it from her without meeting her eyes, even though I could sense them on me. It was only when she reached Pa that I dared to glance at her face. Matilda had been right. Nanna Ellen looked as if she had aged in the past few days; her skin was pale and gray, devoid of the shine normally blossoming at her cheeks. The strands of blond hair that poked out from around the scarf appeared dry and brittle. She tried to tuck them back under the scarf, but they fell back out, dangling over her face.
“You don’t seem well, Ellen. Do you need to rest?” Ma said from across the table as she dabbed Richard’s cheeks with a napkin.
Nanna Ellen offered a weak smile. “I believe I picked up a cold, is all. I’ll be okay. I’ll lie down after dinner and nip it in the bud. I’ve never been one to let some illness hold me down.”
Thoughts of her bed popped back into my mind, the little worms and maggots sifting through the dirt. I could picture her lying on top of it all, her deep gray eyes wide open in a blank stare as these earth creatures slowly fed on her flesh. The leech bites across my arms began to itch, and I fought the urge to scratch at them. One was visible at my wrist, and I couldn’t help but glance down at it, now nothing more than a little pink circle, healed nearly to the point of invisibility. I noticed Matilda eyeing me, and I pulled the sleeve of my shirt down over the mark and waited for a kick under the table that never came.
I took a bite of my bread, and Pa cleared his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I surveyed the piece of bread in my hand, then looked down at my soup, unsure of what he meant.
Thornley snickered.
Pa frowned at him before returning his gaze to me. “A civilized family says grace before they eat.”
I had taken my meals in my room for so long, such things escaped me. I put the bread down beside my bowl, pressed my hands together, and closed my eyes.
“Perhaps you should speak aloud,” said Pa.
I opened my eyes. A smirk washed across Thornley’s face, and I felt my cheeks flush. “Yes, Pa.” I tried to recall the last time I had said grace and simply couldn’t. My mind went blank, and I found myself staring down at my soup bowl.
Pa looked to my sister. “Matilda, remind your brother what it is to say grace.”
Matilda sat up straight in her chair and clasped her hands, her voice loud and ringing through the room. “Bless, O Lord, this food for Thy use, and make us ever mindful of the wants and needs of those less fortunate. Amen.”
“Amen,” I said with the others, my voice cracking and a little higher than I would have hoped.
Pa gave her a nod and returned to his newspaper.
I didn’t reach for my bread again until I saw Ma buttering hers. “Any word on Patrick O’Cuiv?” she asked.
Pa shook the paper and flipped it back to the first page. “Oh yes, apparently the plot has thickened substantially. Listen—”
MASS KILLING IN MALAHIDE
FATHER SUSPECTED OF SANTRY ESTATE MURDER
Patrick O’Cuiv was found near death by police authorities at his residence in Malahide; suspicious circumstances are suspected, as he was found not alone in his home but in the company of his wife and two of his three children, all dead in their beds. When informed of the state of his family, he turned hysterical and had to be restrained in his grief. Facts have surfaced that Mr. O’Cuiv was the employee involved in the fistfight with the deceased land manager Cornelius Healy of Santry Estate.
Ma shook her head. “That is terrible. So not only did he kill his family but his employer as well?”
Pa shrugged. “To me, the death of his employer appears to be nothing more than an accident. A man at the end of his rope in a desperate situation. The situation came to blows, and Healy paid the price.