Page 57 of Hollow
Aunt Leona.
The air in my lungs goes cold at the sight of them, especially my aunts. This is the first time I’ve seen them (that I’ve remembered), and they look nothing like the aunts I saw in my youth. Their faces are nearly identical, which is odd since they aren’t supposed to be twins, and much like it had happened when I first met Sister Margaret, I can’t seem to get a focus on them. It doesn’t help that they have the hoods over their heads, casting their bony features in shadow so that they resemble skulls.
The three of them glide down the hallway like a floating triangle with Leona at the front, her palms pressed tightly together as if in prayer, wearing a smile that’s a little too wide for her face.
“Here he is,” Leona says. Her voice is also not like I remembered. It sounds projected, as if coming from above and below me instead of in front of me, and it’s the coarse voice of a smoker, raspy and drawn-out.
The triangle of sisters stops in front of us, all of their attention on Brom.
“We are so glad to see you here,” Leona says to him. “To have you back.”
She glides toward him and places her hands on either side of his cheeks. “Yes, yes, it is you. We have been looking for you for so long.”
“Everyone in Sleepy Hollow was,” Sarah interjects.
That was true. For at least a year, search parties would go out, up to Boston or down to New York City, searching for Brom. The odd thing was that it wasn’t his parents who seemed to care as much but my mother. I figured it was just because it mattered so much to me.
“We nearly gave up,” Sister Sophie says.
You did give up, I want to say. They may have looked for that one year, but for the years after that, no one even mentioned his name, like he didn’t even exist.
As if hearing my thoughts, Leona’s sharp eyes swivel over to me.
“And Katrina,” Leona says. Less of a smile for me, which is fine because it doesn’t suit her. “I suppose we owe you a nice welcome as well. I apologize that Ana and I haven’t come by to check on you. We hear you have been doing quite well in your classes though. I’m sure in no time you can help get Brom caught up.”
Ana just nods at me, her smile tight-lipped and more like the type of greeting I’m used to seeing from the Sisters. She really does look like Leona though. The only difference is their hair color—Ana’s a greying dirty blonde and Leona’s dark and streaked with white—plus Ana’s nose hooks to the right. How didn’t I know they were twins? And with Sister Margaret and Sister Sophie being twins as well, what are the odds that they are in the same coven?
“After all,” Sister Margaret says, “I’m sure you’ll want to get your schooling done before you get married.”
“What?” I ask, blinking at her.
Brom coughs, and I give him a look of confusion that he gives back in return.
“The marriage,” my mother says, as if we had just been talking about it. “Your betrothal to each other. As it’s always been promised. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” There’s a sharpness over those last words, something hard coming over her expression.
“Mother,” I begin, exchanging another glance with Brom. “I hardly think this is appropriate, given the circumstances. He just got back.” From where? “And we haven’t seen each other in four years. A lot can change.”
“Nothing changes,” Leona says, her voice going low, her cold eyes bouncing between Brom and me. “Some things are meant to be. You were destined to be with each other from the day you were born.”
Brom makes a low, guttural sound, and I look at him. He looks like an animal about to pounce, his jaw set. “I don’t even know how I fucking got here,” he growls at them, his eyes flashing with petulance. “How about I figure that out before you talk about us getting fucking married.”
Everyone looks stunned, their eyes wide. Only Ana looks like she’s trying to hide a smile.
He doesn’t even know how he got here?
“Abraham!” my mother admonishes him. “I don’t know where you were living before, but that kind of language isn’t appropriate in Sleepy Hollow or at the institute.”
“Sarah,” Leona admonishes her with a wave of her bony hand. “Let him be. It’s quite alright. He’s been through a lot, I’m sure. Let him speak in whatever way he sees fit.”
My mother clamps her mouth shut into a white line, shrinking slightly into the background. How quickly she cowers to Leona.
“Brom,” Leona says. “That is what you still like to be called, isn’t it? Not Abraham or Abe?”
He grunts, and I notice his hands flexing and unflexing at his sides.
“Perhaps it would be best for you and Katrina to get to know each other again,” she goes on. “Sarah, why don’t you invite Brom and his parents over for dinner tonight.”
It was a command more than anything, and my mother nods. “Yes, of course.”