Read Under the Empyrean Sky for Free Online Page B

nobody’s going to.”
    She pulls away from him and sits up on the bed. He plants a hand on the small of her back, a pale expanse that calls to mind a puddle of milk. And then she stands, leaving his hand wanting.
    But something tickles at his brain stem.
    Milk.
Milk.
Goat’s milk.
    “Aw,
shit
,” he says, hopping up and then falling back as he trips over his own trousers. He races to get them up on both legs, kicking his feet up in the air like an upside-down weevil. “Gotta milk the goat. Gotta get to the market. Shit, shit, shit.”
    Gwennie pulls on her own trousers and shirt, and shrugs. “Go to it, Captain.”
    “Come with me,” he says.
    “Already late. They’re wanting me to be there so they can fit the dress.” What she means is,
I don’t want to get caught
.
    “I gotta go,” he says.
    “So do I. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Tomorrow
. And like that she’s out the window. His gaze hangs there a little while longer. For some reason, his heart aches.
    Mer’s room looks like what he figures Guster’s Grove looked like after the twister came through: Her clothes are on the floor, not in the drawer. Her bedsheets are off the cot. A knitted blanket is bundled in the corner. A couple of plastic-headed, fabric-bodied dolls lay arranged in a lascivious position atop the old swampwood dresser.
    And there stands his sister, her dark hair tucked under a broad-brimmed farmer’s hat. She’s shoving clothes into a long canvas bag. Her window is open to the south roof of the house, a breeze blowing in.
    “I heard you two” is the first thing she says, and a blush rises to Cael’s cheeks. He crosses his arms and takes a step backward. That’s Merelda. Good at disarming him. Him and anybody she’s ever met. She doesn’t even look over at him. Just keeps shoving stuff in that bag.
    “You’re running away again,” he says.
    She shrugs. “You weren’t supposed to be home.
Pop
wasn’t supposed to be home. I thought I had time to just… sneak out.”
    “So don’t go.”
    “I have to.”
    “Shut the hell up. You do not.”
    She spins toward him. “I don’t want to be Obligated. I don’t want to be forced to marry someone I don’t love.”
    “You have a whole year before you’re Obligated, and another year after that until the ceremony makes it official.
I’m
the one who’s on the hook this year.”
    “And are you happy about it?”
    “No, of course not, I… I—”
    “Then come with me.”
    He scowls. “And leave Pop? And Mom? I don’t know if anybody told you this, but we have responsibilities here, girl. Work. Jobs. Ace notes to keep everybody alive. Pop would say—”
    “I don’t care what Pop says. He doesn’t care about us anymore.”
    “That ain’t true. And stop interrupting me.”
    “Besides,” she says, setting down the bag and walking over to the old oaken rocking chair sitting in the corner of her room. “I have a plan to keep up my end.” She snatches her old teddy bear: a one-eared, button-eyedbear named Mister Shushers, named not on account of the ear but rather because nobody ever seemed to have stitched him a mouth.
    She’s never taken the bear before. She loves that bear.
    “Don’t do this,” he says.
    “Got to.”
    “Damnit, Mer!”
    She hops over to her brother, as light on her feet as a seed puff skipping across the dry earth, and she throws her arms around him. Mer always gives big hugs. Lung-crushers, unexpected for her sprite-like size.
    He feels the warmth of her cheek against his.
    Then she presses a small note into his hand. “A note. Saying bye to you guys. Give it to Pop. If he even cares.”
    “He cares—”
    “Bye-bye, big brother.”
    “Don’t be gone long, sis.”
    To this, she says nothing. Mer goes and grabs her bag, hoisting it over her shoulder. Starts to climb out the window. She waves one last time.
    “Pop’s not gonna be happy,” he says.
    “That’s life in the Heartland.”
    And then she’s gone.
    Pop’s outside by the