9781250816214

JUBILEE
Sophia reassembles her house shard by shard. She works quickly; she
can finish before dawn. She has always been a good worker. It is what he
wanted, after all. She knows now. She knows everything.
Back it all goes, each in its place, and by the time the songbirds begin
their rounds, no one would ever know any sadness touched this house.
Except for the sack of bones on the table.
Sophia holds the key to the cellar in her hand. Perhaps she will not use
it. She knows what she will find. More of the same. The broken, rendered
scraps of wives, like old candle ends, burnt out for him. What use can it be
to her to see another sad, shattered, achingly small relic that should still
belong to its person and never will again?
Instead, Sophia bakes. In the past it always calmed her. Rolling the
dough, flouring the board, whipping sugar and eggs and all the good things
of this world. She slices the apple, sprinkles it with dates and walnuts and
cinnamon, and folds it into the dish, crimping the edges with precise, quick
little movements born of infinite practice.
The heat of the oven wriggles. The pastry shivers gold and brown.
After all, why not, Sophia thinks. If I have come this far for knowledge,
why not down a staircase? Why not a little farther?
The key turns easy in the lock, because Cascavel only pretends to enjoy
lies, and she knew that when he said it. The truth hurts so much better.
Sophia pulls the cord on a naked light and shadows retreat—but not by
much. It is still dark in the depths of the cellar.
This staircase is just her size.
She grabs a lantern off the ledge as she descends. Clean white walls, a
polished floor, furniture here and there—almost finished, as the serpent
said. She had so often thought of making her little soaps and baskets and
jellies down here, in a space built just for her.
And then she sees it. And Sophia understands with a sickening puddle
of fear in her gut that her husband hadn’t lied either. Not really.
So much old equipment lying around.
It’s dangerous.
She could get hurt.
Long, clean knives hang on the walls. Axes. Saws. Pliers. Hooks.
Shears. Rendering barrels in one corner, a drain for fluids in another.