Bonds of Earth by G. N. Chevalier Page B

shrugged it off, but her words did nothing but fuel Michael’s anger. He was surprised to discover it bothered him to know that Abbott was ignoring his own health for the sake of what he perceived as his duty, but he reassured himself by reasoning that he was merely sympathizing with Sarah and Mary, who actually cared about the old bastard.
    “At least the house is almost finished,” Mary sighed into the ensuing silence. “Soon things can go back to normal around here.”
    Unfortunately, Mary’s prediction proved to be overly optimistic, for the moment the house was standing resplendent in its new, glossy coat of paint and its tastefully modernized interior, Seward’s aunt began the real transformation. It started with a seemingly never-ending stream of clothiers and haberdashers. One after another Michael saw them enter the house game and energetic, arms full of boxes and fabrics, and leave it dejected and battered. Watching them limp away with their tails tucked between their legs, Michael could not help feeling they should have at least been warned beforehand, although the outcome would still have been the same. Their opponent was fierce and battle-hardened, and he occupied an entrenched position that seemed impervious to attack.
    Still, the parade continued for a full week, during which Abbott began to take on the appearance of a ghost himself. Never hearty, his already thin frame edged toward gaunt, and dark circles ringed his eyes.
    “Sit down before you fall down,” Michael said gruffly one night, when Mary was about to hand him Seward’s supper. “I’ll take it to him.”
    But Abbott merely shook his head stubbornly, too tired to lash out in words, and took the tray from Mary, who watched him go with worry in her gaze.
    Sarah, who had fallen more and more silent as the weeks went past, despite Michael’s efforts to keep her spirits up, looked at each of them in turn, then stood and headed up the stairs. Mary opened her mouth to speak to her, then closed it again.
    Cautiously, Michael laid a hand on her arm. “All right, then you go sit down,” he ordered gently. “I’ll clean up.” She looked up at him, startled, then nodded and moved to sit at the wide wooden table, settling into the chair with a small, soft sound.
    He was halfway through the dishes when he glanced over and saw her blunt, sturdy fingers gripping her teacup with such force he was afraid it might shatter. He considered taking it from her but decided to leave her be. There were worse things, after all, than wrecking a teacup or two.
     
     
    H AVING experienced a setback in remodeling his exterior, Seward’s aunt, bloodied but unbowed, next turned her attention to the inner man. And that was the point at which things deteriorated completely.
    Michael was carefully pruning the newly leafed trees in the front yard that morning when he saw the car drive up and emit a small, sturdy woman in a nurse’s uniform. She carried a huge black grip and looked impossibly young, and Michael felt his heart sink.
    By lunchtime she was sitting in the kitchen, her eyes red and puffy from crying, while Mary fussed over her and fumed at Seward. Her name was Emma, and she’d graduated from nursing school a month ago; this was her first job. She’d wanted to work in a maternity ward, but since no positions had been available, she’d accepted this one instead.
    “I’m surprised the girl survived,” Michael murmured, speaking quietly with Mary by the stove while Emma sat at the table spooning Mary’s corn chowder into her mouth with a shell-shocked air. Seward’s aunt couldn’t have selected a less suitable candidate to handle her strong-willed nephew, though perhaps she’d been hoping the beauty of the young woman would cause him to magically forget the horror that had destroyed his body. She had only the most perfunctory training in physical therapy and no experience at all with war veterans.
    “This has to stop,” Mary whispered. “Thomas is as