by E S Richards
“I’m okay,” Patrick lied. He was far from okay, but Michael didn’t need to hear him whine and cry about his loss. He didn’t want to talk about it anyway. For some it made it easier. For Patrick, it only made things worse. “I mean, I will be. Eventually. If it’s all right with you, I’d rather not talk about it, though to be fair, having this conversation is already making me feel better. Taking my mind off it, you know?”
“Well.” Michael pursed his lips and nodded his head a few times, unsure what to say all of a sudden. “Whatever helps, man.”
“What are your kids’ names?” Patrick asked, eager to keep Michael talking and save himself from getting lost in his thoughts again. Unlike for him, talking about his issues seemed to make Michael feel better and so the chatter made sense for both of them.
“Logan and Lucie.” That wistful smile crossed Michael’s face once more. “Logan’s eleven, Lucie’s nine. She’s a fireball though, doesn’t let Logan get away with anything. She’s going to be be a real ball-breaker when she’s older, I tell you. I feel sorry for whichever man she wraps around her little finger.”
Patrick let out a little laugh, thinking of some of the ways Allie and Tilly had shown those characteristics to him in the past. “She sounds great,” he chuckled. “Where are they now? Your kids? You said your ex moved away?”
“Ah yeah,” Michael’s mood dropped a little. “Be five years ago this Christmas. She went way across state. Portland, Oregon. Wanted to raise the kids near the sea, she said. I don’t blame her really. This little town will never amount to much.”
“That sucks,” Patrick consoled Michael. “Do you get to see them much?”
“I try and get out there once a month, but it’s hard, you know? Especially with the way Mom is now. I can only really go and visit when Angie can look after her, and Sara—that’s my ex, by the way—never wants to come back over here. So it’s less and less these days. Haven’t seen them since the end of April now.”
“Jeez, man, that’s rough.”
“Yeah, I know,” Michael agreed. “I talk to them every week, like over video and stuff, but it’s not really the same. I’m missing out on so much of their childhood, but I just can’t leave my mom.”
“We’re all going to be heading in that direction,” Patrick suggested. “Like, we want to get back to Seattle and Mia said she’d get us there. That’s only a couple hundred miles from Portland. I’m sure you could go there too.”
“Yeah, I have thought about that.” Michael mulled it over in his head. “But like I said, I can’t leave my mom. You’ll understand when we get there. I’ll introduce you to her. I’d love so much to go to my kids right now and to wrap my arms around them, but sadly it’s just not an option.”
Patrick nodded. He could understand what Michael was saying to a degree, but to him the most important thing in the world was his children. His child. While the conversation with Michael had served him well as a distraction, it didn’t take much for Patrick to remember the harsh reality of the situation. His wife and one of his daughters were dead. Allie was all he had left in the world. Although they were heading back to Seattle eventually, there was nothing much there for them except an old house with lots of empty rooms. He couldn’t imagine sleeping in his bed without Harriet by his side, or tucking Allie into bed without Tilly sleeping across from her. Their lives had been changed forever and no amount of creature comforts would ever bring the rest of his family back.
He felt for Michael though. He didn’t want to ask what was wrong with his mother, though Patrick was sure Michael would tell him if he did. It just didn’t seem like his place, and besides, it couldn’t be more than another couple of hours before they would reach the small collection of houses in the distance. Apparently then he would meet Michael and Angelica’s mother for himself and then he would have the explanation.
Looking over at Angelica as she walked—close enough that she could’ve heard and joined in on the conversation but far enough away to suggest that she didn’t want to—Patrick worried about her as well. She was clearly equally as affected by the state of her home as Michael was, though she was dealing with it in a very different way. Her mourning was more like Allie’s, a silent orchestra of emotion trapped inside her. Patrick was uncertain which was worse.
As the minutes passed and they drew ever closer to the houses, Patrick found himself just hoping that too many people hadn’t died. They had all experienced so much loss already and he didn’t think the group could handle much more. He didn’t want Allie to witness any more death. He didn’t want her to be exposed to any more suffering. He couldn’t bear for her to be in pain—though he was sadly certain that she already was. All he could do was hold her hand and wait for everything to be over.
Chapter 5
“Well isn’t this nice?” Jerry stuck his head around the door of the spare back bedroom, finding his wife and two grandchildren in a group on the floor. “What are you all doing?”
All three of them snapped their heads up, each lost in their own thoughts as they reminisced about life before everything that had happened. Yellowstone was just one factor that had affected their family life; losing Brogan and Lauren was undoubtedly more important to everyone.
“Riley found some of our old photo albums.” Linda smiled up at her husband, hoping he would understand from her sentence the gravitas that it carried. “We’ve just been looking through some of the pictures.”
“Ah.” Jerry nodded. He understood. “Well, can I help any of you up? I’ve brewed a pot of coffee downstairs that’s getting cold.”
“Yes,” Chase was on his feet in an instant, wiping his eyes surreptitiously with the back of his sleeve and straightening his posture. “Coffee. That’s exactly what I need. Thanks, Pop.”
“Bring a few mugs up will you, Chase?” Linda asked as she too started to maneuver herself to her feet, though at her age the act of standing was much less fluid and graceful. “I could do with something to warm my bones.”
“Will do,” Chase smiled as he disappeared from the back bedroom, pleased to have a moment to himself to get his head straight. Seeing those old photographs and remembering all the times they had shared with his parents had affected him a great deal. Ever since they’d passed away, he’d been forced to be the strong one, to carry the weight on his shoulders, and to help Riley and his grandparents get through it too. Personally, he felt he hadn’t been afforded much time to grieve, nor had he allowed himself much time to dwell on it all. While he tried to act tough and strong, he knew deep down he was still hurting a huge amount.
“It really is cold up here,” Riley remarked up in the back bedroom. “When do you think we’ll turn the generator on?”
“I think we’ll have to last a little longer like this I’m afraid, kiddo,” Pop patted his granddaughter on the shoulder. “This storm surely can’t go on for much longer. Once it’s passed it won’t feel as cold in this old place.”
“I hope so,” Riley replied half-heartedly. The weather outside had been vile for days now—something she wasn’t in support of at all in the middle of July. They should be outside playing, not stuck inside drinking coffee in the middle of the afternoon. She knew there were factors other than the weather that were responsible for it, but the sight outside didn’t help to bolster any of their moods.
“It’ll pass,” Pop said more confidently this time. “Just give it a few more days. You all settled to move your things in here in the meantime?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Riley shrugged, focusing back on the task at hand and moving her life out of the room she’d always had at her grandparents and into the spare bedroom. “Is the roof still bad in my room?”
“I’d assume so,” Pop guessed. “I was coming up to check on it when I found you all in here, actually. Why don’t we go and see?”
Answering without words, Riley and her grandparents all shuffled out of the back bedroom and made their way down the hall to Riley’s room. The door was closed, but as they
approached, they could all tell that the temperature was dropping even more. The roof had been leaking in it beforehand, but surely it hadn’t fallen in already? Pushing open the door, Riley gasped as she saw just how soaked her room had become, the hole growing in size as the wind and rain buffeted the roof and spilled through into the house.
“Oh no,” Riley whined, lurching forward and picking up her things. “It’s all ruined.”
“No it’s not,” Linda was quickly by her side. “There’s only a few things that are wet and we can dry them out easily enough. Nothing’s ruined, sweetheart; don’t get upset.”
Suddenly it was all too much for Riley, bursting into tears and running out of her bedroom. She knew she wasn’t that upset about what had happened in her room; a few books were wet and her stuffed animals would need a wash, but aside from that nothing was actually ruined. Seeing everything like that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her emotions had been building up inside her for days and while she might have broken down and cried a little in front of Chase, she hadn’t truly let it all out. Now, after having just had all memories of her parents brought back into her mind, there was nothing there to stop the tears from coming.
Riley rushed past her brother on the stairs down to the kitchen, knocking his arm and sending two of the mugs of coffee he carried on a tray tumbling onto the carpet. He yelled out and called her name, but Riley didn’t stop to explain things. He would understand, and it was only coffee.
With her eyes blurring, Riley made her way into the mudroom, flinging open the door and causing the chickens to all jump up and flap their wings in a frenzy. Sobbing she dumped her body down on a bale of hay in their makeshift chicken enclosure and buried her head in her hands. She felt pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. Being strong was hard work and she just needed a few moments to herself to breathe.
“Go away!” Riley shouted as there was a knock on the mudroom door, desperate to just have some time to herself. It didn’t work, the door creaking open anyway and her brother sticking his head around the corner.
“Riley, what’s up? Are you okay?”
Taking a deep breath, Riley lifted her head from her hands and made eye contact with her brother. “Chase, please,” she started, “just give me a minute.”
There was silence between the two siblings for a few seconds as Chase regarded his sister, judging the predicament she found herself in. “All right,” he nodded eventually. “You know where I am if you need me.”
Flashing her brother a grateful smile, Riley exhaled deeply as he withdrew his head from the mudroom and closed the door. Already she felt better. Life was going to be hard from now on, and in reality that wasn’t any different from what she’d been telling herself for the last fifteen months. But it was okay to not be okay all the time. Her mother had told her that from time to time when she was younger: “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to show your emotions. Just because you want to appear strong on the outside doesn’t mean you can’t let yourself be weak on the inside when you need to be.”
Leaning back on the hay bale, Riley’s heart rate finally began to slow. Henrietta, her favorite chicken, brushed up against her leg in what Riley deemed an affectionate manner. She knew the chicken didn’t really have a clue what was going on, but it still made her feel better.
“Oh Henny,” Riley sighed. “I wish my life was as simple as yours.”
Upstairs in Riley’s original bedroom, the other three members of the farmhouse could very well have been wishing the same thing. Chase stood underneath the hole in the ceiling, coffee staining his pants while his grandparents drank the two mugs that had managed to survive the journey upstairs. He was worried about Riley, but he knew she would be okay eventually. The hole in the ceiling above his head worried him more. The coffee may have dampened his pants, but the rain that was lashing down on his T-shirt was much more of a concern.
“This is bad,” he stated the obvious with his hands on his hips. “It’s definitely bigger than it was yesterday.”
“I know,” Jerry agreed, stifling a cough before he continued to speak. “But we can’t get out onto the roof to fix it when the weather’s like this. It’s too dangerous.”
“What about patching it up from the inside?” Chase suggested, walking a few paces to the left to view the hole from a different angle. “Is there any way we could do that?”
“We could try, I guess,” Jerry nodded, putting down his mug of coffee and walking over to where Chase stood. “Well technically,” he corrected himself, “we don’t really have much of a choice. We can’t leave it how it is and we can’t get outside. We’re going to have to patch it up from the inside.”
“Will that work just as well?” Linda asked from the side of the room, busying herself with stacking Riley’s possessions into piles and laying out various pots and buckets around the room to catch the dripping water. Chase had told his grandparents where Riley had gone and they’d all agreed it was just best to give her the time she needed. They knew things were hard for everyone and everyone had the right to deal with their emotions in their own way.
“It won’t be as strong,” Jerry replied as he thought it through. “But it should work. If we can get boards across the hole and stretch a tarp or something waterproof over them then that should suffice until we can get on the roof.”
“Sounds like a job for the two of you,” Linda smiled. “I’ll go and finish up in the back bedroom instead, I think.”
Jerry laughed, rolling his eyes slightly at how his wife always managed to get away without doing the hard labor somehow. To his annoyance, his laugh quickly turned into a cough, hacking at his lungs and forcing him to rest a hand on his grandson’s shoulder for support. The cough was definitely getting worse and in an instant, it zapped all the energy from him. He could feel his legs getting weaker beneath him and his head felt more clouded than before. Jerry wanted to sit down, but his pride wouldn’t let him.
“You all right, Pop?” Chase asked as his grandfather leaned against him, the old man’s body shaking as he coughed.
“I’m fine,” Jerry eventually answered once his airways were clear enough to do so. “Just a little tickle, don’t worry about me.”
Linda loitered in the doorway, her husband’s coughing fit encouraging her to stay behind rather than continue the tasks in the back bedroom like she’d proposed. She tilted her head to one side and tried to assess how he was truly feeling. Jerry had never been one for admitting his weaknesses, always determined to be the best and to appear as strong as possible—especially in front of those he loved. She had gotten very good at reading him over the years and immediately she could tell that he wasn’t as well as he wanted her and Chase to believe.
“I’m fine,” Jerry repeated as he saw Linda looking at him. “Go on and finish in the back bedroom. We’ll manage in here.”
Pursing her lips, Linda gave in to her husband’s wishes and slipped away, keeping her ears pricked for any further coughing fits that came from Riley’s bedroom. Jerry knew his wife and he knew she would still be listening. He smiled at his grandson and pushed away from his sixteen-year-old frame, making his way over to Riley’s slightly damp bed and sitting down there instead.
“I really am fine,” he felt the need to say once more to Chase, keeping his voice low as to not evoke any argument. “I just want to get this over and done with so we can rest this evening.”
Chase also took a second to think about his grandfather’s appearance before responding. He had mixed emotions about it. After everything that had happened outside with Pop forgetting who he was and what he was doing, Chase was reluctant to give him the benefit of the doubt. But then, there was the conversation they’d shared in the basement. At the end of the day, Chase trusted his grandfather and while he was a proud man, they both knew that if and when he truly needed help, he would admit it.
“Okay,” Chase nodded. “What do we need?”
“An old tarp to start,” Jerry answered, glad he didn�
��t have to fight with his grandson over this. “There’s definitely one in the mudroom, though I think it might be in use now. If so, you might have to check out in the barn, I’m afraid. Although, we need wooden boards too and they’re definitely in the barn. Is that okay?”
“Sure thing,” Chase replied. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got the Re-Breather 3000 now, remember? I can just use that if I need to head outside.”
“Ah, of course,” Jerry smiled. “What a brilliant invention, eh?”
“Truly brilliant,” Chase laughed. “I’ll go and check on Riley again as well, see how she’s doing. You need anything else?”
“No, that should about cover it for now.”
“All right,” Chase confirmed. “Back in a flash.”
Leaving Pop sitting alone on Riley’s bed, Chase made his way downstairs. He didn’t have a choice but to trust the old man; it was too much of a task to disagree with him all the time or to challenge his word. Just as with Riley earlier, he knew that everyone needed their own time to deal with things in their own way. He wasn’t going to interrupt that process for anyone; especially as Chase knew that he needed it for himself just as much.
Knocking politely and then poking his head around the mudroom door once more, Chase found Riley in a more positive frame of mind. She was crouched on the ground reaching under their makeshift chicken huts, pulling out eggs that had rolled to the back. There was a smile on her face but as she turned to look at her brother, Chase could tell she had been crying. If she wanted to talk about it, he was there, but he was still going to wait for her to come to him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Riley nodded. “You?”
“Yeah,” Chase repeated. “Just heading out to the barn to get supplies to fix your roof. You need anything?”
“Naw,” Riley shook her head. “I’m good. Thanks, Chase.”
“Any time,” Chase smiled at his sister, hoping that she knew how deeply he meant it. He was there for her no matter what. It was going to take more than what had happened to tear his family apart any further.