The Last Writer by Adriane Leigh (books like harry potter .txt) 📕

“I’m talking about the fact that I’m so blessed to have reconnected with old family friends that pulled just the right strings, and Zara, you won’t believe it—the book editor at the New York Times is going to read my book and his assistant has assured me I’m a shoo-in for the bestsellers list on release day!” The governess’s eyes swept the room before they seemed to focus on Yara at my side. “What’s wrong with her?”

I could hardly contain my rage. “She’s very sick.”

“Well, let me get my vitamins, that child has the worst immunity—I thought the sea air would help clear her lungs but it’s only made it worse.”

“Your vitamins aren’t helping her, and how would we know if the sea air was good for her when she never goes outside to play? Have you seen the mold lining the walls of the cellar? I thought you were going to call a cleaning crew before the kids started working down there?”

“Oh, Zara, don’t be so dramatic. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Neither does my sister dying in my bed! We need to get a doctor—”

“We can’t, just for the same reason I couldn’t call the cleaners. We’ve got so many plans for Usher but I’m afraid I’m only one person and we can’t accomplish them all at once. Teamwork makes the dream work, remember? That’s where you children come in.”

“You brought them here to force them to work,” I deadpanned, no longer willing to tap dance around the truth.

“And give them a warm home and family, they’re far better here than at the orphanage—they have beds wall to wall in that place. Tell me, would you rather live in nothing more than a hospital ward with two hundred other kids, or at Usher?”

I bit my tongue, thinking of the orchard and the birds and the fountain...my favorite things at Usher. “My life here is very different from theirs.”

The governess only arched an eyebrow. “Well, you’ll need to get this one cheered up, the new director and producers are going to do exterior shots of the house to begin pre-production on the movie. They want to interview the twins and take a few photos. They’re intent on using them for the film, we can’t disappoint them.” My heart ached as I thought about what she was asking. “Our future depends on it, Zara.”

And with that, the governess left the room.

And then I spent the next six hours in isolation with a little girl that I’d never really much cared for before, but suddenly felt like the only thing that mattered.

Yarrow, to my surprise, never checked on Yara, not unless he had while we’d slept through the night, but I doubted it. I thought how funny it was that blood relatives felt little connection to the heartbeat of Yara Thornberry, and yet here I was, half-blood relative and willing to sacrifice anything to save her life.

“How’s our future little starlet?” The governess interrupted my thoughts later. She crossed the room swiftly, small medical bag in hand and elegant beaded dress trailing behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“There’s a literary benefit tonight at The Met, Howard says it’s important I’m there if I want to swing in these important circles.”

“Howard?”

“My literary agent, aren't you listening?”

“Right.” I pressed a hand to my eyes, feeling my brain thicken with fog.

“So, I’ve brought some vitamins that should pep our little princess up. I’ll make sure to be back by morning. I can’t imagine these producers would come before eleven, but just in case I want to make sure the little ones are all tucked away safe and sound—we can’t have anything ruining this for us, can we now?”

I swallowed, praying harder than I already had that Yara would come through this illness.

“If she perks up a bit, maybe bring her out into the sunshine? Yarrow can hunt down an old wheelchair from one of the bedrooms, some salt air will do her good.”

I didn’t have the heart to respond, my mother’s words and actions seemed to exist in an alternate reality.

“Here we are.” The governess sat on the edge of the bed and opened her small pouch. A syringe and four tiny vials of liquid were contained within. I struggled to read the labels on the side, one clearly said B12 and another D3, but the two remaining vials were wrapped with handwritten and illegible labels.

The governess moved quickly, rolling Yara’s tiny sleeve over her elbow and pushing the blunt needle tip into her white flesh. She winced, squirming softly, but the governess’s firm grip and blood-red painted fingernails held her in place.

I winced when she withdrew the syringe, tossing the empty needle back into the medical bag with the vials and closing it tightly. She spun a tiny built-in padlock to lock it securely, then tucked it under her arm. “I added a little extra steroid sedative to help open the airways and keep any pain controlled.”

“A sedative? Her heartbeat is so low, won’t that make it worse?”

The governess smiled softly and shook her head. “She’ll be just fine, get her out into the sunshine after I leave and even better if you can get some broth down her throat. I have to say though, the pale shade of her skin will look perfect on camera, I think the director is going to love her.”

“Have you seen Father on your trips to the city?” I bravely asked.

The governess stiffened. “No, he’s been too busy at the library.”

“You haven’t called to tell him Yara is sick? He would want to see her.”

Her features turned to steel. “She’s always been sick, have you forgotten that’s why we came to Usher?”

“Is that why?” I was quick to retort.

Mother narrowed her eyes at me, and it was then that I noticed she had become a different person over the weeks that we’d been here. Her face was taut and stern, but her eyes sparkled with life, like she enjoyed life fully now, while her children suffocated under her.

“Of course it