for long and occasionally disturbing reading. What about yourself? How are you finding your new residence?”
Grace thought for a moment, aware that she could never verbalize the feeling of safety that enveloped her as she slept, the ease of companionship she found even among those who could only stare blankly. “I am content,” she said.
“Ah, contentment,” Thornhollow said. “A wholly underrated feeling.” His suddenly blank gaze was drawn back to the floor. “Go to bed, Grace. I’ll wake you if there’s a murder.”
EIGHTEEN
There was no murder. Not that night, or any of the following. Days stretched into weeks, the fine webbing of skin that knit itself into scar tissue on Grace’s temples softening into a smoothness that her fingers sought out for comfort or while in thought. As a child she had sucked her thumb, and the habit had been hard to break. Her mother had scolded her about ruining the shape of her mouth, but the threats of the future had been nothing against the terror of the present, and young Grace had found solace in the action while harsh words crept down the hallway from her parents’ room.
In truth, she could easily resort to sucking her thumb again, Grace thought while helping Nell in the garden. No one in the asylum would care at all, shape of her mouth be damned. But touching the smooth flesh of her scars brought its own kind of comfort, and the movement itself became an involuntary action when she was deep in thought. The doctor had noticed during their weekly lessons and hadn’t discouraged it.
“The movement may help you recover information,” he’d said, the third time her hands had gone to her temples the night before.
“What?” Grace jerked her hands down, distracted. The chalkboard had been cloudy with words: new theories vied for space against old ones, with Thornhollow’s opinions sprinkled liberally between them.
“Touching your scars,” he explained. “If you perform an action while learning something, re-creating the action may help you recall it later.”
Her fingers went to them again as she worked beside Nell, heedless of the dirt on her hands. Visually she could recall scenes in intricate detail, but to catalog theories and counterarguments as to their usefulness was a different animal altogether, and she wanted to tame it.
“Sometimes I can’t keep me ’ands off meself, either, though I’m not usually ’avin’ a go at me own ’ead,” Nell said, playfully bumping hips with Grace.
Grace pushed back gently, winning a smile from the Irish girl. “You’ve gone an’ muddied up that nice skin of yours,” Nell chided, licking her own thumb and rubbing Grace’s face clean. “Don’t want a pretty lass like ye lookin’ like a field hand when your doctor comes around.”
Grace grimaced at Nell and shook her head, yanking at a weed with more force than necessary.
“Dinna worry yerself about it,” Nell said, shaking off the wordless chiding. “Anybody that’s been around the two of ye fer more than five minutes knows there’s nothing between yer bodies. It’s yer own minds that ye each find so fascinatin’, odd as that is.”
Even though there was truth to what the other girl said, Grace still wore a frown as she worked next to Nell, the early autumn weather bringing a sheen of sweat to her forehead. It was true that she and the doctor had learned each other’s minds thoroughly, each complementing the other’s weaknesses with their own strengths. But their efforts were for nothing if she never got the chance to apply everything she’d learned. Grace dug her boot heel into the ground against a stubborn weed as she told herself yet again that her wish for relief from boredom through the death of a stranger was the most selfish of sins.
Yet it was there, and she couldn’t deny it. She itched to put herself to use on something more complicated than punching bread dough with Elizabeth or harvesting alongside Nell.
“There now, ye’ve gone and yanked up me leeks, ye mad thing.” Nell salvaged the vegetable from the pile of refuse mounting behind them, but her touch was gentle as she pushed Grace’s shoulder. “No ’arm done. We’ll stick ’im back in the ground and no one the wiser.”
Nell replanted the leek, but the smile slipped from her face when she straightened up, and her hands went to her back. Grace had seen her friend struggle before in small moments when she thought no one would notice, as the disease that had brought her to the asylum began to