Perception ✔

18 Rats & Graves

I often imagined my life as a string of missed opportunities weaved together in a misconstrued narrative.

Because those were what defined us—the chances we regretted not taking.

"He moved." I gasped.

Edmond dragged down the last of the blanket onto the body but didn't look at me. Instead, he watched the dormant corpse below.

"He had a broken neck, ma'am." When his eyes met mine, he nodded toward the body. "You can touch it to see that it's not breathing. It's by luck alone no animal found him."

My teeth chattered despite the summer night. I struggled to move.

"We can put him back," Edmond insisted. "Won't take long for me to get him back up there. Then we call the constable—"

"Help me," I ordered, reaching into the wagon. "I'll get his feet."

It took the two of us to put him in, though I doubted Edmond needed the help. Edmond was a hulking two meters; or there's about.

Still. This was my doing, and my decision.

Our grim task broke through the sweet chatter of the bugs awakening for the early morn. Dried brush scraped us and twigs snapped below our feet. Each disturbance sounded like a million cannons firing, alerting the world to our awful intent. The wet dew below our feet drew my focus rather than the horse blanket in my grip, reeking less so of the animals of its original purpose and more for our dirty deed.

When we reached the riverbank, Edmond was the one stopping. "Wait," he said.

My heart pounded against my ribs so hard my chest ached. Every moment we stood there doing nothing, I told myself this wasn't happening. That I wasn't doing this.

"We can bring him into town," Edmond said. "Present him there. They'll see the broken neck and if you perhaps sell another horse, that would not only cover the cost but feed the house for another year."

But as he spoke, I flung Gareth's legs over the edge. Then I wrestled his upper body from Edmond's arms, so poorly that I nearly slipped down into the water when I tossed him in.

Edmond had to catch me less I got swept away as well.

"Ma'am," he reminded me, "the rocks."

We hadn't put them in Gareth's pockets as I'd thought to. We hadn't done anything. We...I, I hadn't.

A shiver ran through me as I gripped the horse blanket. I'd burn it when we got home, I decided. Not only as a precaution against the illness my now late husband bore, but of any reminder.

The rigid body bobbed for a while then sank. When it surfaced yet again, it was nearly out of view.

Shame pulsed through me.

I'd thrown him away. The only man I'd ever planned to be with. The first person to glance in my direction with such affection I could barely contain my joy. My child's father.

Like so much rubbish, I'd thrown him away.

My breath hitched when I tried to say something, to assure Edmond of my decision. It was only when I looked at him that it occurred to me just how tightly I gripped the man's shirt sleeve. I held on for dear life.

And when the last of Gareth faded, I took the shaky steps needed to turn and make my way out of the brush.

Upon reaching the wagon, I held it with both hands, head hung.

I trembled.

Edmond held my waist, and I awoke from my numbness and allowed him to guide me up into the front seat of the wagon. After Edmond joined me and flicked the reigns, the twin beasts trotted on.