, Buddy, was my only comfort. A scruffy terrier mix I’d brought with me from Montana. He was old now, but his tail still wagged when he saw me. A few days later, Buddy didn’t greet me at the door when I came in from a walk. I found him in the garden. He was lying still. Too still. Ethan stood nearby, holding a new, expensive-looking pellet gun. His face was pale. “I… I didn’t mean to,” he stammered. “He ran out… I was aiming at a can.” Tears streamed down my face. I knelt beside Buddy, my Buddy. Richard came out. He saw me, saw Ethan, saw Buddy. His face hardened. “Ethan, go inside,” he said, his voice tight. When Ethan was gone, Richard looked at me. There was no sympathy in his eyes. “It was an accident, Sarah.” “He killed my dog, Richard.” My voice was choked. “Ethan is distraught. He loved that dog too, in his own way.” I stared at him, disbelief warring with a cold, familiar ache. “Your duties are to Ethan. See to him. He’s very upset.” He turned and walked back into the house, leaving me alone with my grief. The world felt empty.