Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1)

by Marie F. Crow

  “I said if you wanted a tree, I would get you a tree. There is your damn tree,” J.D. pants around his words. “The rest is on you.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Chapel echoes his agreement to being done. “Well, this went well I see,” Marxx’ deep voice arches the panting men’s eyebrows with their answer for him.

  Paula had said he was waiting for us and here he is. Marxx is holding a tree stand that has seen better days. I think it may have seen better centuries with the amount of rust and misshapen pieces in his hand.

  “We found it in storage,” Dolph answers the doubts, which must have been showing upon my face.

  He steps over the large tree where the men had dropped it. It blocks the entrance to the room and Dolph stares at the tree stand with disbelief and mild amusement. When reinforcements arrive to further the tree escapades, Richard and Simon share the same look as Dolph.

  “What did you do, pick the biggest one out there?” Richard is eyeing the heap of an evergreen on the floor with as much faith in the tree stand as I hold.

  Lawless and Chapel both point at Aimes simultaneously, and her face expands with the shock of being outed so bluntly.

  “It looked smaller outside,” she tries to defend her tree selection among the many annoyed stares.

  “They always do. That’s why I don’t go naked in the forest,” Rhett says, letting us know he is back and as charming as ever.

  “And eyehook…,” Aimes recovers the conversation for us all with an exaggerated eye roll aimed at him.

  Paula and Shelia join Aimes and myself from our safe vantage point to watch the comedy show. The tree may be down, but it has far from lost its fight. Each struggle draws more words from the men’s mouths until they are just one giant, long string of amusements for those of us watching. How many men does it take to screw a tree into a tree stand? Don’t know. Ask me again in an hour.

  Chapter 46

  You still see them, don’t you?” Chapel’s eyes pierce my soul as he watches my face for a reaction to his question.

  I give him nothing. My eyes lock on the tree now centered in the middle of the third floor’s common area. The couches have been positioned to either side of the massive evergreen, allowing a view to be shared by all with the hopes of lifting spirits with its sight. Nothing quite says Christmas like the many shared curse words and explosive tempers that decorating can bring.

  “I sometimes think I can hear Kay. You know, right before I wake up, I think I hear her laughter or footsteps around me. When I open my eyes, she is never there,” Chapel almost whispers to me.

  His eyes are now staring at the tree also. It has become a navigation beacon for us both to guide us through the conversation. I just hope it’s large enough to guide us back home after we travel the depths of where he is leading us.

  “Back at the cabin,” he continues, “I used to lie there just keeping my eyes closed. I was too afraid to open them. Too afraid she may actually be there and hoping she would be at the same time. Now, I just wake up as fast as I can to make her go away.”

  Chapel sighs with a weight lifted off of his shoulders. The family man has been hiding the fact he wants the memory of his daughter to go away and it has been soul-searing. I should comfort him. I know I have the words to apply the balm to his wounds, but my mouth is locked, keeping my secrets safe.

  “I swear sometimes, just sometimes when I am alone, I can smell Trina’s perfume. She always had this one brand she would wear. I can’t remember the name of it, but the smell. That smell I can,” he sighs with the memory.

  “Like her baby shampoo,” I hear the words escape from their confinement of my mouth, shocking us both.

  “Yeah, like her baby shampoo,” is all he says.

  It is all he has to say. I have confirmed exactly what he is asking me. He does not need my details. He just wanted to know he is not alone in his torment.

  I can feel his eyes staring at me, but still I keep watch on the tree like a sailor with the North Star. I can feel the seas churning underneath me. Waves threaten to topple my fragile ship with their power. If I take my eyes from the tree, all will be lost.

  “Looks kind of bare,” I say, with an attempt to pull his eyes back to the monster of the holidays standing before us and away from me.

  “I’m not telling them.” Chapel does a half laugh remembering how much joy the tree has brought the men already. The sound of it brings the mood to a different level.

  “Let’s get Aimes too.” I smile with the thought of throwing her under the bus, or in this case, a Harley.

  “You two work all of your shit out?”

  My eyebrow rises hearing his slip of vocabulary. Someone has been with the boys a little too much.

  “Minute by minute,” I tell him. It is the best answer I have for our situation.

  “You and Law?”

  The mood has dropped again along with the volume of his voice. “Second by second.”

  Even as my soul aches for his comfort, my heart is still too sore to fully trust Lawless’ smile. One moment, I want to run into his arms and beg him to return to how things were between us. The next, I want to steal Chapel’s gun again and make him beg me. It really is a fifty-fifty style of moments for me. My outbursts are legendary people. Legendary.

  “You and Rhett?” He stares at me again, and I stare back at him, confused by his question.

  How many people have issues with me?

  “I didn’t know Rhett and I had problems to work out?”

  It may have been a statement, but it sounds way more unsettling as a question.

  Chapel says nothing. He just stares at me with his soul-searching eyes waiting on me to find my own conclusion. The son of a Preacher has learned a few tricks from his part-time father. It always amazes me how we all do. His eyes hold me grounded in his question while my mind races with it. He will not help me confess my sins, but he will wait until I do.

  “You mean our flirting?” I almost whisper the question, hoping I am on the right track.

  He still offers me nothing but his eyes.

  “It’s nothing. Just harmless fun,” I say, and my eyes swing back to the tree with hopes to avoid his stare.

  Where is that divider to slide between the sinner and the priest when I need it?

  “Is that what you think?” Chapel stands, stretching his tight shoulders from the weight of handling the tree today.

  He glances one more time down at me with those confessing eyes before he walks away, leaving me feeling judged. The Pope could take lessons from him. That is, if the Pope is still alive. I wonder if God protects his flock when the Devil comes to play, or do they get a pat on the back and a going away hand basket like the rest of us?

  His question leaves me spinning with thoughts and doubts. Rhett is harmless with his flirting. There is not a lot to combine harmless and Rhett together in, but this, I feel safe saying. The only feelings he has ever held for me is those of mild amusement for the ability to go toe-to-toe with him in his games. I am a child in his very dark, grown-up world, but the world has changed now. Has it changed other things as well?

  “You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that and there ain’t no Mary Kay out here baby,” Aimes says and startles me from my thoughts with her very ungraceful body flop onto the couch beside me.

  “Ding-dong, zombie calling.”

  “That’s Avon. Don’t mess with my branding here, woman.” “Why? Because you are worth it?”

  “Seriously, some rudeness simmering in your sauce.” “American by birth. Rebel by choice.”

  “Okay, I don’t even know where you are pulling from now, but you are starting to scare me.”

  “Between love and madness, lies Obsession.” “Really, white flag.”

  “Outwit. Outplay. Outlast.”

  “I will seriously hit you.”

  “Let your fingers do the walking.”

  “You win. I bow to your knowledge. I am not worthy.” “I’m loving it.”
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  Aimes and I both stare at the other, waiting for the next round. When it doesn’t come, our laughter does. It fills the common area with its familiar sound, causing others to smile. I am not thinking about ghosts right now. Right now, I am just enjoying this minute. “Have your feelings changed for anyone since all of this start- ed?” I ask her as our laughter settles to giggles and then silence.

  “Danger, Will Robinson, danger,” Aimes mockingly calls out. Her body position changes with the implications of my question. “Okay, how about this, have you noticed any changes with

  anyone you never thought of before?”

  Ever notice how a tree can look exactly like the North Star when it is not decorated? No?

  “Oh yes, well, when phrased like that, it is much more comfort- able to be asked,” Aimes says.

  Aimes has found the tree also very interesting. Maybe we should just keep one here year-round, for conversation’s sake.

  “You are not going to answer me, are you?” I finally ask her after a long pause of tree watching.

  “That is a big negative, good buddy.” She smiles at me with her refusal. She asks me, “Why are you asking, anyway?”

  “Something Chapel said to me about Rhett has me thinking,” I say. My answer snaps her head forward again. Her sudden panic tells me the little pixie knows something.

  “Have you talked to Lawless, yet?” she asks me. Her voice is solid, but it holds a moment of worry. “I mean really talked to him?”

  “About what?” I watch her the way Chapel was watching me. I search for any hidden facial twitch to give me clues.

  “About your amazing slogan skills that totally rock the Casbah.

  What do you think about?” she asks me.

  Her frustration over the situation shows in her voice, and it is my turn to answer her with silence.

  “You have to talk to him,” she says when my silence grows too long. “Hells, you have to talk to someone. I know something horrible happened. You would never have left those kids behind otherwise.”

  Oh, Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how I stare at you so dedicatedly.

  “I am not saying you have to take him back,” she tells me. “You don’t have to go back to Lawless Land if you don’t want to, but at least talk to him. He was the only one who could ever reach you. Not saying I am not awesome or anything, but you two had this thing. You need that thing, Hells. You need it now more than ever. You tried to talk them out of killing one of those dead things today.”

  Aimes’ words pull a topic from me I am not ready to debate yet. My words keep escaping like water through my fingers. I cannot hold on to them.

  “They are not dead. She said they are not dead,” I whisper.

  I feel my chest flutter with the panic of the voiced truth, like a hummingbird with its fast wings has taken home in it. It claws me internally, bringing hot tears to my face with the pain.

  “Helena?” Aimes is torn between pity and fear watching me break.

  I am supposed to be the strong one, the one of icy, cold steel and I sit now before her losing it with one sentence.

  “Don’t. Just don’t,” I tell her as much as I tell myself.

  I leave her sitting on the couch still staggering from my reaction. Everyone has their kryptonite. Mine just happens to be the ghosts of the little children who stalk me with their blue eyes and the crimson coloring of my sins.

  My room is shielded from the sun and it seems colder today than normal. I hug myself, trying to hide my weakness.

  “Whose arms are you craving right now?” Lawless’ voice drifts in from behind me.

  Silence is a wonderful thing when unsure of the truth. I employ it now, watching him walk from behind me into my room. He sits on the cot before me, waiting for my answer. He is wearing his mask and that never bodes well for our conversations.

  “Let me guess, you want to talk?” I ask.

  It’s an easy guess with the theme so far of my afternoon.

  He shrugs with his whole body. One of his shoulders goes up countering the height of the other. His hands flip over to show me his palms. His lips frown for a moment with it before he returns to his placid calm.

  “Yeah, I do,” he says.

  “I don’t,” I tell him, turning from him, to leave from where I thought I would be safe from so many questions.

  He is instantly in front of me, shutting the door and blocking me from my escape.

  “You always do this. You always run. I’m tired, Helena. I can’t keep up with your running anymore,” Lawless tells me. He is leaning against the door with his back, securing it in place and securing me in the room.

  I guess we are going to talk. Yippe! Skippie!

  “I didn’t ask you to.” My arms cross in front of me, preparing for the battle ahead. I am armed with sarcasm and deep glaring stares. Unfortunately, I do not think either of those will frighten him anymore. Where is Chapel’s gun when I need it?

  Lawless laughs. It is a laugh of ironic pain, not amusement with what I have said.

  “You’re right,” he says. “You would never ask for my help. I am just supposed to give it, and if I don’t, how quickly you can hate, Hells.”

  I stare at him, not giving him an inch of reaction with my silence. He said he wanted to talk, not me.

  “You push me away just as hard as you pull me close. I don’t know which way to turn, or what to say to you anymore. Every time I think I am getting close; you shove me away. At least, with Leslie I knew where she stood,” he tells me with a smirk, and I feel the poison sneaking onto my tongue.

  “Stand? That is impressive. I didn’t know she had that mode. I figured she just laid down for you and that is why you so enjoyed her.”

  We are not going to talk. We are going to fight. There is no stopping our storm now.

  “Alright, yes, forgive me, but I did. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed every moment of it. I enjoyed her wanting me. I enjoyed her flirting with me. The way she wasn’t ashamed to let others see us together. She wants me,” Lawless stresses the words which would hurt me the most.

  He closes some of the gap between us with his anger. His voice sounds like thunder in this small room.

  “….and the sex?” I ask, attempting to stop some of his forward progression towards me.

  The winds begin to pick up around us with my question. We are going graphic novel.

  “It was great. She couldn’t get enough. The way she screamed under me; it was perfect.” His voice clashes with the grin upon his face. I can feel the rain falling from his words.

  “You’re lying.” I hear my voice crack, stripping me of my courage to fight this fight.

  Venom fills his words as his anger takes him.

  “No, I’m not. I could walk out of this room right now and find her. I could take her right where she stands. No questions asked. Not with you. Never with you. I could never suggest such a thing with you. No one gets a piece of Helena Hawthorn’s heart until she needs them and wants them,” he says to me.

  His words become more agitated with each sentence. He is standing toe-to-toe with me now. His eyes are burning with his anger as he stares down at me.

  He rides his anger, saying, “...and then, when you are done, you are just gone. You fade away back behind this stonewall of yours. Keeping everyone out. Shoving everyone away. Keeping me out. Even though I know all of this, I stay. Knowing how each time would end between us. Knowing when the sun comes up, you will be gone. When people are around us, you’ll be cold again. All of this I know, and I still can’t walk away from you.”

  He does his ironic laugh again. This time it mixes more with his self-disgust over his actions rather than disgust over me. I watch him walk past me with his head heavy from his thoughts. He puts his back to me, trying to control his anger.

  “When you let me in though, Helena, when you let me see behind that wall of yours, I feel like I’m whole. When I used to hold you at night, I was whole. Your smile would bring me peace. Your laughter used to
heal me from all the shit I’ve done. All the shit I have to do. My whole life was for those moments. Nothing in-between mattered. Just those moments for me when you would stare at me like I was some hero. Our moments were everything to me. I’ve tried to find it with others. I’ve tried hard, so tired from your games. It was never there with them. They were just faces. Just guilt when I had to look at you afterward.”

  He sits back on the cot, silent for a moment and I am not sure if we are in the eye of our storm or if it has blown over.

  “When you pulled that stunt at the Welcome Center, watching you in the middle of all of those things again, do you have any idea what that was like? I get it. You couldn’t just stand there and watch them be attacked. I get it, but they wouldn’t let me go to you. I had to stand by and watch as those things came for you. If you were killed, and worse, I would have had to watch.” He casts those amber eyes on me and asks, “Did you ever think of me? For one moment, did you think what would happen to me if you didn’t survive? Were those strangers so much more important to you than me?”

  He is begging me for an answer to help him understand me, to understand us. I never saw it in that way. I never thought of my actions as wounding him or filling him with so many doubts of my feelings for him. In my efforts to save others, I have damned him.

  “Leslie was never supposed to go this far. I was just enjoying her attention. I knew it would upset you. I never meant for it to do this to us.” His guilt is covering him, shrinking him down with the weight of it.

  “It wasn’t just her. We are not here just because of her,” I tell him.

  He turns his head with my words; his eyes focus on something further into the room, and away from me.