Stepsister by Jennifer Donnelly

Author:Jennifer Donnelly [Donnelly, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471407987
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction
Published: 2019-05-14T18:30:00+00:00

Fifty-Eight

Bette, chewing her cud, blinked her patient brown eyes.

“Good girl, Bette,” Isabelle said, patting the cow’s rump.

She sat down on a low wooden stool, leaned her cheek into the cow’s soft warm side, and started to milk her. Bette’s slow breathing, the rhythmic sound of the milk squirting into the wooden bucket, made a tired Isabelle feel even sleepier. She’d barely closed her eyes during the night. Images of Felix had crowded her brain. His angry words had echoed in her head.

How could he accuse her of breaking his heart, when he had broken hers?

Isabelle's memories dragged her back in time to a place she did not want to go. After their kiss in the Wildwood, when they first realized they were in love, she and Felix had decided to run away. They both knew Maman would never allow them to be together, so they'd made a plan: They would take Nero and Martin and ride to Italy. Felix would find work in Rome, as an apprentice in the studio of a sculptor. Isabelle would spend her days giving riding lessons, and in the evenings, she and Felix would visit the city’s ancient ruins, walking where the Caesars had walked, treading the same roads their armies had marched down.

And when Felix was a sculptor himself, famous and very wealthy, they would travel to Mongolia and race horses with chieftains. Watch eagles hunt in the Russian steppes. Ride camels with the Bedouin. Discover the whole wide wonderful world.

But Maman had found out about their plans. Enraged, she’d fired Felix’s father and sent his family packing. Before they’d left, though, Felix had climbed up the vine to Isabelle’s bedroom window and had sworn that he would come back for her. They would meet in the Wildwood. He needed a few days to help his family find a place to live, he said, and then he would leave a note in the hollow of the linden tree telling her when.

Isabelle had packed a bag and hidden it under her bed. Every night, after Maman had gone to sleep, she’d climbed down the vine and dashed across the yard to the linden tree, hoping to find Felix’s note. But it never came.

Summer gave way to autumn and then winter. Icy winds and deep snow prevented her from stealing out of her room at night, but by then it didn’t matter; she’d given up. Felix had meant the world to her, but she’d meant nothing to him.

How many nights had she cried herself to sleep, with Tavi rocking her? Ella had somehow found out, too. She’d been nicer than ever to Isabelle, but Isabelle, heartsore and miserable, had been nothing but mean in return.

And now Felix was back. Making a slipper for her. Making her think he still cared for her. Holding her and kissing her in the Wildwood, and then behaving as if she were to blame for what had happened. Or hadn’t.

And here she was, distraught and losing sleep over someone who, no matter what he did, or said, still didn’t care enough to tell her why he’d walked away.

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