Now I stood, wearing my backpack filled with a change of clothes and a few extra pairs of underwear and socks. The rest of the pack was stuffed with as much dried meat and water as would fit. Even so, it wouldn’t last long. If things went smoothly we would be back in a week or two, but I knew that wouldn’t be the case. Not because I was being pessimistic, but because I was being realistic.
Jonah had been missing all morning. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps this would be the sort of clean break from him I needed. I knew staying here with him I would never be able to truly let him go, and I wanted to. I wanted to let him be who he was called to be. I wanted to love him that much.
I glanced behind me. My friends sat in the truck. East stood next to me as we faced Eli, Quint, and JP. They were the only ones who came to say goodbye. I knew they were the only ones who could bear to see us drive away.
JP stood in front of me, tears in his eyes, his arms outstretched. I pulled him into me. Eli sniffed and lowered his head. He knew how much I loved JP, how I thought he was the greatest kid that ever walked the earth. Eli knew too that JP loved me. Just as Quinn and East were inseparable, so were JP and I. Wherever one of us went, the other followed. But now I was going where he couldn’t go and it was killing both of us.
I rubbed JP’s shoulder and kissed the top of his knotted hair. “See that tree?” I asked.
He pulled his head from my chest, leaving my shirt wet from his tears.
“Yes,” he said, and sniffed.
“That looks like the strongest and healthiest apple tree, so that means it will produce the very best apples and they will ripen first.”
He nodded.
“I can’t wait to split the first apple with you. That will probably be the best apple either of us has ever eaten,” I said to JP, as Eli placed a hand on his shoulder.
JP looked up at me, deep into my eyes, as I’d seen him do only one other time before. “Do you promise to come back?”
“I do,” I said.
“And do you promise to bring my sister with you?”
I nodded, hoping I was being honest.
“Okay,” he said, releasing his grip.
I let my hands slide down his arms as Eli pulled JP to him.
“I’m sorry Jonah is not here to say goodbye,” Eli said.
The mention of Jonah’s name stirred too much emotion. “It’s better this way,” I said, trying to force a smile.
“No, it’s not. I hoped he would make a different decision.” Eli was staring into my eyes as his little brother had just done.
I knew what he meant and I was tired of pretending I didn’t. “I would rather he live,” I said, meeting his gaze.
“Yes, I want him to live too, but I am not sure if he’s doing that,” Eli said.
“Your brother’s life is his decision,” Quint said, looking at Eli. “Bria, I love you—we all do. I wish you weren’t leaving, but I know I can’t stop you. I’ll pray for you, as I’ve done every day of your life.” He opened his arms.
I leaned against him, hugging him, wishing it was my father instead of Quint that was there saying goodbye to me.
“We should go,” East said, looking from her father to me.
I nodded. “Take care of my dad,” I said, bending to kiss JP one last time on the head.
He remained motionless as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Tell him I understand why he stayed and tell him I wish him happiness,” I said, meeting Eli’s eyes.
He nodded as he held JP.
I climbed into the back of the truck, my eyes moving from JP, toward the back of the house. I knew it was pointless; he wasn’t there.
When the truck pulled to the front of the house I could see my father weeping at the window, his right hand covering his eyes as his body shook. The cane in his left hand moved back and forth with the waves of emotion. I turned away.
The engine lurched forward. The pain in my chest was so real it felt as if a rib was broken. JP ran from the back of the house, trying with all his might to keep up with us. I wanted to jump out. Every cell in my body screamed for me to run to JP, to hold him in my arms and not leave him. I loved him as if he were the little brother I’d lost all those years ago.
I looked at East and wondered how she was enduring it, watching JP run after us, tears streaming down his face. She sat across from me, staring at the morning sky, not looking at her brother, not watching as those we loved most faded away.
JP leaned forward on his knees, breathing heavily. He could no longer keep up with the truck. I did my best to smile. I tried to wave, but my hand wouldn’t respond. Air would not enter my body. My head began to spin as my lungs cried out for oxygen. When JP was out of sight I gasped for air. I tried not to allow the thought in … the thought that asked if I would ever see him again.
With blurred eyes I looked at the land passing around us, the life we’d built in the last four months vanishing with it. The small path I’d taken, almost daily for the last few months, appeared before me. It was the path that led to the graves of my mother and my brother. My knuckles turned white as I tightened my grip around the old wooden slats, afraid if I didn’t hold on I would jump from the truck.
Nine
The narrow path was halfway between the two homes and deep in the woods amid a small clearing. I had wanted to see my mother’s grave my whole life, especially on the days I felt alone and abandoned by my father. For some reason, I felt that at her grave I could be with her in some small way.
In early February, when Jonah was stronger, I summoned the courage to ask my father to take me to my mother’s grave. He and I walked in silence, our pace slow, set by the rotting flesh of his leg. The unevenness of the ground and the snow made it that much more difficult for him. As we left the larger path, or what had once been a road connecting the two houses, the ground softened beneath our feet. The snow came up to my shins, but I didn’t care. My lungs burned with the cold air and my heart raced with the knowledge that we were approaching my mother and my brother, or at least their remains.
The woods were deep and dark. But not eerie like one might expect from a long-ago abandoned homestead burial site on a freezing February afternoon. Instead they felt comfortable and protective. A combination of a warm fire and a good friend. I felt at home and the woods drew me deeper. Much as the wind had done on the day we walked to my grandparents’ home. I understood now why my mother loved being outside. It spoke to the core of who she was, of who I was. Perhaps that was why my father fled this place and these woods after her death, preferring the noisy silence of cities when the essence of his life had been destroyed.
The trees began to thin and my pace quickened. Jonah had told me the graves were in a small clearing. He said his mom went every year at springtime and scattered wildflower seeds. Charlotte told him my mother loved the messy beauty of a wildflower garden and because of that, Charlotte transformed the small meadow where my mother was laid to rest into one large garden.
I turned to see my father lagging far behind me. I slowed my pace and my father walked still slower. I imagined for him this moment was far more complicated than it was for me. This place, and what it represented, was the reason he’d taken me and fled eighteen years before. For me it wasn’t complicated. I wanted to go to her grave and read her name, to know for sure I had not made her up.
As a child I wondered at times if perhaps I was an alien dropped from outer space into the city and a lonely lawyer found me and took me home. That theory seemed as possible as any other. I did have memories of my mother, but they were disjointed. A laugh here, a song there, nothing that made much sense. Despite my doubts and lack of physical proof, I knew she was real because I could feel her love for me in those memories. Now, on this snow-covered morning, I watched my father hobble along, a tear running down his jagged face. A face that looked much older than the years it held.
I no longer waited; he would get there in his own time. I moved forward and the trees disappeare
d. Two small rows of marble arches stood in the white meadow. I turned once more to see my father. He nodded and I went toward the tombstones, my legs weak and moving forward with no command from me to do so. I couldn’t think; my mind raced and went blank. My eyes scanned the tombstones without reading them. At the end of the back row stood two stones: one large, one small. They were not spaced like the others, but instead the little one rested next to the big one.
I fell to my knees next to the big one. My hand shook as I used the sleeve of Jonah’s coat to wipe the snow from the smooth, frozen stone. I fell backward, sitting on the ground as the name became visible. My heart and lungs stopping as I read the words:
Esther Marie Ford
Beloved Wife, Mother, Friend
Daughter of a Loving Savior
The world spun. Water dripped onto my hands. I inhaled and the world slowed. I closed my hands around the wetness that filled them. I touched my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was crying. I sat staring at the words, wondering at the last part. Wondering how a “Loving Savior” could have allowed the death of one so loved, so good.
I reached across my mother’s grave and wiped the snow from the small stone beside hers.
Holt Xavier Ford, Jr.
An Angel Heaven Could Not Be Without
I sat staring at the gray stones, the midday sun warming the top of my head. I heard my father shuffle near. A sob escaped the depths of his soul as his knees fell to the ground beside me. His body shook and his fingers trembled toward the cold stones: first my mother’s and then my brother’s. I realized in this moment that as much as I hurt, he hurt more. As much as I lost, he lost more. It’s true that I lost a mother and a brother, but he lost his wife and child and his God. I knew his sobs contained both sorrow and anger and a hope at forgiveness. I rested a hand on his back and the sobs increased—the pain of a lifetime finally being set free. My tears were no longer about my pain, but about the pain he had experienced and the anger and hatred I’d felt for him for so long. I never understood the sort of love my father had for my mother until the light, until Jonah. I probably still did not understand, but I understood more.
***
The meadow and path were now alive with color; the wildflowers Charlotte had planted were bursting from the warm earth. I felt a gentle stirring in my heart and knew my mother and brother were with me and would be waiting for my return.
As we passed my parents’ house, my only thought was one of longing. I longed to stay. I longed to be with Jonah. To be safe and comfortable with the man I loved, for the rest of my life. The reality of being away from him, of maybe never seeing him again, threatened to overwhelm me. I inhaled and stared at the sky. The clouds were black and building. I wanted to crumple like a small child who had just lost the most important thing in the world to her. I wanted to jump from the truck, to go to him, to beg him to love me, to beg him to choose me.
But that would do no good.
He wanted something different, felt called to something different.
I couldn’t stop the tears as I thought of him, of not being able to say goodbye to him. Perhaps it was better. There was no room for misinterpretation, no room for hope, nothing left to hang on to.
The truck slowed as we turned from the safety of our home onto the paved county road. The road smoothed, and our speed increased as we drove toward the unknown. The wind dried my tears as fast as they formed. I watched through blurry eyes as the weathered gray fence of my family’s property sped by.
My body jerked hard forward and backward. My hand flew to the tailgate to keep my head from slamming against it. East twisted forward, pistol in hand. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands, not wanting my friends to see the tears. I sniffed and turned to see why we’d stopped.
I gasped. Jonah slid from Fulton. Eli, on Talin, took the reins as Jonah released them. The horses were breathing heavy, their coats damp with sweat and their backs free of saddles. Eli nodded at me and his sister, the slightest smile on his lips when he saw the shock on my face. Jonah—his eyes red—carried his spear. My friends and I turned to stare at him as he walked toward the truck and lowered the tailgate. I continued staring in disbelief as he slid the spear into the bed and climbed onto the truck, sitting across from me. He knelt and pulled the tailgate back into place. He turned and looked first at his sister and then at me.
“Welcome aboard,” she said, amused.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning his head against the wooden slats of the truck.
A moment later the truck shifted gears and began to move forward. Jonah said nothing as he watched Talin, Fulton, and Eli disappear into the distance.
I stared at him, but he said nothing.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, yelling above the rumbling of the truck and the wind.
“I, I, ah ….” He swallowed and shook his head. “My brother was right.”
“Which one?” I asked, my eyes squinting … trying to understand what he was saying, trying to understand why he raced Fulton on bareback to get to us.
“Eli,” he answered.
“Right about what?”
He looked down and then back at me. “I was letting fear control me.”
“Fear of what?”
I knew East was listening. It would be impossible for her not to hear our conversation. But she didn’t turn her head or even glance in our direction.
“That’s not important right now. Someday it might be, but not today,” he said, his voice soft, as soft as it could be to rise above the wind.
I wanted to ask him more, but instead I leaned my head against the wooden slats of the truck and tried to suppress the hope building inside me.
Ten
My car stood exactly as I’d left it four months ago. The tires were flatter and the red paint was difficult to see under the layers of dust and dirt, but otherwise it was the same. It was surreal seeing it there, unchanged. A piece of my past from a world that no longer existed. Yet seeing my car made my mind doubt that that world was gone. My heart and mind jumped back to that time. I thought of who I was when the light flashed. I thought of Trent. I hoped he was okay. As unhealthy as our relationship was, I felt no anger toward him. It took two to create what we had together, and I accepted some of the responsibility for the way things were. I know now I deserved better, but perhaps he did too.
We passed Jonah’s car, or maybe East’s. I never knew whose it was and never saw it before now, but it had to be theirs. It was less than three hundred yards behind my car. It was small and beige, with peeling paint and rust spots. The contrast was striking. My car had cost a small fortune. My father always made sure I had the best that he could buy and he could buy whatever he wanted. Few people had cars in Manhattan. Traffic was outrageous and the cost of parking exorbitant. But I wanted a car, so he bought me one that would make a statement.
I shook my head. As much as I missed the comforts of my old life, I didn’t miss the father I had or the person I was. I’d changed, for the better, and so had he. All of the outside things had faded away; what was left was me.
Sara didn’t stop as we passed car after car. Their drivers gone. Disappeared into the woods of the interstate. I watched the trees as we drove: new green leaves popping out, filling in the gaps left by winter. Looking at the woods, I wondered what lay on the other side. Towns, homes, people. I wondered what they would think if they saw a working car. Would they be as shocked as we all were when Sara first started it up?
The sun had moved only a little, when we came to a stop in front of a gray minivan. I stared at the three car seats filling the back of it. Where had those children gone? I forced my eyes to move away from the car seats. From the rearview mirror hung a small cross. I swallowed hard, trying not to think of the family that had been in this car when the light flashed. Trying not to wonder if the children had survived the winter. And the parents?
Sara used the long rubber hose to connect the minivan’s tank to the truck’s gas tank that was below her sea
t.
“Come on, Bria. You need to get out of the truck and walk around for a minute,” Blaise said, hitting my foot, trying to bring me back to the present.
I moved my eyes to hers and scooted forward, out of the truck. I stood with my back to the minivan, refusing to see it. I looked up. The clouds were getting darker and larger in the midday sky. They moved quickly as the wind attempted to move my braid. I lowered my gaze to the woods beyond the interstate. The new green leaves whipped wildly in the wind, holding tight to the branches.
The clouds slipped along and the sun’s rays bounced off something deep in the trees. I shielded my eyes and moved from its direct line.
“What’s that?” I said, pointing.
Everyone came to attention. The two who had guns, East and Blaise, held them at the ready. Blaise was the best shot and, so, had the rifle with a scope. She looked through it, searching the trees.
She pulled the scope from her eyes. A look of horror came over her. Josh went to her, placing his hand on her back, with concern in his eyes.
“What did you see?” Jonah asked, staring first at the trees, then at Blaise, and back at the trees.
“A plane … a big one … it crashed,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Anything else?” East said, confusion in her voice.
“No,” Blaise said, shaking her head. “I hadn’t thought about the planes … about all the people on the planes.” She leaned against the truck and looked up the interstate, away from the plane that had become the tomb of hundreds.
“Come on. I took all the gas from this car,” Sara said, pulling the rubber tube from the tank.
Through the Ashes (The Light Book 2) Page 5