Her eyes were closed, the wind whipping her hair about her face and head. It was terrifying, and beautiful. Her gut clenched, and her fingers uncurled from the bars of the balcony. She barely felt the rush of air, cool on her tear-stained cheeks. Didn’t open her eyes to watch the world rush up to grab her.
Her heart ached. Her sister was a corpse in the ground, her nephew dead before he’d even been born. Charles, Lucy’s husband, had named the boy Alexander James Carpenter.
“I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand, Elizabeth... How did Lucy get so sick? How?” Pale fingers clutched her shoulders, digging in through the fabric of her dress. “I don’t understand...” Dark eyes overflowed, spilling anguished tears down his cheeks.
She hadn’t been able to answer.
It was all her fault. And now Lucy was dead. And the ground caught her.
It was the day she learned that she could never follow in her sister’s footsteps.