“I-I-I didn’t—” Alice’s voice is a stutter over the rain in the moment before I race to the river’s edge.

I give no thought to anything but Henry, helpless without the use of his legs in the rushing water. I cannot get to the river fast enough. I dive headlong into the center of it, knowing it is deepest there and will carry me more swiftly toward my brother. The water hits me with the cold shock of surprise as it closes over my head, taking me downstream even as it pushes me under its surface. I struggle against the current before finally letting go, allowing the force of the water to push me to and fro, to throw me painfully against the bottom, scraping my body against the rocks that lie there.

It is only as I begin losing my breath that I come to my senses, making a desperate bid for air by pushing off the rocky riverbed with all the force I can muster. I long ago learned to swim in the calm water off the island where we vacation in summer, but my violent tumble down the river has nothing in common with the gentle rocking of the ocean. My head emerges from the murky depths, but the river tugs at my skirts, threatening to pull me down once more. I believe I see something dark floating downstream just before my head is again pushed beneath the roiling current.

This time I fight, thinking Henry may not be far out of my grasp. I kick and stretch, reaching for the surface until I break free, gasping for air while I am able. The rain still falls, making circles on the surface that fold quickly into the rapids. I look and look, scanning the churning river for any sign of my brother, but the water is muddy, the rain incessant, and I see nothing that gives me hope before I am slammed to the bottom yet again.

My bones are weary, numb with cold and the constant abuse of the rocks at the bottom of the river. Tossed through the water like discarded baggage, I feel the alluring tug of eternal sleep. Something within me wants to let go. To open my mouth and let the water flow to every inch of my body, if only to complete the struggle that is the river, the prophecy, the burden that is mine.

It is my mother’s voice that forces me to a moment of lucidity. Watch out for Henry, Lia. It is an echo in the half-dead part of my mind, the part that has nearly given up, and with it I kick to the surface, fighting for my life and the life of my brother.

“Lia! Over here! Come this way!” At first I think I imagine it, but the voice is real and calling to me from the riverbank.

I lift my head over the rapids, scanning the shoreline until I see her. It is Alice, standing at the river’s edge with a long, thick branch in her hand.

“Come on, Lia! You must try! Try to make your way to me.” I can barely hear her, though she must be shouting with everything she has in order to be heard at all from such a distance.

She is far enough downstream that I may make it if I paddle furiously and with all my might. But Henry… Desperation makes me frantic, and I begin to sink once more as I scan the river. There is no sign of him. No sign of the chair, so heavy it has surely sunk somewhere along the length of the river.

“Lia! Over here!” Alice is still waving. Still calling. Looking only at me. Who will search for Henry?

I decide to try and grab onto the branch, if only to give myself a moment to be still while I scan the water and the riverbank for Henry’s dark head. The river pushes me along with such force and at such great speed that working against the powerful current takes every ounce of strength left in my battered body.

Against every odd, I begin changing direction, slowly turning toward the bank on my right. As my body settles more fully into its new direction I am able to use the current to my advantage, and by the time I am near to Alice and the proffered branch I am moving so fast I fear I might pass them entirely with one sweep of the river’s great arms.

“Ready, Lia? You must grab as you pass, all right?” Alice’s voice is a command up ahead of me, and I find myself nodding in agreement despite everything that has happened.

I am rushing, rushing toward the spot where the branch dips into the water.

“Be ready, Lia. One… two… wait… Now, Lia! Now! Grab it!”

She is leaning so far out over the river that I think she will topple in after me, but as I rush by, I reach out a hand and grapple through the water. I am nearly past it, nearly past the point where I might find salvation, when I feel the crackly, rough branch on my palm. I close my fingers around it quickly, before it is too late.

In an instant my body stops its journey downriver. I still feel the pull of the current. I still feel my skirts, heavy with water, tangling against my legs and weighing down my body. But for now, at least, the branch and my sister serve to keep me above water.

“Lia! Lia.” Alice is panting, out of breath and soaked to the skin as if she, too, has nearly drowned in the river. She extends one hand with effort, keeping the other on her end of the branch. “Take my hand, Lia.”

I hardly hear her at all. My eyes scan the length of the river, taking it in until it disappears in a curve around the bend. He may have grabbed a low-lying branch, I think. He may have become stuck on one of the shallow stretches of river. He may have found a rock to cling to until help arrives.

I tick the possibilities off in my mind as if counting down the options for tea. As if every one of them is just as possible as the last, despite the fact that there is no sign of Henry. No sign of his chair. Looking at the river, it is easy to believe that Henry was never there at all.

“Now, Lia! You must grab my hand. This branch will not hold you forever.” Alice is angry, and I am surprised that her anger can still gain my attention.

“H-h-henry.” I am so cold I can no longer feel the branch beneath my palm, though I see it still enclosed inside my fist.

“We shall get a search party for Henry, Lia. But you must come out of the water now before the branch gives way.”

I am still thinking. Still thinking. Trying to think of a way to save Henry.

“Lia!” Alice is shouting at me through her tears, and I notice for the first time that she is sobbing, sobbing so hard she can hardly speak. “You will come out of the water this instant. Do you hear me? Do you? Because you will be no good to Henry dead at the bottom of this river.”

There is no time to question her offer of help. Something in her voice, in her tears, in the stark fear on her face, makes me nod. She is right. Only too right. I must get out of the water to help Henry properly, and right now, there is only one way out.

One of Alice’s hands holds onto the branch. The other reaches for me.

It takes me a moment to muster my courage, for I am so cold and the river so fast that I fear falling back into the current. I will not survive it again.

I wrap one hand tighter around the branch. And with the other I reach for Alice.

She grips my hand so tightly with hers that I do not doubt for an instant that she will come into the river with me before letting me go. She pulls with a strength I didn’t know she had until she falls backward into the mud and I am lying half in and half out of the water.

She scrambles to her feet, slipping in the mud, and turns me onto my back.

“Lia? Lia? Are you all right?” Her face is pale and wet. I don’t know if it is the rain or her tears that fall to my face as I sink into darkness.

The room is warm, but I feel it only as the absence of the cold that seemed to sink deeper into my bones in the hours since Alice pulled me from the water. I am still numb. Whether from cold or fear I don’t know. Ivy and Aunt Virginia have been bustling about, piling extra blankets on my bed, forcing me to drink tea so hot it scalds my tongue.

“There, now. Are you warm enough, dear? Is there anything else I can get you?” I feel Aunt Virginia’s gaze on my face, but I cannot meet her eyes.

I shake my head, studying the fine needlework strewn across the coverlet on my bed. The search party is still out looking for Henry. Sonia and Luisa are downstairs, somewhere in the silent house. I know these things, but cannot harness the energy to think about any of them.

A knock at the door forces Aunt Virginia’s eyes to slide toward Ivy, standing near the washstand over a bowl of steaming water. Ivy makes her way to the door, opening it a crack before closing it and crossing to Aunt Virginia.

When she leans in to whisper in Aunt Virginia’s ear, I know they think me so close to madness that they fear sending me around the bend completely when, in fact, I feel nothing at all.

“I shall be right back, Lia.” Aunt Virginia smoothes the hair at the top of my head before leaning in to kiss my forehead. Her lips are cool on my hot skin.

I steal a glance at the doorway out of the corner of my eye, registering a roughly dressed gentleman standing with his hat in his hands in the hallway. It takes only a second to lower my eyes back to the safety and predictability of the coverlet.

It is impossible to say how long Aunt Virginia is gone, for time seems to have no measure in the warmth and security of my room. I am half disappointed when she returns to sit gently on the side of my bed. I should like to stay in the quiet of my room without anyone speaking to me for a very long time.

“Lia.” Her voice is at first gentle, but when I do not answer it becomes only slightly more insistent. “Lia. I must speak to you. About Henry. Will you look at me?”

But I cannot. I cannot break the spell of the quiet room. This room where I have lain since Alice and I were moved from the nursery so long ago. This room where I have wrapped gifts for Henry at Christmastime. This room where I have dreamed of James’s lips on mine. Surely nothing too terrible will happen here.

“Lia.” Her voice cracks, and the sadness there is so unbearable that I almost obey. I almost meet her eyes.

But I cannot. I turn my face to the wall, lifting my chin in a stubborn refusal to hear the thing I know she will say. The thing that will make it impossible to go on.