Chapter 14: The Cabin

The ferryman's cabin had one room, one stove and a roof that dripped into a saucepan.

I got there at midnight like I said I would.

I slept on the floor in my coat and woke up at dawn to the sound of a truck on the gravel.

Then a second truck, and a third.

I opened the door with the poker in my hand.

Joss climbed down from the first cab with a mattress on his shoulder.

"Put the poker down, Bri," he said. "It's us."

Behind him my four other brothers climbed out of the other two trucks, one after another, and every one of them was carrying something.

The second eldest had my quilt and a lamp.

The third had a box of my books.

The fourth had a kettle, and the youngest had a bag of flour and a look of enormous worry.

"How did you know where I was?" I said.

"The housekeeper called the Pack House at six," Joss said. "She said you walked eleven miles in the dark in the wrong socks."

"They were the right socks."

"She was very firm about the socks."

I stood in the doorway and watched them carry my whole room across the yard.

Nobody asked me to come home.

I noticed that.

The third brother set the books down on the stove shelf and looked around the cabin.

"Bri, this place is a crime scene," he said.

"It's a cabin."

"There's a hole in the roof."

"There's a saucepan under it."

"That's the hole's saucepan," the fourth said. "It's a family now."

I laughed.

It came out before I could stop it.

All five of them stopped and looked at me.

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