The Family Origin

Chapter Twenty-Eight: MAISIE POV

The quiet house was a haunting cage. The farmhouse was large and hollow while Miles and Joseph were outside. I was tempted to go outside so I would not be alone, but the locks forced me to stay inside. Yesterday's events would not leave my mind, and guilt sat heavy in my chest. I tried to control my emotions, but by the end of the day, I was reduced to tears. I tried to stop sobbing before they came inside, but I was unsuccessful. Miles comforted me, and Joseph said he would speak to a midwife. It eased enough of the tension in my muscles that I could stop crying and finish dinner.

Joseph stumbled upstairs after we ate. The stench of alcohol clung to his breath and clothes. While I was cleaning the counters, Miles searched through the cupboards and pulled out Joseph's whiskey bottles before pouring them down the drain. He pushed the empty bottles across the counter and lined them up against the wall. I wiped my hands on the dish rag while Miles once again checked to verify the door was locked.

"Why was the door unlocked yesterday?" I asked.

Miles had refused to answer the question that would not leave my mind. I had not tried asking Joseph because I was sure his answer would be a drunken ramble. Miles let out a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Why did you never tell me it was unlocked?" I asked. "Had it been unlocked for long?"

"Maisie, stop asking questions," Miles said. His voice was cold, causing chills to run through my body. "No more questions. I do not want you questioning me again. You need to trust that I am keeping you and our baby safe."

"But-"

"No," Miles cut me off. He held his hand out to emphasize I needed to stop speaking, and I stayed silent. Despite knowing he would not hurt me, his size was still intimidating. "I said no more questions, and you are not listening. Now, go upstairs."

I bit my lip. Miles was adamant that he would not answer any of my questions tonight, and continuing to ask would only increase his anger. I lowered my gaze to my stomach. The small flutters of our baby moving had been present since I started washing the dishes. Feeling the baby moving was comforting. If she could move, she was not harmed.

I followed Miles's request and went upstairs to our bedroom without arguing. I turned on the oil lamp to provide the room with a faint glow. My back and feet ached, so I laid on the bed without changing my clothes or pulling back the blankets. The pillows were stacked behind my shoulders and head. I wiggled my sore and swollen toes as I ran my hand over my stomach. Closing my eyes, I focused on the baby's movements.

I had my own little daughter inside of me.

Briar.

I prayed that Clara's prediction was correct.

Miles stayed downstairs longer than I anticipated. The thin walls of the home let me hear him move around downstairs, and it sounded like he was moving between the kitchen and the living room. I listened for Joseph, sometimes I could hear his loud snoring during the night, but he was silent. Would he ever be able to cope with Clara's violent death?

I did not move from the bed when Miles came into our bedroom. He slammed the door shut, and said nothing as he walked toward the window. Shadows danced across his face from the flickering flame in the oil lamp. His typical blank expression remained, but he ran his hand along his jaw. A few minutes passed, and he said nothing while staring out the window.

"Miles, you need to get some rest," I said.

"I cannot sleep," he said.

"You cannot stay awake all night."

I expected him to either glare in my direction or tell me to be quiet, but neither happened. He continued to stare out the window. His hand was no longer running across his jaw. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes while staring at the dark farm.

I wanted to ask him the many questions running through my mind, but he had no interest in giving me answers. Making Miles angry was not going to benefit either of us. I stayed on the bed and rubbed my stomach. Our baby's small flutters had calmed. I stayed silent, my eyelids heavy, while I waited for him to speak.

"No one will ever do this again," Miles said.

His words were low, like he was speaking to himself. I did not ask for any clarification and watched as he chewed on his bottom lip. Was his unreadable expression finally cracking and turning into a look of worry? Over the past few months, he started to show signs of happiness but never let me see any of his anxiety.

"No one is ever coming into this house again," he said. "No one is even going to make it onto the property."

Miles sucked in a big breath. He pushed his shoulders back to make himself look larger.

"No one will ever hurt this family again," he said.

Images of Miles on top of the intruder flashed through my mind. Without any hesitation, he killed that man. I lost count of how many times he stabbed the man with his own pocket knife. Would he kill someone again? How low was his threshold for murder?

"Miles, can you please lay down with me?" I asked.

It was a question, but I took the risk. When he looked at me, it was not a cold glare. The anxiety melted off his face as he returned to his usual unreadable expression. He dragged his feet over to the bed and laid next to me on his side. He placed his hand on my stomach, and our baby's movements returned. The small flutters became even stronger. A small smile formed on his lips as he closed his eyes.

"I will never lose either of you," Miles said. "You will both always be safe."

The baby's movements matched with Miles's words caused warmth to spread throughout my body. Calmness overtook all of my tense nerves. Even after such a terrible event, he could make me feel so safe and loved.

"Thank you," I said.

Miles let out a deep breath. The tension left his muscles, but he did not open his eyes or move his hand off my stomach.

"I'll do anything to keep you safe," he said. His words turned into a soft mumble. He was already succumbing to his own exhaustion. "Everything is to protect you."

I watched as Miles's breathing turned deep and rhythmic. He was able to fall asleep, and I tried my best not to move. I did not want to wake him because I was unsure if he could fall asleep again tonight. Our baby's movements calmed, and I stared at Miles until I was able to fall asleep.