Lizzie Borden by Elizabeth Engstrom Read Free Book Online

and jam, and a plate of fried fatty bacon.
    They ate in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes.
    Then Abby cleared her throat, looked at the tablecloth and said, “Your father has many pressures upon him.”
    “They are of his own making.” Emma said, looking straight up at Abby, wishing she would raise her eyes.
    “Be that as they may, he tries only to make a fine home for us.”
    “For you.”
    “You are an ungrateful girl.”
    “I am not a girl. I am a grown woman, and so is Lizzie. We have a right to say what goes on in this house and how the family finances are handled.”
    “You have no such right. The money is your father’s to do with as he wishes.”
    “To do with as you wish.”
    “These conversations have cost him sleep.”
    “Oh. That’s a terrible shame.”
    “Emma. . .”
    Emma put down her toast and regarded her stepmother.
    “I’m sixty-seven years old. Your father is sixty-nine. We won’t live too much longer. I just wanted a little something to leave to my baby sister, Sarah. She’s just married again and trying to make a go of things. You and Lizzie. . . You’ll have everything. . . .”
    “He’s already given her a house in town.”
    “And he gave you and Lizzie just compensation. Besides, that house is much too small for Sarah and her family to live in.”
    Emma snorted. “Just compensation! He deeded us a pile of sticks filled with unruly tenants. If she doesn’t like the house, she should sell it and buy a larger place.”
    “It isn’t that easy, Emma.”
    “Then why doesn’t he leave it to her in his will?”
    “She needs a place to live now. He just thought this would be a better way. . . .”
    “Well, it’s not.” Emma’s face flushed again and she was in danger of losing control. “That property was our mother’s. He can deed some other property to your stupid half-sister. He can give her some bank shares. But that property, that particular property is the most valuable of them all, and it has the most sentimental value to Lizzie and me.”
    “I’ll speak with him about it again.”
    Emma threw her toast onto her plate. “I’m sure you will.” She threw her napkin on top of the toast, pushed away from the table and left the room.
    She walked up the stairs quietly, the rage burning brightly within her. She unlocked Lizzie’s bedroom door, hands pale and trembling in the pre-dawn light. She stumbled against Lizzie’s chair and then dropped the key to her own bedroom on the floor. Tears began to blur her vision and she got down on her knees to find the key, furious at the prospect that she might cry, furious even more that she couldn’t get into her bedroom to seethe in privacy.
    She moved and heard the key slide across the wooden floor.
    “Emma?” Lizzie’s sleepy voice. “Emma?”
    “Shut up,” Emma said, then her fingers found the key and she stood up, but she couldn’t fit it into the lock. Her hands trembled and it was dark and Lizzie was listening and her fury, her helplessness, her impotence was in a rage beyond thought.
    “Emma?”
    “Shut up, shut up, shut up! ” Then the key fit into the lock and she turned it and opened the door. She took a deep breath. “I’m leaving here today, Lizzie,” she said, and then entered her room, shut and locked the door behind her.
    I’m leaving here today, she had said, as she clenched her fists and crossed her arms over her chest. I’m leaving here today . She paced back and forth, from her bed to her closet. Her suitcase was in the closet, she had only to get it down and pack it full of her clothes, but she didn’t trust herself at the moment. If she loosened her hands from their grips upon themselves, they may do something. So she paced, her face on fire, the muscles in her legs stiff and tense, her back straight, her jaw so tight it ached. I’m leaving here today .
    A soft knock came to her door.
    “What?”
    “Emma,” Lizzie said, “please let me in.”
    “Go away.”
    “I won’t. Now open