There hadn't bee a word from her since, seemingly she'd disappeared. Vera worried that Marie might think she wasn't wanted, worried than she might be ill somewhere and unable to contact them.
John told her quite curtly to put Marie from he mind, so she tried to. Vincent was in and out. He'd visited Samara at summer camp in place of Vera, who'd been too nauseated to make the trip. She'd see Samara when she came home at the end of the summer, several weeks before returning to school.
But by the time Samara got home, Vera was in bed recovering from a miscarriage.
"You're young and healthy, there'll be plenty of babies ahead ," Frances assured her.
Vera knew she was right and yet depression lay heavily on her like the blanket of heat hanging over the valley. A part of her insisted the baby had been killed by Hallow House as compensation for Sergei--an eye for an eye. But she never voiced the thought to anyone and strove to push it from her consciousness,
She had John. She loved him as he loved her. Johanna called her mama and Samara sought her company, obviously fond of her stepmother. Vera told herself firmly she had no reason to lie abed and cry. So she got up and focused her attention on Samara.
Samara was still a quiet girl, but her entire appearance had changed in the time she'd been away. She now had an eager, alive look and she smiled often. Though she never would be as dramatically attractive as Sergei had been, she was pretty, with her brown eyes and curling black hair. Best of all, her mind seemed clear of the darkness that had brought Sergei's death.
"What are you interested in," Vera asked her. "What courses do you like best?"
"Literature mostly. I think maybe I'd like to teach."
Vera smiled at her, knowing Samara would never have to earn her living, but not discouraging her from her ambition.
Samara left for school and fall arrived. The household bustled with the picking of apples, peaches and pears and the extra work of preserving them, Additional help came to the outbuilding that held the canning kitchen,
Vera watched amazed. "With all the canned food from the Lobo plants," she asked John, "why must we put preserves away as though our survival depended on them?"
"That's the way it's always been done," he said, which was the end of it. John, she'd learned, had a streak of inflexibility when it came to changing any tradition of Hallow House.
In November, Vera realized with both fear and happiness that she was pregnant again. "What if I lose this one, too?" she said to Frances.
"You won't." Frances sounded so positive that Vera took herself in hand and tried to forget her fears.
By the time Marie returned unexpectedly in February, having hired a car to bring her from the train, Vera was wearing maternity clothes.
"Congratulations, Marie offered with a wry smile. "I hope you'll let me stay for a while. I've run completely out of money and have nowhere else to go." She seemed drained of vitality and looked old despite her smart suit and newly waved hair.
Vera hugged her. "Stay forever if you want. This is your home."
Marie stared at her, an enigmatic expression on her face. Dislike? Envy? But she thanked Vera and settle back into the routine of the house.
"Where's she been?" John asked Vera a few days later.
"She doesn't talk about it. I've asked and Marie just changes the subject. She's drinking quite a lot."
"Do you mind having her here?"
Vera shook her head. "She has nowhere else to go.. We'd be cold-hearted not to take her in."
It wasn't quite a lie. Vera didn't begrudge Marie living in the house, but having her around was a constant reminder of Delores, though Marie seldom mentioned her cousin's name.
"You treat that poor little changeling better than Delores ever would have," Marie had said one day, watching Johanna's efforts to speak. "John, too, as far as that goes. I thought once..." She
John told her quite curtly to put Marie from he mind, so she tried to. Vincent was in and out. He'd visited Samara at summer camp in place of Vera, who'd been too nauseated to make the trip. She'd see Samara when she came home at the end of the summer, several weeks before returning to school.
But by the time Samara got home, Vera was in bed recovering from a miscarriage.
"You're young and healthy, there'll be plenty of babies ahead ," Frances assured her.
Vera knew she was right and yet depression lay heavily on her like the blanket of heat hanging over the valley. A part of her insisted the baby had been killed by Hallow House as compensation for Sergei--an eye for an eye. But she never voiced the thought to anyone and strove to push it from her consciousness,
She had John. She loved him as he loved her. Johanna called her mama and Samara sought her company, obviously fond of her stepmother. Vera told herself firmly she had no reason to lie abed and cry. So she got up and focused her attention on Samara.
Samara was still a quiet girl, but her entire appearance had changed in the time she'd been away. She now had an eager, alive look and she smiled often. Though she never would be as dramatically attractive as Sergei had been, she was pretty, with her brown eyes and curling black hair. Best of all, her mind seemed clear of the darkness that had brought Sergei's death.
"What are you interested in," Vera asked her. "What courses do you like best?"
"Literature mostly. I think maybe I'd like to teach."
Vera smiled at her, knowing Samara would never have to earn her living, but not discouraging her from her ambition.
Samara left for school and fall arrived. The household bustled with the picking of apples, peaches and pears and the extra work of preserving them, Additional help came to the outbuilding that held the canning kitchen,
Vera watched amazed. "With all the canned food from the Lobo plants," she asked John, "why must we put preserves away as though our survival depended on them?"
"That's the way it's always been done," he said, which was the end of it. John, she'd learned, had a streak of inflexibility when it came to changing any tradition of Hallow House.
In November, Vera realized with both fear and happiness that she was pregnant again. "What if I lose this one, too?" she said to Frances.
"You won't." Frances sounded so positive that Vera took herself in hand and tried to forget her fears.
By the time Marie returned unexpectedly in February, having hired a car to bring her from the train, Vera was wearing maternity clothes.
"Congratulations, Marie offered with a wry smile. "I hope you'll let me stay for a while. I've run completely out of money and have nowhere else to go." She seemed drained of vitality and looked old despite her smart suit and newly waved hair.
Vera hugged her. "Stay forever if you want. This is your home."
Marie stared at her, an enigmatic expression on her face. Dislike? Envy? But she thanked Vera and settle back into the routine of the house.
"Where's she been?" John asked Vera a few days later.
"She doesn't talk about it. I've asked and Marie just changes the subject. She's drinking quite a lot."
"Do you mind having her here?"
Vera shook her head. "She has nowhere else to go.. We'd be cold-hearted not to take her in."
It wasn't quite a lie. Vera didn't begrudge Marie living in the house, but having her around was a constant reminder of Delores, though Marie seldom mentioned her cousin's name.
"You treat that poor little changeling better than Delores ever would have," Marie had said one day, watching Johanna's efforts to speak. "John, too, as far as that goes. I thought once..." She
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