For a brief moment, I almost let my sorrow get the best of me and let her slip away, but something grabbed me inside. I stepped into her path. “Myra, that’s not good enough. I’m not giving up on you. Or Zadok. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make things right.”
She started walking away again. I grabbed her arm. “I’m serious.”
She twisted. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Dinner. I want you to come over for dinner. Three days from now, all right?”
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise.”
“All right. Tell Zadok to come too.”
“Sure.” She spun around and started walking again. This time I let her go.
Damaris approached not long after. “Are you all right?”
“Not really.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“No. But I will anyway.”
She smiled, then listened as I explained.
“I’m sorry it didn’t go better.”
“Me too. But at least she talked to me. That has to mean something.”
“Tyrus, are you actually looking on the bright side?” she teased.
“Yeah. Zadok has told me more than once I don’t do that nearly often enough. Perhaps I should start giving both my children the credit they deserve.”
CHAPTER 52
Days and nights passed slowly while Ava remained in relative solitude. She spent the majority of her time in thought while riding at the back of a wagon bound and under constant guard. Her only reprieve to stretch her legs coincided with the time given to satisfy nature’s call. Even then she was not given complete privacy, forced to relieve herself with the barest of concealment and her guards less than ten feet away.
Once each day they allowed Margo to inspect her wound, but that time was hurried by the same guards, giving them little time for any real conversation.
No one else spoke to her unless necessary. Surprisingly, she was content with the time to herself, free of the various responsibilities that had recently burdened her. She seized on that time, doing her best to fully understand and process all that had occurred over the last several months.
Unfortunately, her best was not enough.
Ava made little peace with herself, unable to reconcile her answers to the questions repeating in her mind. She had gone over every conversation and interaction with Danso dozens of times, yet she was no closer to discerning the truth behind his story to Kamau.
Was everything he said about me, himself, and Tyrus really a lie in order to gain my loyalty? My obedience?
Then there was the loss of so many Turine volunteers whose lives she had taken personal ownership over.
How could I have failed them so badly? How do I explain that failure to those in Kasala should I actually find a way to get out of this? Did Danso affect my decision-making?
She just didn’t know.
CHAPTER 53
Three days later and I was anxious beyond measure.
“Do I need to take the bread out?” I asked.
“I already took it out. Don’t you smell it?” asked Damaris.
“What about the meat? Is it burning?”
“No. It’s cooling on the counter beside the bread.”
“Oh.”
I walked around the table I had set, picking up a cup to examine. Noticing a spot, I went to a basin of water.
“What are you doing?” Damaris asked.
“I saw a spot.”
She came over and looked at the cup. “That’s not a spot, its discoloration. It’s fine.”
I studied the cup. “We should get a new cup. What about—”
“Tyrus! Please just sit down. The way you keep analyzing every little thing is making me a nervous wreck.”
“I’m sorry. I just want everything to be perfect. It’s taken every ounce of patience to give them three days.”
Damaris set the cup down and came over to me, putting her arms around my waist. “I know this has been hard on you, but as much as you want it to be, this isn’t going to be a perfect night. You know that as much as I do. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment. Try to relax and let the night unfold as it will.”
I took a slow breath. “I’ll try. Gods, they might not even come. I was expecting them by now.”
“Give them time,” said Damaris.
“How much time is needed to walk a few feet?”
She hugged me tight until she felt me relax.
She had continued to stay with me. Myra and Zadok slept at her place. I thought that meant I’d see them regularly. However, they remained adept at avoiding me.
My head spun at the sound of footsteps on the porch and a knock at the door. I froze.
“Well?” Damaris asked.
“I-I can’t move.”
“Then just stand there,” said Damaris. “I’ll get it.”
She raised herself up on her toes to kiss me on the lips, then walked to the door and opened it.
“Myra, I’m so happy to see you. Please, come in.”
“Thank you. I brought this.”
“Pie?” said Damaris. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t make it. I bought it from Lemuel’s wife. She’s started baking some local sweets out of her house. She’s thinking of opening a bakery.”
Damaris closed the door after Myra stepped inside. My daughter looked at me funny as I stood frozen in the kitchen.
“I’ve missed you,” was all that came out of my mouth.
She answered, “Sorry, I’m late. I was working on the eastern towers and lost track of time. Then I still had to get cleaned up and get the dessert.”
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” I started toward her, longing to give her a hug.
She must have sensed it for she hurried over to an empty chair and plopped down. “So what’s for dinner? I’m starved.”
I stopped midstride as Damaris answered. “Slow-braised goat. Steamed vegetables. And honeyed bread.”
Myra clicked her tongue in surprise. “My mother used to make braised goat with coriander. It was one of my favorite dishes as a little girl. I haven’t had it in years.”
“Your father told me. He insisted on making the goat himself.”
Myra looked up at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Really? I didn’t think you knew how to cook it. Or that you’d remember it from so long ago.”
I took a seat at the table and smiled, trying to build on a potential conversation. “I wanted to do something special for you tonight.”
She looked down. “Well, let’s eat then.”
I frowned. “Shouldn’t we wait for Zadok?”
“He’s not coming.”
“Did you tell him he was invited?”
“Of course I did,” she said, her tone slightly irritated.
“I thought he’d come with you then.”
“I told you he likely wouldn’t.”
“I was just hoping . . .” my voice trailed off.
Damaris interjected. “I can wrap up some food for you to take to him later. Let’s focus on who’s here instead.”
She casually touched my arm as she passed, encouraging me to relax before taking her seat. As she did, Myra filled her plate with food.
“I’ve really missed you,” I said, unsure where to take the conversation.
“You said that already,” Myra muttered under her breath.
Gods-be-damned.
I looked to Damaris for help. She nodded to my plate. I took her meaning. Quit trying to force something. Eat and see what happens.
I ate mechanically, slow by my standards with my stomach too knotted to have much of an appetite. I tried to fill the silence among us several times, but my questions elicited no more than short respo
nses from Myra.
Damaris took the lead, asking Myra about work, weather, and other mundane things. It wasn’t exactly what I had hoped the conversation would be like, but it was better than nothing, and it got my daughter talking. I tried to interject myself more than once, but each time it brought their discussion to a halt. Eventually, I decided to just sit back and listen. At least I was in the same room as my daughter.
Later, after Myra and Damaris shared a private joke, I decided once more to initiate some sort of discussion with my daughter.
“How did you like the goat?”
She shrugged. “Nowhere near as good as Ma’s.”
My shoulders drooped a bit. “I didn’t think it was either. But you liked it, right? You had two helpings.”
“I was hungry. I could have eaten just about anything to be honest.”
“Oh.”
There was a small pause between us before Damaris said. “Myra, I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“What?” Myra and I said at the same time.
Damaris stood and began clearing the table. “I’ve tried my best to be neutral in this because I understand where both of you are coming from. But I can’t sit here any longer as she continues to make you feel awful over and over for every little thing while you’re doing your best to mend the situation.” She turned to Myra with a stern look. “If you’re going to continue to look for ways to hurt your father and make him feel worse than he already does, then you can go.”
Myra stood. “Have you ever thought that he deserves to feel worse?”
“No, wait! Sit down,” I said while reaching out to Myra. Then to Damaris, “This isn’t—”
Both ignored me. Damaris blocked Myra’s path as my daughter stormed toward the door. “Have you thought about how childish you’re being? How stupid—”
“I am not a child! Nor am I stupid!” said Myra, puffing herself up. That cold stare she inherited from me washed over her face.
The stare slid right off Damaris just as mine had. She puffed herself up just as large. I stood there amazed at how the two women most important to me in my life could appear more intimidating than many a man I had served with.
“Then show me. You can’t even discuss food civilly. Every time you glance at him, you wear a disgusted look and roll your eyes. Those are things that children do.”
“He hurt me,” she gritted out. “Don’t you understand that?”
Damaris snapped back. “Of course I do. Do you think you’re the first daughter in the history of the world whose father has disappointed them, hurt them, or lied to them? In fact, if I recall, you were upset with him at one point not that long ago. You gave him a chance then. Give him a chance now.”
Myra’s resolve faltered a bit. “That was different. I was wrong then. It wasn’t his fault that he left to go to war. He is wrong now.”
“Yes, you were wrong, and he didn’t just give up on you, did he? I promise you that not many fathers would be sitting here now trying to do what Tyrus is right now. Just like he tried to make it up to you when it wasn’t his fault, he’s trying again now that it is. Most fathers would have had enough and simply passed blame to their kids for not understanding.”
“But I can’t just forget—”
“I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to forgive.”
“That’s not any easier. It takes time to forgive someone.”
“I know. But you can still say the words.”
“Why? They won’t mean anything.”
“Maybe not now, but if you say them enough, one day they will.”
“Saying them without meaning will be a lie, one no better than those he told me and Zadok.”
“No. Because deep down I think you want to forgive him. It just takes time and effort.”
Myra reset her jaw. “Maybe I don’t want to mend anything.”
Damaris sucked her teeth. “I don’t believe that for one second.”
“Then you’re wrong.”
“Then why show up tonight at all? If you tell me that you don’t love your father and don’t want him in your life, then I don’t know you at all.”
Myra paused. “What if you don’t? What if you never have?”
There was a long pause as the two stared at each other. I wanted to speak, but all I could do was listen, for not a single word that would make the situation any better came to me.
Finally, Damaris said softly. “You’ve had a rough life. You lost a mother and had a father you went most of your life without knowing. Do you really want to lose him forever?” She took a deep breath. “I know our situations are not the same, but my mother died young, and I lost my father not long ago. I’d do just about anything to have him back for one more day, even if that day was one where I was just as angry at him as you are with Tyrus.”
Damaris walked away from Myra and went back to clearing the table. My daughter stood there quiet, not speaking. I remained in pretty much the same state.
I wanted to say how it wasn’t fair of Damaris to use that card against her, but then again I knew she spoke from the heart and it touched me how much she had stood up for me. I also knew that Damaris’s words had reached Myra on some level, so the last thing I wanted to do was interrupt her processing them.
Myra went to the door, flung it open, left, and slammed it behind her.
I cried out, “Wait!” but my plea was ignored.
I wasn’t surprised. She was too much like me. When someone gave me a reasonable ultimatum, I’d been known to take the opposite stance simply out of spite.
I fell back into my chair and slouched, dumbfounded.
Damaris set the dishes down and stepped lightly behind me. She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”
I touched her hands and leaned back into her. “I’m not upset with you. I appreciate you trying. This is all my doing, not yours.”
She squeezed me tighter and remained there until we both started at the sound of hissing voices, a yell, and heavy footsteps that banged on my porch. The door shot open and Zadok came tumbling inside, falling to the floor as if thrown. He was dressed in his nightclothes, his curly hair disheveled. Myra entered a step behind and slammed the door closed.
“Have you gone mad?” Zadok yelled at her. “I was asleep, and I told you I didn’t want to come.”
“And now you’re awake and here.” She pointed. “Go sit down.”
I sat there blinking as Zadok turned to glare at me. “He put you up to this?”
“No,” said Myra.
“I told you I didn’t want to talk to him.”
“Then don’t,” she snapped. “But you can sit down and eat while we talk. And you can start coming over with me from now on too. If nothing else, the food is free.”
He stood slowly, straightening himself to emphasize his height over her, thrusting his ever-widening shoulders back. He looked more a man all the time.
“Are you going to make me?” he asked defiantly.
Myra’s voice went cold. “I made you tonight, didn’t I?”
“Only because I was asleep.”
She snorted. “You’ve still got a long way to go before you can take me.”
They glared at each other a long moment, then Zadok finally gave in. “Fine. I’ll sit. You’re not the one I’m really angry with.”
They both took places at the table. Damaris and I still had yet to move. In shock, all we could do was breath.
Myra glanced my way, then cleared her throat, “I forgive you, Pa.”
My heart missed a beat.
I knew she didn’t mean it completely yet, but she said the words. She made the effort. She didn’t want to lose me. And based on her actions of dragging Zadok over, she didn’t want him to lose me either.
My son tried to keep his gaze on the t
able before him, but I caught him flicking his eyes in my direction as if assessing my condition himself. The gesture wasn’t nearly as overt as Myra’s statement, but I took his interest as a positive as well.
Still standing behind me, Damaris game my shoulders a squeeze. “Let me get some plates and the dessert.”
She returned a moment later and sat to dole out the pie.
Damaris looked to Zadok first while gesturing with the knife to where she’d cut. “Is this a big enough piece?”
The question managed to pry a response from him. “Yes. Thank you.”
The tension was thick, the anger and sadness pronounced, but we were all together.
I smiled because we all loved each other. The thought of our love washed away all doubt that eventually we’d overcome the barriers between us.
Ever since I had left for war, all I had wanted in life was to return home. Though the definition of home had changed drastically through circumstance and time, I realized in that awkward moment, I had finally made it back.
CHAPTER 54
Weeks later, the city of Batna welcomed the returning army with the fanfare Ava and Tyrus had once dreamed of receiving after the Geneshan War. Thinking about how poorly Denu Creek had welcomed her brother’s return roused bitter emotions in Ava’s heart, heightening her already dark mood.
The one shining positive to the entire experience of traveling through the cheering throng of Southern Kingdom citizens lining the streets was that so many were thrilled at the army’s return, they failed to notice her hunched in the back of the wagon, shackled.
Eventually, the driver of her wagon veered off the parade route, stopping in front of the hexagonal council building. Guards hurried her inside, lead her down several twisting corridors and staircases, and deposited her in a dark, windowless cell.
“How soon before the council will decide my fate?” she asked the guards.
Neither gave her question so much as a moment of consideration, slamming the door shut as if she hadn’t spoken.
The old Ava would have raged at such a response, shouting curses until her throat was raw, building up sorcery and lashing out so someone would suffer for the slight.
Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four Page 47