Sully flinched, just a fraction, but I saw it.
“He’s not the devil, Da. He’s Sully.” My voice broke, but I made it loud. “I’d rather go with him than stay here with a heart full of regret.”
A slow, bitter smile curled Da’s mouth. “Then go, Catherine. And take your ghost with you. But don’t come running back when the English find you, or worse.”
I wanted to shout back, to say something cruel or clever, but the words wouldn’t form. My mother reached for my hand, her fingers cold and papery. “At least wait for your sisters,” she pleaded. “Maeve and Nora would want to say goodbye.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll wait. For them.”
Sully looked at me, something like pain in his eyes. I wondered if he could feel the weight I carried, the stone lodged in my chest.
Angus stood, grabbed his coat, and stalked to the door. “You’re dead to me,” he said, not looking back. The door slammed, the noise shaking the cups on the table.
For a while, we just sat there, the three of us, staring at the honey jar and the crusts of bread.
Mother broke the silence first, voice barely a whisper. “You could do worse, Catherine. At least he came back for you.”
I smiled, a thin thing. “He always does.”
Sully squeezed my hand under the table. “I won’t leave you again,” he said, quiet but fierce.
I nodded, but the stone in my chest didn’t budge. I wondered how long before the world outside would notice we were already gone.
We spent the day like the condemned: in silence, every word weighed and found wanting. I did the wash, hung it on the line, then took it down again when the rain started. My mother rolled dough for supper, shoulders hunched, lips pressed together so tight they went white. Sully kept to the garden, digging up last year’s potatoes with his bare hands, coming in caked with mud and shivering. I watched him through the window, the way he moved in the rain—purposeful, like nothing in the world could touch him if he just kept working.
By late afternoon, the wind picked up, blowing cold off the bog. I brought in the wash, hands stinging, and found the kitchen thick with the smell of yeast and something burning. Sully sat at the table, arms crossed, dirt under every nail. He gave me a look, and for the first time, I saw the fear behind it. I wanted to tell him it would be alright, that we’d find a way, but there was nothing in the world less convincing than hope.
The door rattled. Not a knock—just the gust, mean and insistent. But we all looked up, hearts in our throats. Sully rose, eyes on the latch. I shook my head, silent, and motioned him to sit.
Mother set the bread on the sill to cool, then sat beside Sully, fussing with his sleeve, straightening the collar, her hands neverstill. I wanted to scream at her to stop, that he was leaving soon anyway, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her crying again.
For a long while, we listened to the wind, the hiss of rain on peat, the muffled sounds of the world carrying on outside our four walls.
It was Mother who saw them first. She peered through the warped glass, then flinched away like she’d touched a live wire.
“They’re coming,” she whispered. “The soldiers.”
I rushed to her side. In the grey distance, a line of red jackets, rifles slung at their backs. They fanned out across the lane, moving slow but steady, checking each door.
Angus appeared behind us, no warning at all, just his breath on my neck and his hands clutching my shoulders. “How many?” he said, voice like gravel.
“Four, maybe five,” I answered.
He grunted. “They’ll search every house. Looking for rebels… or worse.”
Mother’s hands shook. “Should we hide him? Under the floor?”
Angus shook his head, jaw set. “They’ll find him. Best to meet it with pride.”
Sully stood. For the first time, I saw how big he really was. The jacket made him broader, and the jeans gave him height. He could break every man in that patrol, but if he tried, they’d torch the farm and kill us all.
He moved between me and the door, steady as a rock. My mother saw it, too. The way he braced himself, shoulders squared, as if nothing mattered but keeping us safe.
Angus noticed, and something broke in his face. All the anger, all the fear, drained out, leaving just a tired sadness. “They’ve been taking young women,” he said, low. “They say it’s for questioning, but none come back. If you go, Catherine, it’s the only way you live.”
I stared at him, waiting for the lecture, the guilt. Instead, he just looked at me, eyes rimmed red. “You can protect her better than I can now,” he said to Sully. “Promise me you will.”
Sully nodded, once. “With my life.”