I lingered in the doorway of Miles's bedroom for too long, but I was frozen as I watched them hold their son. For the first time since Briar became sick, Miles had a look of pure joy. Maisie was also smiling, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks. Seeing them together brought back to the memories of Clara and I holding our newborns. My chest ached as I thought about Clara's beautiful face and forced myself to walk down the hallway.

My new grandson was heavy on my mind as I spent the day doing the necessary chores on the farm. I let Miles stay inside to take care of Maisie and their son. I heard Maisie call him Jasper. His cries were strong, and I felt confident he would not become ill like Briar.

When I came back inside, the sun was starting to set. The house was quiet, and all I could hear was the creak of the floor underneath my feet. In the living room, Miles was sitting in the rocking chair. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his dark hair was ruffled. Jasper was in his arms, still wrapped in Clara's knit blanket. Miles did not look up at me. He had a small smile as his attention was focused on his baby.

"How's Maisie?" I asked.

Why was that my first question? Why was I not asking about Jasper? It seemed to slip off my tongue.

"She is sleeping," Miles said. "She is exhausted."

He did not look up when he spoke. I stepped closer to them, and my heart fluttered. Jasper looked just like Miles when he was first born.

"Get some rest," I said. "I can look after the baby."

Miles was silent as he bit down on his lip. I took another step forward. The floor creaked louder than usual, making him finally look at me. I held my arms out, and he let out a deep breath. He stood but hesitated before passing the baby over to me. He watched as I readjusted Jasper's weight in my arms and sat in the rocking chair. I did not look up from Jasper, but in the corner of my eye I could see that Miles had not moved. He continued to watch us for a few extra minutes before leaving the living room.

I rocked Jasper as I whispered to him softly. Clara would have loved this moment. This was always wanted she wanted. Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I took sharp breaths to stop myself from crying as I held my grandson.

–

The next time I saw Maisie, she was coming down the staircase and into the kitchen. Her cheeks still had the full roundness from her pregnancy. The freckles seemed more pronounced on her pale skin. She was wearing Clara's white nightgown, which was now too large for her small frame. Her blonde hair was falling out of her braid. Jasper was in her arms, and I could see her slightly wince with each step she took. Miles pulled out one of the dining room tables and motioned for her to sit.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

She sat, and Miles ran his hand over her hair. He leaned forward so he could have a better look at Jasper.

"I am good," she said. "I love being a mother again."

Miles leaned down to kiss the top of her head before walking toward the stove. We had made some porridge this morning, but much like the cooking I had to do when we forced Maisie to rest, it had very little flavour. Miles set a bowl in front of Maisie, but she did not look up from Jasper.

"You need to eat," he said.

"I will," she said.

Throughout breakfast, all three of us stared at Jasper. Miles had to prompt Maisie a few times to eat, but each time she only took one spoonful of the porridge. It was great to see her so happy again. Hopefully, she keeps herself and the baby healthy.

Miles checked the door multiple times to ensure it was locked when we went outside. Even as we walked toward the barn, he looked over his shoulder at the home.

"They are safe," I told him.

"What if something happens to them while we are out here?" Miles asked. "What if someone tries to hurt them and we don't know?"

"The doors are locked," I said. "We are the only two people who can get inside."

Miles let out a deep breath. He stretched and rolled his shoulders to get rid of the tension in his muscles. He took one last look at our home before stepping into the barn.

"I would kill them before they got close to the house," he said.

My stomach twisted into a knot. Miles said the words so casually, like it was another chore we needed to do on the farm. Neither of us spoke about Bram's death since Miles called me emotional when I refused to help him dismember the body. Even during dinner, none of spoke about the reality of what was on our plates. I clung to a false hope that Miles would not kill again, but it was a fantasy.

–

A month passed, and we felt like a happy family again. Jasper was growing, and there was no issues with his breathing. As each day passed, I became more confident he would survive. Every time I saw Maisie or Miles with their baby, my heart would flutter in my chest. Our home was filled with love again.

There was one thing missing: Clara.

During the middle of the night, I would still reach out to her side of the bed when I woke. My hand would run across the cool sheets, and my heart would sink in my chest as I remembered her violent death. During meals, her empty chair was an awful reminder she was no longer with us. She always wanted Miles to be happy with his own family, and she was unable to witness this. She would have loved Jasper with all of her heart.

While working outside, I would escape to the graveyard we had formed. I placed rocks on Clara and Briar's graves to indicate their resting spots now that the grass had grown over the dirt. I let the body of the intruder that ruined our lives to remain forgotten under the grass.

I sat next to Clara's grave and spoke to her. At first, I felt ridiculous when I told her how much I missed her. When I gave her updates on our family, speaking felt more natural. My eyes burned, but I managed not to cry.

Miles and I usually spent most of the day apart doing chores, so he did not notice me spending time with Clara. Talking to her grave was easier, especially when I was confident no one else could hear me.

One day, I heard the crunch of leaves. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest as I scrambled to get onto my feet. Miles was walking past the trees, and raised a brow when he saw me. His gaze fell to rocks marking the graves, but he said nothing.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked.

"I was looking for you," he said. "What are you doing?"

I cleared my throat as I brushed the dirt off my pants. Did he hear anything I said? He looks confused to see me out here, so I doubt he has seen me speaking to Clara before.

"I was resting," I said. It was not a complete lie. "My knee was bothering me."

"I need your help," he said. "The wall of the chicken coop fell in."

"Did we lose any?"

"Only one. We're down to three now."

I let out a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. I was hoping we would raise enough chickens that we would have meat again, but all we have was a few eggs every day.

Before I could answer, I could hear more crunch of leaves. Miles furrowed his brows as he craned his neck try and locate the noise. There were two voices, which sounded like they were deep in an argument. I looked behind me to see two people walking past the trees.

Why would people be out here? I had not seen anyone on our property since Bram.

When they came closer, I could see it was a man and a woman. They were both young, probably around Miles and Maisie's age. The woman was hastily wiping tears off her face. The man reached toward her a few times, but she swatted his hand away.

"Stop it, John!" she screamed. Her voice was shrill. "I do not want to be near you."

"You need to calm yourself," the man said. "Where do you even plan on going? It is cold. Get back to the carriage."

"I am not getting into the carriage," she said. "You are going to make me look like a fool."

"You are making yourself look like a fool," he said. "Go back to the carriage."

"Why? You need to tell me more about your affair? How could you do that? Sue is my cousin!"

My eyes widened as I listened to them fight. Miles took a step forward, but I raised my arm. His chest touched my arm, and he stopped. I glanced at him when I watched him pulling the knife out of his pocket. He was going to murder them.

The woman heard our movement and looked in our direction. She took in a sharp breath and wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks. John grabbed her arm, but she shook him off. She picked up the front of her skirt and rushed toward us.

"Emma!" John shouted. "Emma! What are you doing?"

Emma smiled, but I could see her lips quiver. Was she coming to us thinking we would be her safe haven? John chased after her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back, causing her to stumble.

"We need to leave," he said.

"Hello," Emma said to us as she tried to pull away from John. "I need your help. I was wondering if you could bring me back into town?"

"Into town?" John asked. "Where do you plan on going?"

"I will stay with my aunt," she snapped.

Miles stepped forward, pushing past my arm. Both of them continued to argue, so neither saw the blade at his side. He said nothing as he reached forward and grabbed Emma's arm. He easily ripped her away from John. She let out a yelp, which turned into a scream when Miles plunged the knife into her chest.

A string of curse words left John's mouth as his eyes widened. The colour drained from his face as he watched the blood coat the front of Emma's coat. There was no attempt to save her before he started running. His panic must have clouded his mind because he did not turn and run back to his carriage. I watched him run and weave through the trees, but he was heading toward our home.

Miles ripped the blade out of Emma's chest, letting her collapsed onto the ground. Her breathing was rattled as she tried to cling to life. She crawled forward, but her movements were slow. Her blood was coating the leaves underneath her body.

"Kill her," Miles said. "I need to get the other one."

"Kill her?" I asked. "I am not killing anyone."

Miles scoffed as he stepped back. Emma lost even more strength. Her arms were stretched forward, but she was not able to crawl forward any farther.

"Make sure she stays here," Miles said. "I will deal with her after."

He turned and ran toward our home. The bloody knife remained in his hand as he chased after John.

Emma's cries were a weak and pathetic noise. Unable to pull herself forward, she shook her shoulders in an attempt to continue her crawl. She was going to die, and she definitely was not going to get much further.

I sat next to Clara's grave again, and I rubbed my hand along my temple. Emma coughed and spurtered for breath.

"Clara, I thought this was going to stop," I said. "I told you that Miles had killed a few people to protect the family, but I think this will keep happening."

I ran my fingers over the grass below the rock, much like how I would run my fingers through her hair.

"We always knew he was different," I said. "He means good, but he struggles. Ever since you died, he has hated all outsiders. I cannot really blame him. I miss you so much, Clara. He will never let something so terrible ever happen again to us. He loves our family so much. If you saw him with our grandson, you would be so proud."

I continued to speak to Clara's grave to calm the anxiety running through my veins. Speaking calmed my mind, and allowed me to excuse Miles murdering two people.