Page 63 of Hollow
“What is it?” I ask.
“Are they talking about marriage again? Between you and Brom.”
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “As if he hasn’t been gone at all. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Brom like I always have, but…”
“But now you’re with the professor.”
I give her a look. “How do you know that?”
“The walls listen,” Famke says, resuming her chopping. “They listen and watch.”
“Are you the walls?”
She smiles to herself, but it’s a bitter smile. “I have been here a long time, Katrina. I have seen a lot.”
I’ve always liked Famke. Always trusted her. But I knew her loyalty was always to my mother, not to me. Still, I have to ask.
“What have you seen?” I whisper.
Famke’s eyes dart to the empty doorway, then back to me. Her expression turns melancholy. “Your father wanted the very best for you. You know that, don’t you?”
I nod. “I know.”
“But what he wanted for you was not what your mother wanted. He didn’t want you to marry Brom.”
I blink at her, shocked. “What do you mean?”
Of course he did. That’s all they ever talked about. My destiny, how Brom would be the perfect husband, and we would have perfect children and never want for anything.
“He didn’t want you to marry Brom because your mother wanted you to marry him. And his parents wanted you to marry him.” She pauses, slicing the celery with one hard cut. “And the Sisters wanted you to marry him. Because it was never up to you or Brom.”
“He wanted me to have my own free will,” I muse.
She purses her lips at that, tilting her head. “Yes…”
“And?”
“What he really wanted was for you to leave Sleepy Hollow.”
I shake my head. No. That goes against everything I’ve believed, everything I’ve heard.
“No,” I tell her. “That’s not it. His dying words were for me to watch over my mother.”
Her gaze is steady. “Are you sure he said what you think he said?” She leans in close. “I came here to work for your father, Kat. He hired me, took a chance on me when I had lost my husband and had no one, no prospects. I loved him like a son. My allegiance in his passing is to you, not to your mother.”
“Okay,” I say in a small voice, not expecting to hear this.
“There are very few people in this world that you can trust,” she says. “Your father was one of them. Your mother is not.”
I swallow that down. It’s bitter but not surprising. Not even a little.
“What does she do with my aunts on the full moon?” I whisper.
She gives me a wan smile, brushing her hair off her head with a swipe of her arm. “I am not a witch, so I could not tell you what she does. But I do know this. Your mother takes. She took from your father, she’ll take from you. And when she goes to the school on those full moons, she goes to something that gives.”
Then she turns her back to me and starts on the carrots next. “Now, if you please, I have to prepare all this extra food, which I was not prepared for.”
“Sure,” I say softly, stewing on everything she just told me. I slowly walk away, feeling dazed, and go to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and sitting on my bed.