Free Creators by Tiffany Truitt Page A

into a quiet whimper. “I’m so sorry,” I managed, pulling back so I could look up at him.
    Robert’s brow furrowed. “Sorry for what?”
    “How I treated Emma during that last day. I should have been there for her. I was so selfish and scared. She took care of me my whole life, and I abandoned her when she needed me the most,” I admitted, my voice hitching as the tears started to fall once more.
    “Abandoned her? What are you talking about? You think she didn’t know you were frightened out of your mind? The most important thing was that you were there. That’s always the most important thing,” he assured me.
    As I stared up at the man who traveled with me into the unknown because he had once loved my sister, I knew he believed it with all of his heart.
    He had always been there.
    “I’m scared,” I whispered.
    “So is she,” he answered back.
    Later that afternoon, when I was sure any trace of my breakdown had left my face, I went to my sister’s room. As I moved to open the door, I heard Lockwood’s voice coming from inside.
    “I brought a new book today. I think it’s right up your alley. It’s by a woman named Jane Austen. Quite a witty one, that Ms. Austen. The book is called Pride and Prejudice .”
    I smiled to myself, remembering how a boy once tried to help me with books. Happy to know that even in the wilds of the community, people believed in the power of the stories of our past, the stories the council wanted to silence.
    I knocked gently on the door before pushing it open. “Mind if I sit and listen? I’ve never read this one,” I said quietly, bracing myself for whatever Lockwood, or Louisa for that matter, had in store for me.
    Instead of accusations or judgment, Lockwood smiled. “Not at all.”
    I smiled back. It was shaky, but a smile all the same.
    My sister lay on her cot, curled, like Lockwood had told me, in on herself. Her eyes stared vacantly into the distance. I took a seat on the edge of her cot.
    Lockwood gave me a small nod and began to read the witty Ms. Austen’s work.
    And somewhere between the arrival of Mr. Bingley and the Netherfield ball, Louisa took my hand in hers and squeezed it.

Chapter 9
    The door to the infirmary flew open, banging loudly against the wall. I bolted up from the chair where I had fallen asleep watching over Louisa when Lockwood left to take a break, instinctively grabbing for the rifle I always kept at my side since Eric told me I was ready to carry one.
    “Sharon needs you,” Lockwood panted, his face red from exertion. He had clearly run from wherever he was—and fast.
    “What is it?” I asked, putting the rifle down and grabbing for my jacket, pulling it on quickly. Despite the nearness of summer, the air remained cool and crisp.
    “She’s… Sharon’s having the baby.”
    My stomach dropped. “What…what does she need me for?”
    “I don’t know. She just keeps asking for you. She’s going crazy about it. Melinda begs her to breathe and push, but she won’t. She says she needs you.”
    I looked back at my sister who, somehow, managed to remain asleep despite Lockwood’s dramatic entrance. She had been sleeping more and more lately. In fact, her health seemed to be getting worse as the days went on. Her skin had turned an alarming shade of gray. Her hair was always matted to her forehead and cheeks with sweat. She was too weak to even sit up. Sharon had tried to tell me that for some women, especially frail ones like Louisa, pregnancy was harder than usual. My little sister had always been sickly, an affliction that seemed to affect most of the last natural-born children, but this was different. Every time I looked at her, all I could see was Emma writhing and crying out.
    But I wouldn’t abandon her. Not again.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll watch after her,” Lockwood promised.
    I hesitated. I hated leaving her. Once my livestock shift was done, I always came straight to the infirmary and sat with her. Louisa still didn’t