My instincts told me that Miles had brought Oliver's body to the barn. I should have spoken to him when he came inside, but I was distracted by Maisie. She had not cried and screamed like I anticipated. Her calmness when she placed her head on my chest was shocking, and I was unsure where to place my hands. Her body seemed even smaller and more fragile. Had she been losing weight? What would happen if she became ill?

When Miles came inside, I panicked and pushed Maisie off me. I was unsure how he would react if he saw us so close in an intimate way. Luckily, he saw nothing and I hurried out of the house.

I was correct about Oliver's body being in the barn. When I opened the door, the metallic scent of blood filled my nose. There was no attempt to hide Oliver, and he was crumpled in the middle of the floor. A few flies buzzed around his body. We needed to bury him before the pests got worse.

Stepping closer, I could see the brutality of Miles's attack. Oliver was laying in a pool of blood, and his clothes were soaked with the sticky wet crimson. I was unable to count how many stab wounds littered his body. His face was a mess of deep slashes crisscrossing his skin. Miles made him suffer before he took his life.

I stopped moving when my stomach twisted into a tight knot. I stood and watched my son do this without intervening, but this had to happen. If the Thatchers stayed away from our home, neither of them would be dead. They came here with the intentions of hurting our family, and there was consequences. We had to protect ourselves.

"Go inside."

I looked over my shoulder to see Miles walking into the barn. He had cleaned the blood off his skin and changed into clean clothes. How long had I been staring at Oliver? It felt like only a few minutes, but it must have been much longer.

"Go inside?" I asked. "We need to bury him quickly."

"I am not going to bury him," he said.

I raised a brow as Miles came closer to the body. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at Oliver. His face was his usual blank expression.

"You do not want to bury him?" I asked. "The flies are going to be terrible in a few hours."

"There are better ways to hide the body," he said.

"What do you plan on doing?"

"I will burn it."

"That is going to smell horrible."

"That is why you need to go inside."

Miles did not move as he stared at Oliver. No flicker of emotion crossed his face, and I was unable to understand what he was thinking. If he wanted to burn the body, there was no way for me to change his mind. Selfishly, I would be happy to stay away from the disgusting smell of burning flesh.

"The Rules are the same," I said. "If you are starting a fire, bring two buckets of water."

"Will do," he said.

I turned and walked toward the door, pleased to escape the metallic smell of blood. I was also not going to complain about not having to dig a grave today. When I got to the barn door, I glanced over my shoulder to see Miles grab a saw. Was he going to cut the body into pieces to make it easier to burn? I shuddered at the thought as I walked toward the house.

Maisie was in the kitchen. Her head hung low as she was peeling vegetables. She did not look up at me as I walked in, and I assumed she must have been embarrassed by how she laid against me on the couch. Not wanting to upset her further, I went down the hallway and into the living room. I grabbed my novel and sat in the rocking chair. Through the window, I could see Oliver's carriage in front of our home. We would have to find a way to dispose of the carriage, but I did not want to go outside in the disgusting smell.

I was unable to focus on reading because of the carriage. Would people think we killed Oliver? He told us that no one knew he had come to our home, but was he telling the truth?

The more the questions raced in my mind, the more I craved a drink of whiskey. We had not been able to afford a bottle in weeks, and Miles said we would never waste money of alcohol again. To calm my thinking, I stood and tore my attention away from the carriage and went up the staircase. I shuffled my feet into my bedroom before laying across the bed and closing my eyes. Somehow, despite all of the questions and worries, I fell asleep.

–

When I woke, the room was flooded with darkness. I rolled onto my side and grabbed the clock off the bedside table. In the moonlight, I could see it was late in the evening, and I had slept for hours. I rubbed my eyes as I pushed myself up so that I was sitting on the bed. The horrible stench of flesh did not hang in the air. Instead, it was replaced by something much more pleasant. My stomach grumbles at the memory of the delicious dinners Clara used to cook. This had to be some kind of dream.

When I opened the bedroom door, the delicious smell was more intense. My empty stomach ached, and my mouth watered. I followed the scent down into the kitchen. Once I was at the bottom of the staircase, my body froze as I took in the scene.

Our meals had been miserable affairs, consisting only of vegetables and potatoes. The new delicious smell came from a roast Maisie was placing on the table. A few candles were spread across the table to provide the dining room with a dim glow. Bowls of potatoes and vegetables were sitting on either side of the roast. Miles was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Maisie.

"What is happening?" I asked.

Maisie turned but refused to look at me. Her attention went straight to Miles as she chewed on her lip and walked toward the sink. Was she still embarrassed about how she laid her head against my chest earlier? Did she tell Miles about what had happened?

"I went into town," Miles said. "It was the end of the day, so the butcher gave me a good price."

"A good price?" I asked. "No price is a good enough price. We have nothing."

"Oliver had money on him," Miles said. "I also took his watch and ring. We can sell it next time. We will be able to eat for a while."

Maisie kept her head down as she straightened the random objects on the counter. It was almost like watching Clara nervously clean the counter with a rag. Miles noticed me watching Maisie and uncrossed his arms before standing straighter.

"We should eat before it gets cold," he said.

My stomach grumbled, and I was not going to argue. Of course, Miles checked Oliver's pockets before burning his body. He was also hungry, so he probably raced into town to buy meat. He must have also been tired of our short tempers and fighting.

Miles and I sat at the table, but Maisie lingered by the counter. Reaching forward, Miles cut a piece of the roast before placing it on Maisie's plate. She remained fiddling with dirty dishes while he piled her plate full of food.

"Maisie, sit down and eat," Miles said.

She let out a deep breath and ran her hand over her hair before turning around. Her eyes stayed casted down as she walked toward the table. I placed slices of the roast onto my plate. Being closer made me realize that the smell was bit different than what Clara and Maisie would cook, but it was weeks since we had any meat. My memories must have been distorted.

A small smile formed on my lips as I cut a piece of the meat, eager to fill my stomach again. The roast was much chewier than I anticipated, and there was a taste I could not identify—a sweetness that I did not recognize. I furrowed my brows as I took another look at the roast. The meat was dark, so I assumed it was either beef or pork.

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"From the butcher," Miles said. "He gave me a deal."

"It is not a great cut of meat," I said.

"I said I got a deal."

His voice had a cold edge. Was he annoyed that I was not more appreciative? It may not have been great, but it was meat. We would no longer be hungry.

When I looked at Maisie, I could see the slight tremble in her hands. She cut the meat on her plate into tiny pieces before taking a small bite. By the way her face contorted and her eyes closed, I could tell she was also struggling to chew the tough roast. Miles looked unphased as he shovelled the food into his mouth.

We all ate in silence as we enjoyed a proper meal together again.