The Sun and Moon and Stars

Chapter XVI

Frances stood in front of the fire, the heat burning her face. The pain was welcome. Almost as helpful as the blood in her mouth.

Julian had started the fire when they had returned indoors. She had barely moved since, forcing him to work around her as he built the teepee of wood and stoked the flames. She kept her back to the divan, where Winnie lay...where Julian had reluctantly laid her down.

She had begged Julian to tend to Jem whose whimpers they had heard at the top of the staircase. She nearly had to pry his arms away from Winnie, telling him that Jem needed him. She knew he needed a few minutes away, a few moments without his daughter's body in his arms.

But she hadn't counted on promising to care for Winnie herself. The words had just tumbled out in the moment: her hands on Julian's shoulders, tugging him away... her voice—at least she assumes it had been her voice—reassuring him that she'd care for the body. She'd make sure his little precious angel was comfortable and warm.

It was only then that his clenched fingers unlocked from around Winnie's frail and soaking body.

She looked over her shoulder. Winnie's hands were folded over her chest, but her eyes were still half-open. Slowly falling asleep.

She's asleep, just asleep...Frances tried to tell herself as she slowly turned towards the cold darkness of the rest of the parlor. Just asleep...She fell asleep on a trip back from town...she's asleep and someone has to prepare her for bed.

Frances gritted her teeth. If Julian could pull himself away from his dead daughter, she could very well face her own fears.

She looked down at Winnie. She looked like a doll. So pale and fragile. Translucent skin. Dewy. And hair like a crown.

Selene...the Greek goddess that Frances had once heard about. She couldn't quite remember where. Selene, the goddess of the moon. Even Winnie's hair looked silver, still drying, little droplets paling the gold.

Frances reached down to the little girl's arm. Her fingers shook as she pulled on the Winnie's first sleeve, then the other. She pulled the nightgown over her head and dropped it on the floor beside. The sofa was soaking wet. Frances could almost imagine Winnie murmuring in her sleep, complaining about the cold discomfort.

She reached for the blankets Julian had piled before going to see Jem. She quickly wrapped Winnie in one, and then another, thankful that she didn't have to touch skin anymore. She pulled Winnie into her lap and leaned against the sofa. For a second, she almost imagined that she was just rocking Winnie to sleep...perhaps after a nightmare, or perhaps after the little girl couldn't fall asleep. Perhaps Julian had left on business for a few days again and Winnie missed him.

Frances looked down at Winnie's gentle face and softly closed her eyes. She pressed the girl to her chest and under her breath began to whisper the lullaby her mother had always sung to her.

"Upon this bed you lay your head

Sweet dreams to come to you

Now watch the dark and rest your heart

This day of life is through.

"Let all these sheep watch as you sleep

Their cries will lull your breath

Keep watchful eye as they walk by

Lead you to restful death."

Frances gritted her teeth, finally realizing what the words actually meant. They had always seemed to her gentle and somewhat hypnotizing.

But as she turned her eyes once again upon Winnie, she couldn't help but feel the song to be appropriate. That's all death was, after all, an eternal sleep.

***

When Frances awoke the next morning, it was nearly midmorning. Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to see through the sudden brightness. Julian stood beside the mantle, his arms crossed and his eyes dazed, locked on the form of his child.

Frances straightened from her slouch and felt a crack along her back. The fire had been stoked to a glowing smolder. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. Her cheeks felt dirty and dry. Tear tracks.

She looked back at Julian but he didn't even acknowledge her. He hadn't slept the night. That much was clear. His eyes were bloodshot the bags beneath his eyes were only accentuated by his pale skin. His hair stood up on end.

"Julian," she called gently.

He didn't even blink. But then... "Jem is still asleep, but he will be awake soon. Rebecca as well."

Frances pulled Winnie closer to her chest and shakily placed a hand on her cold fingers. She began to rub them, mindlessly wondering if she could perhaps knead some warmth back in.

"I'll be out in the workshop," Julian announced slowly, as if the words themselves caused him pain. "I need to make a...coffin." His last word shook as hard as his hands did and without a single look at Frances stumbled outside. She could hear his labored breaths as he passed the house.

Frances furrowed her brow. She knew he wouldn't be building anything. Not with that much grieve dancing before his eyes.

Frances struggled to her feet, careful to keep Winnie's body level. She carried her upstairs and into her bedroom. For a moment, she just stood there in the doorway. Her bed was still unmade from the night before. It had only been a single night. Not even. And yet she felt as if an entire lifetime had come and gone.

Winnie's body suddenly felt heavier, as if a weight had been dropped in her lap.

An entire life had been and gone within hours.

She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes. A boat taking water. If she didn't gain control, she would drown in her sorrow once again.

She sniffed and placed Winnie on the unmade bed. She unwrapped the first blanket and Winnie's hair tumbled out. Frances gentle stroked the curls. It was one of the few things that didn't change in death. They were soft, bouncy, and splayed out around her head like a halo. In life and now in death, she was an angel.

Frances reached around in her top drawer and pulled out an old nightgown. She laid it over Winnie, covering her until Jem awoke and Frances could find a pretty dress for Winnie to wear.

Frances didn't even hear the first knocks, continuing preparing Winnie, gently tucking the nightgown around her and pulling her hair free of any knots.

But then a soft voice called, "Ansi?"

Frances turned to the door, her stomach rising into her throat like a balloon.

She gathered her nerves and opened the door a crack. Jem looked up at her, his shirt miss-buttoned and a sock missing. "Ansi, nee hep." Rebecca sat on the floor beside him, wearing nothing but her nightgown. "Nee hep gedding down." He pointed at the staircase.

Frances looked beyond him at the stairs. "Yes, Jem, I see. Can you wait just one minute?"

He nodded and looked through the crack. His face lit up. "Winnie!"

When the little girl didn't respond, he looked back up at Frances' face.

It crumbled under his large brown eyes. "Winnie sweeping?"

Frances chuckled on a sob. She threw the door open and crouched down to his level, taking him into her arms.

Her tears wet his hair and shoulder. He wriggled against her. She didn't dare loosen her hold.

"Ansi?"

"Jem...Jem..." was all she could muster between her sobs.

"Ansi? Winnie can play now?"