“Nothing I’ve seen in war changes people for the better. Look at what happened to our parents.”
“The wars before were not our fights. They belonged to our parents. But this one is ours. It lies squarely on our shoulders, the responsibility to protect our children and their futures. What should we wait for? There’s no one coming to save us. And the government won’t change unless they’re forced to by the will of the people. It’s up to us.”
A squirrel rustled in the underbrush, drawing Sam’s attention absently for a moment.
“I don’t want to see the children inherit a war like we did.”
“If we handle it right, they won’t. They’ll inherit freedoms we never had.”
“Freedom,” he exhaled sharply. “Freedom I couldn’t find in keeping the law or in going beyond the borders or going to a work camp.” Gemma flinched at his mention of a painful memory for them both. “Can I ask you something, Gemma? I’m not hung up on it or anything, I just need to know. Why didn’t you send someone from the Watch to find me? In all those years you thought I was dead? Why didn’t you make sure?”
“It was easier not to know, I guess. Besides, how did I know that you hadn’t found someone else too?”
“You knew better than that.”
“No, I didn’t. You’ve always been so hell-bent on ‘the code.’ You could have picked up someone else to take care of just like you did with me and Kyle.”
“And now it’s you who takes care of Kyle instead.”
“It’s not like that with us.”
“What is it like? Is he the same?”
“I don’t know. You know, I wonder now if I’ve ever really known him. Or if I ever knew you, for that matter. How much can people ever really know each other?”
“I doubt anybody knows him. Hard to know someone who can change sides at the drop of hat.”
Gemma felt her anger at Kyle still for his petty jealousies, but she knew he would never betray her. Not really. And somehow, she felt responsible for defending his honor to Sam. “What if he didn’t change sides? What if he was always on our side?”
“The only side that Kyle knows is Kyle’s side. He serves himself first and always.”
“I wish you two could be friends again. I think it would be good for you both.”
“Not likely. Look, I’m sorry, Gemma. I have to go. Good luck with the kids and everything.”
Sam walked past the cabin, not going back in. “Ethan! Time to go, boy!” He walked quickly down the path, knowing Ethan would follow.
“Sorry, I lost track of time, Sam,”
“Want to join the Watch, do you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know how I feel about it. But if you think you’re old enough to make that decision on your own, I won’t stop you. I do expect you to be upfront with me, though, and not go sneaking around behind my back, understood?”
“Understood.”
“So, it looks like you made some new friends today.”
“Toby was there, the boy I told you about who taught me the code. And I like that Daisy. We were reading Peter Pan, the story with the Lost Boys.”
“Huh,” Sam smiled. “That’s a funny coincidence.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m happy for you, boy. It’s important to have friends your own age, I suppose.” Sam tousled Ethan’s hair, and the boy knew he was forgiven. “I haven’t been much fun for you, have I?”
“You and Sophie are nice. She plays with me sometimes, and I like to listen to her play the piano.”
“Even still, friends are more of a necessity than I realize sometimes.”
Ethan took Sam’s hand. He didn’t want him to feel bad, especially since he’d found the only home he could remember with Sam and Sophie.
“Did you get any good pictures today?”
“I think so. Tried to get some fish, but they wouldn’t stay still.”
Sam laughed at the idea of trying to keep a wriggling fish still enough for a photograph.
Parting the branches in silence, Kyle leaned his rifle on one of the larger ones to steady it. He looked down the barrel, holding his prey in his sights. The gun felt cool against his hot cheek. His body held the midday summer heat after running. He’d had to move quickly to reach his spot after Sam left Gemma at the cabin. Listening to their conversation had given him much of the information he’d wanted to know, and he’d been rewarded for his efforts. He was a little surprised at how easy Gemma had made it for him to follow her, and he felt a stab of guilt realizing she must actually trust him. He held his breath and squeezed the trigger in confidence, knowing he’d hit his mark.
11
COMMUNION AND DIVISION
S am tromps with his friend deeper into the waist-high underbrush. “Come on, Kyle. I saw them here just the other day. I want to surprise Gemma with berries for dessert.”
The ivy and moss-entombed branches allow for no brown in the rich landscape. It speaks of age and rains long past yet still nourishing.
“We’re getting too close to the Corsair base, Sam. We should turn back.”
“Just a bit farther. They’re by the river just ahead.”
Sam tries to break into a run but is slowed by clinging branches that trip him up. Kyle laughs at him sprawled on the ground before him. Sam enjoys the few times he’s made Kyle laugh. He nearly falls into the blackberry bushes when they escape the tangle of the woods. Kyle stops. His face says he’s listening intently for danger. He hears them before Sam does. Corsairs.
“Sam, listen to me. They’re coming. They’ll be here any second. They’re going to want me, not you. I led the raid on the camp. Get in the river and stay underwater.”
“No, I won’t leave you. Let them just try to take us both.”
“We don’t have time for this. Do what I say.”
“No, I can . . .”
Kyle pushes him into the river, stopping the argument. “Stay down!” he hisses before the Corsairs on horseback surround him.
Rippling water stirs the light through Kyle’s ginger hair as Sam holds his breath beneath the surface. His brain is counting the seconds and the soldiers. One, two, three . . . seven, eight, nine. Too many to fight. The horses look like ancient monsters. The Corsairs are pulling Kyle onto a horse. Why isn’t he fighting? A minute feels like ten. Sam’s lungs ache. He thinks they will explode if he’s not allowed to release his breath and gasp for another. Two minutes. The horse monsters are turning. Kyle’s colors are fading into the trees. Sam waits another thirty seconds before bursting through the surface of the river.
The shot cracked in Sam’s ear just as a bird landed directly at his feet. “Holy shit!” He grasped Ethan by the arm, pulling the boy behind him from where he heard the shot originate. The bushes rustled before the shooter emerged, making Sam wish he was carrying the pistol Zacharias had given him.
“Kyle, what the hell?! You could have killed somebody.”
“You know my skills better than that, don’t you, Sam? I always hit what I’m aiming for.”
“And just what were you aiming for?”
“This grouse, of course.” He held it up in triumph. “I thought I’d surprise Gemma with a little something special for dinner.”
“Oh, really? You, of all people, just casually carrying a gun and breaking the law?”
“Look, I’ve been worried about her since the rations were cut again. She’s not getting enough to eat. I considered it a medical necessity, not just fun.”
“Very well. Come on, Ethan.”
“No, wait, Sam, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Can’t we at least try to be friends again? I mean, what exactly do you hold against me?”
“How can you ask that? You joined the enemy. You became one of them.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice. You were there, Sam. You saw them take me. We were surrounded.”
“Maybe. Maybe it was ju
st easier for you not to fight or not to run. Maybe you liked the idea of having a full belly for a change. I don’t know what you were thinking.”
“But you do know I tried to save you. You do remember that part, don’t you?”
Sam grunted a reluctant affirmation.
“Is it that I left or that I came back that bothers you the most, Sam?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me. It does when I’m trying to build bridges and you’re trying to light them on fire.”
“The bridges were burned a long time ago.”
“Then help me rebuild them.” Kyle put his hand out, his eyes asking Sam to accept it.
“I wish I could believe you, Kyle.”
“Try. Come to dinner tonight with me and Gemma. It’ll be like old times.”
“I can’t. I have somewhere I have to be. Truly.”
“Then maybe another time?”
“Maybe.” Sam slowly reached out and gripped Kyle’s hand. It felt strange to be this close in proximity to him after so many years, to hold the hand which used to be as familiar to him as his own, but to find only a foreign entity in the calloused palm. Nothing felt the same as it used to, and he was sure nothing ever could.
* * * * *
Sam and Ethan fit very well on the little farm by the sea. Sophie started to forget there was ever a time when they hadn’t been there. They were so native to their surroundings that she imagined them springing up from the ground like one of the many flowering plants that had shot up in the spring. The partridge berry and wisteria were no more original to the land than Sam and Ethan. Sophie’s stomach churned and tightened a little at the thought of leaving the two of them behind to go on her mission, but she knew well the necessity of her task. If things went as planned, she’d only be gone for a few days, a week at most. Her time with Sam on the farm had happened so naturally, there had been no need for a conversation addressing the future, but she wondered now if it was time to discuss long-term plans. She knew she had to ask him to stay while she was gone, although it was possible the O’Dells would help out on the farm if necessary. But she wished she and Sam could understand each other enough that such a conversation wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he would just offer to stay. She wondered if he felt the same caring feelings toward her that she had for him, or if all these months he’d only stayed because of the code. When so much of her daily life focused on survival, it was hard to imagine or ask for more. Shouldn’t she be grateful to be one of the ones left alive? Or was that enough?
* * * * *
Sam listened to the secrets told from the aspens to the willows. Secrets of sinking roots and liberating breezes. A blush seemed to darken the bark of a young willow whose branch had just been brushed by another tree. Or was it just a shadow? The air around him felt different, more charged with energy leading to these fancies whenever he stepped on Sophie’s land. He wondered if this was always the case from the first day he arrived. Was it something particular to the spot or to the woman who inhabited it?
A craggy voice interrupted his reverie. “Sam! Sam, my boy, take a step over here and come sit a spell with me,” Mrs. O’Dell called from her front porch.
“Run along, Ethan, and tell Sophie we’re back. I’ll be along directly.”
Mrs. O’Dell settled herself into a rocking chair and motioned for Sam to take one as well. “Can I fetch you a glass of something? Cider, maybe? It’s certainly a hot day.”
Sam remained standing on the steps. “No thank you, Mrs. O’Dell.”
“You’ve been here a fair piece, haven’t you, my boy?”
“Yes, ma’am, I suppose I have.”
“How long has it been?”
“A few months, I suppose.”
“So it is, so it is. I reckon from keeping my ear to the ground that there’ll be another war starting soon enough. I suppose you’ll be joining up with many another young man.”
“No, I don’t have any intention . . .”
“I know. I know. So you say. They always say. But something always calls them to the fight, says I. Either way, you’ll be leaving here by and by. And I just don’t know if that sweet lamb could survive mourning somebody else.”
“Do you mean . . .”
“Take it for what it’s worth. But a woman can see the look in another woman’s eyes. She’s becoming attached. And I’m not altogether sure that’s a good thing. Might be time for you to be thinking about moving on.”
Sam considered his words before speaking. Mrs. O’Dell’s insinuations and unsolicited advice had shaken him. He didn’t know what he was more upset about . . . her assumptions about his relationship with Sophie or her telling him to go. He had no wish to offend the woman in her well-meaning offensive against his personal life. But he also wasn’t one to be dictated to. He wondered if she was right. Had he been selfish in staying so long with Sophie? Had it only been the code? And what of Ethan? He had allowed him to get attached, to start setting down roots. Maybe it would be best for all concerned if he took the boy back to Jesse’s Hollow.
“I’ll certainly think about what you’ve said, ma’am. I must be getting back now to see about the boy.”
“Just so. Just so. I mean no offense, now, son. You know that?”
“I do. Goodbye, Mrs. O’Dell.”
* * * * *
Just east of Sophie’s farm, the sea crept ever closer, stealing perhaps an inch a year. Due to an almost imperceptible rise in elevation, there was a short strip of beach that remained exposed when the water was at low tide. It had not fallen beneath the encroaching waves that ate up the eastern shore like a starving man. On this beach Sophie walked in the late evening sunsets which hid behind the trees west of her farm, and on some days, she danced.
When Sam returned from Mrs. O’Dell’s, he found Sophie there. She danced recklessly along the beach with the wild abandon of a child, but not a child from this world. Rather a child from Before, her arms flung wide as if she’d only ever caught good things in them. A child not hampered by fear, war, and the oppressive need for survival above all else. A child who had never had to worry about food or cold. A child who had never had to raise a stick over her head for protection, beating senseless an attacker. A child who had never slept alone in the woods listening to the not-so-distant sound of gunfire, wondering just how long it would take for the soldiers to find her. This kind of child, free from care and worry, would float along as light as a cloud through a summer sky, changing shape before your eyes.
But Sam knew Sophie had experienced all those things and worse and should have been barely mobile under the weight she’d had to carry her whole life. Yet here she was dancing across the beach, throwing off the worries of war and survival—a fairy, a nymph, wind in her hair caressing her in a way that made Sam jealous of the breeze. And in that moment, he saw her and knew her for all the things she was and could be. He saw her passing this freedom and lightness on to her future children. In that moment, he wanted to be a cloud-catcher and ride the sky with her, yet he felt privileged to have been in her presence even for just a moment.
She was one with all around her—the beach, the waves, the air, the taste of salt on his lips, and him. Deep in his bones he knew he’d never be free of her, never again have a moment when she wasn’t in his thoughts and his motivations. She was part of him, but not like Gemma was part of him because of their shared past and memories. She was the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins, and the food that gave him strength. She was all the colors of the sunset as he had once thought, but more. She was the music of morning robins and evening swallows and the trip of the stream down its path, but more still. Sam knew even if he’d ever had the opportunity to be a writer in the time Before, the words would never have been enough to describe her, and his pen would have fallen down in deference to her grace.
He did not move or utter a sound, not wanting to disturb the beautiful reverie. But merely returned to the little gray house to hold his revelati
on close.
* * * * *
Kyle walked into his house, still cool among the trees. He was grateful Gemma had left the windows open, allowing the breeze to dispel any trapped heat in the house. He left the grouse on the porch, its mottled feathers stained with blood. He would clean it and dress it for dinner. He wished it was bigger or that he had been able to find more. But he couldn’t take the chance of firing off more than one shot, which in itself was risk enough.
He’d picked some flowers for the table to add to the effect of the surprise dinner. He wanted to show Gemma that he could be thoughtful too.
Seeing Sam had affected him more than he thought it would. He tried to be sure he could leave the past behind him and do only what needed to be done now in the moment. But how was that possible when he had to draw on the past in order to get through to Sam? So much of their lives was always tied to the past. He wished he could be like the river, moving swiftly forward, always forward, never tripping back to the places it had been before. There was usually such a single-mindedness about Kyle that allowed him to focus on each new necessary task at hand. But something about Sam had unnerved him, jarred his thinking into a direction unplanned and unwanted.
He thought of Gemma and the argument he’d intentionally started earlier, and a feeling, rather than the necessity, weighed on him. Regret and sorrow for hurting her swam in his mind, forcing him to circle a drain that led to nowhere good or useful.
A Light From the Ashes Page 20