It must have been around lunchtime when Ananias joined us. He carried a small wooden object in one hand and a bowl of water in the other.
“I’m not thirsty,” I said.
“It’s not to drink.”
He placed the bowl on the floor beside Father’s bunk. Then, with a flick of the wrist, he opened up the wooden object. A razor-sharp blade emerged.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He studied Father’s face. “Shaving him. At least, I was going to, but it can wait until he’s up again.” He gave the razor to me handle first. “For now, you can shave me.”
The razor felt surprisingly light in my hand. “Whose is it?”
“Kell’s.”
“So why don’t you get him to shave you?”
“Kell?” Ananias raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stupid enough to let him near me with a blade. His idea of fun is shooting birds with a bow and arrow. I’d hate to think what he might do to my neck . . . especially after Dennis’s adventure this morning.”
The blade was so clean and shiny that I caught a little of my reflection in it. It was the first time I’d seen myself in days. My face was bruised, just like Alice’s. I had a thin coating of stubble, just like Ananias. I looked older than before.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve made things difficult for everyone.”
Ananias nodded. “Well, I’m sorry for what I said to you. I panicked. I was scared about being thrown out of the colony. I was scared for Father. For all of us.”
He pulled a small tub from his pocket and popped the lid off. Once he’d splashed water on his face, he took a glob of the stuff inside and smeared it across his cheeks, chin, and neck. “Kell says this helps.”
“What’s it made of?”
“I don’t know. Don’t want to know, either. Anything that smells this bad can’t be good.”
Usually we’d have smiled at that. Now it just melted the ice a little.
“So start,” said Ananias.
“Start what?”
“Shaving me. And telling me what’s really going on in Sumter.”
He clamped his mouth shut and waited. I didn’t know where to begin. Rose and I had made a mistake and paid for it. Shouldn’t we be looking forward, not back?
“I trust you, Thomas,” murmured Ananias. “You’re the reason I’m still alive, remember? So please, help me understand what’s going on here.”
The words poured out of me then. Over several careful blade strokes, I told him how we’d boarded the ship and found Jerren there. I mentioned Jerren and Kell’s rivalry, and the gunroom.
Ananias didn’t speak at all, or move, or even blink. His breathing was steady. I wanted him to have questions, if only so that I’d know he wasn’t as anxious as me. But even when I’d finished shaving him, his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
I rinsed the razor in the bowl and handed it to him.
“You haven’t got much to shave,” he said.
“No. But something tells me you’ve got something to say as well.”
We were both holding the razor now. Finally, Ananias gave a slow nod.
I washed my face and applied the goo just as he had done. Then I sat perfectly still before him and watched flashes of lamplight reflected in the blade.
He didn’t speak for the first couple sweeps. The blade scraped down my cheek. He rinsed it and started again. “It’s Eleanor,” he said finally.
Another sweep, this time all the way to my chin. He was shaking. I felt it in every tiny vibration. His eyes filled with tears.
My instinct was to say something reassuring, but I couldn’t move with the blade against me. This was the way he wanted it too. Ananias didn’t want any interruptions.
“I don’t know what happened the night she fell,” he continued. “When I climbed the mast, I thought she was still on the ladder. But when I got to the top, she was out of reach, hanging from the rope.”
Another rinse. Slow and methodical. Something to distract him from what he had to say.
“I made a flame. I needed to see her face clearly, and I wanted her to see me too. I thought, even with everything that had happened to us, it would reassure her. But the look in her eyes . . .” He pulled the blade away from my neck and exhaled deeply. “It was like she’d never seen me before. She was frightened of me, I think. Truly frightened.”
Ananias eased my chin up so that he could reach the curve of my neck. I swallowed hard.
“Then Alice joined us. I stopped the flame because I thought I might be able to grab Eleanor, and I needed both hands for that. But when my eyes adjusted to the darkness again . . .” He blinked, sending a stream of tears down his face. “I figured that seeing Alice would calm Eleanor down. But it didn’t. The way she was looking at us . . .” Ananias wasn’t even watching me anymore, but the razor still continued its course. “Eleanor didn’t fall, Thomas. She jumped.”
I flinched. The blade stopped moving, a sudden adjustment that nicked my skin. I felt the coolness of it, then the heat of blood rushing to the surface.
Ananias lifted the razor and held it in front of him. The blade was tinged with red. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I . . . I’m—”
The door creaked opened. I hadn’t heard anyone outside, and the timing of the arrival felt too convenient to be an accident.
It was Rose. She padded over to us and took the blade from Ananias. He didn’t try to stop her. And once he was free of the burden, he seemed to awake from a trance.
He left without a word.
Beside us, my father didn’t stir.
Rose dabbed the sleeve of her tunic in the water and cleaned blood from the cut.
“You were listening, weren’t you?” I asked.
She nodded. Blade ready, she continued what Ananias had started. Her strokes were calm and steady, but I could see in her expression that his news had shaken her up just as much as me.
“Ever since we got to Sumter, Alice has been so quiet,” said Rose. “So lost. We should’ve been there for her, Thomas.” She removed the razor and rinsed it.
“I thought she was grieving.”
“Sure she was. But I don’t think that’s why I’ve been staying away from her.” She ran the blade over my cheek one last time. “I’ve spent so long seeing her as a rival . . . it just never occurred to me that she might need my help. My friendship.”
Rose rubbed the remaining goo off my face with her sleeve. My skin felt even more alive at her touch than it had earlier.
“Do you think Eleanor really jumped?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But Alice clearly thinks so. That’s probably why she was arguing with Tarn last night—she’s looking for answers again. And I don’t think she’s getting them.” She finished cleaning the blade and handed it to me.
“Talking of answers, have you spoken to Dennis yet?”
“No. He’s closely guarded. It’ll be a while before I can get him alone.” She rolled up the sleeves of her tunic. “Your turn now.”
“To do what?”
“Cut my hair.”
I was about to fold the blade away when she stopped me.
“I’m serious, Thomas. I want it gone.” Her hand rested on mine. My pulse was growing faster, but she refused to let the pain show. The fierceness of her expression reminded me of someone else in our colony.
“Just because Alice has changed, doesn’t mean you need to take her place, Rose.”
“I’ve lost my father. My mother hates me. I betrayed my brother. This isn’t about becoming Alice. It’s about not being me anymore.” She gave a tired sigh. “If this is our new home, then let it feel new to me. Give me the chance to be who I want to be, not who I was.”
She let go of my hand then, but her eyes remained fixed on me. She was imploring me to do this, to be the one person she could still count on.
I liked Rose’s hair. But I loved Rose. So I tugged the blade through the blond locks until the uneven strands fell tight against her neck.