When Laurie arrived at the hospital, he carried several weights on his shoulders, those of his aunt and mother, Seth’s sisters, Laurie’s sisters too. However the biggest burden was the memory of Eric’s voice from when they spoke last night. The artist had sounded especially pained at this latest turn of events, which had crept into Laurie’s dreams, making for a poor night’s rest. It seemed Eric was more concerned about Seth than Wilma was, which Laurie knew wasn’t completely true, although Laurie’s aunt had seemed rather resigned when they had received this news. Wilma wasn’t pleased that it had taken her brother days to work up the courage to call them about Seth’s setback, but she wasn’t overly surprised by Mickey’s lack of fortitude. And now that Laurie knew the reason for Seth’s suicide attempt, maybe his entire family could begin to understand just how fragile Seth truly was.
What had also surprised Laurie, in addition to Eric’s unease, was exactly how Seth managed to survive these rather deliberate actions; he had slit his wrists up to his elbows, and yet was in a relatively stable physical condition. Sheila had relayed the news, once Laurie had changed out of rumpled clothes and had downed a stiff drink. It had been Mickey, she clucked, who hadn’t wanted to tell his sisters that Seth had again fallen into depression. Sheila had seen this coming, she’d sighed, also with a bourbon in hand, but her perceptive tone had faltered when she gave the reason, or what she expected was the reason. As she’d shared her thoughts, Laurie discerned guilt, but not that Seth had tried to kill himself on their watch. The culpability went far deeper, and now as Laurie approached the hospital’s front desk, he had to wonder if Seth had stayed in Miami aware of what might happen. Perhaps there had been no other place for him to fully explore this side of their heritage, even if it was geographically far away from where they called home.
But Laurie wasn’t thinking Brooklyn as he smiled at the starchily dressed nurse behind the counter. He gave Seth’s full name and their relationship while the nurse nodded, offering him Seth’s room number. Seth wasn’t receiving any mental health treatment; at this point, the staff was merely bringing him back to life. He’d lost a lot of blood, Sheila had noted. Yet somehow, it seemed he was going to survive.
Walking down the hall, Laurie wondered if his aunt expected Seth to make a full recovery. What was the purpose of these interventions, Laurie then mused. Would it be better if Seth died, then Laurie stopped right where he stood. He glanced at the sterile surroundings; it didn’t look much different than the institution in Vermont, although this was a regular hospital. Then Laurie wondered about Caffey-Miller; two of Eric’s paintings still hung there, and while Seth hadn’t elaborated about how much they meant to him, he’d noted other patients appreciated the color. Then Laurie continued down the hallway; how many hospital corridors was he supposed to visit, how much of his cousin remained?
When he reached Seth’s room, again Laurie paused, looking for a doctor or nurse. No one appeared, and he opened the door. Would his presence hinder Seth’s recovery? Then Laurie grimaced; his bearing would have no effect upon Seth’s physical health. Yet he had to see this man, one so beloved, yet fleeting. Maybe it was better that Laurie had traveled, and to somewhere new. This wasn’t Vermont or Minnesota. This was Miami, home to displaced European Jews as well as many other people.
Entering the room, Laurie found Seth sleeping, his arms swathed in gauze past his elbows. Laurie didn’t flinch; he’d witnessed his cousin in this manner before. Yet before Laurie hadn’t been aware of how deeply Seth hurt. Now that he had an inkling, it was like Laurie could feel the slash marks. Those wounds weren’t from days ago, or from Korea, but further back, maybe from Biblical time, if Aunt Sheila was right. Laurie smiled, then shook his head. But who knew, maybe Sheila was correct. If she was, at least this gave Laurie and his family something to go on.
But it didn’t matter, unless Seth was willing to work with her diagnosis, and who knew if he would. At this point, Laurie wasn’t certain if Seth still wanted to live. He had cut through several arteries, how much damage had he inflicted upon tendons and muscles? Laurie flinched again. Even if Seth found a way out of this black hole, had he permanently injured himself so that sculpting was impossible? Laurie wondered if that was the cause of Eric’s anxiety, one artist fearing for the talents of another. Yet, Laurie hadn’t heard that last night when speaking to Eric. That man feared something beyond Laurie’s scope.
Laurie sat down, wondering if he should have worn slacks. But the heat that morning had felt so oppressive, he had chosen shorts, although now the backs of his legs clung to the chair. A fan blew in the corner of the room, which was devoid of decoration. The air was stirred, but still smelled of all the other hospitals Laurie had ever visited, with the added odor of humidity making it hard for Laurie to catch his breath. That was new and he pondered what it signified. Everything in this latest setback seemed to carry substantial meaning. Laurie then wondered if that was due to the change of location, the severity of Seth’s wounds, or that this time they had an idea of why he was again in harm’s way. Or, Laurie swallowed with distaste, might this be the last time Seth would survive such an attempt?
Every time Seth had tried to end his life, the injuries were more severe. Sometimes he had overdosed on pills, once he’d tried to hang himself. That he hadn’t yet found success might seem strange, as if he was merely crying out for help. But divine intervention had always hindered Seth’s wishes, how Laurie saw it, especially this time. Mickey and Sheila had gone out to dinner, leaving Seth alone. He’d had plenty of time to bleed to death, Sheila had said plainly, but when they returned he’d still had a pulse, amazing the paramedics. Of course, no one had yet mentioned that maybe Seth might have suffered additional mental impairment. He had regained consciousness, but not made any overtures to family. Would he speak now, Laurie wondered, gazing at the unconscious figure in bed. Aunt Wilma would only travel if she felt Seth needed more immediate kin. There wasn’t anything she could do in Miami other than hover, what she’d told Laurie, and what good was that? The Gordons and Abrams had long ago accepted that Seth was a precarious member of the family; maybe shock treatment had severed him, or allowed those women space to set him apart. It wasn’t from lack of love, Laurie knew, but self-preservation. How much longer could any of them continue to stretch out their hands to no apparent avail? Laurie used to think he would go to any lengths to save his cousin, and perhaps he still would; he was in Miami after a dreadful connection from Charlotte through terrible turbulence. Then, as Seth’s eyelids fluttered, Laurie’s heart skipped beats. He wanted to weep, for suddenly he knew he’d fly to the moon if this man could return to their family in one piece.
“Seth, hey, you need anything?” Laurie scooted closer to the bed as he spoke, the chair legs scraping across the tile. He had wanted to get up, then lift the chair, but his legs were still stuck to the vinyl seat. The noise seemed to have stirred Seth, maybe that was okay. Laurie cleared his throat, then gingerly reached for Seth’s left hand, lying motionless on the bed. Laurie gave his cousin a firm squeeze, feeling just the hint of that action being returned.
Laurie closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. As he let it out, he opened his eyes, finding Seth gazing his way. Laurie couldn’t tell if Seth was focusing on him, but at least Seth had moved his head Laurie’s direction. “Hey, good morning. Or maybe it’s afternoon already. I don’t know what time it is to tell you the truth.” Laurie didn’t know the hour, or even what day it was. All he knew was that this man was still among the living. And that in these moments, Laurie needed to relay the importance of that fact.
Seth nodded weakly, then closed his eyes. He was alive, but only by a thread, which Laurie realized was mostly due to why Seth had fallen so far down the deepest hole Laurie could imagine. Laurie could clasp both of Seth’s hands if he stood, then leaned over the debilitated man in bed. But regardless of the physical proximity, Seth was on the moon, and Laurie was there on Earth, and who in the world could bridge that gap? President Kennedy
said by the end of the decade an American would reach that site. But Seth didn’t have seven years; he might have seven weeks if they were lucky. As Seth again weakly gripped Laurie’s hand, the connection was fleeting. But it was now so strongly woven through Laurie that he would move heaven and earth to bring this man back to their family.
Life wasn’t merely eating, breathing, and sleeping. It was participating in the joys, and the sorrows, but not buried in the misery. Seth had been bobbing like a leaky boat in a sea of depression, years spent harming himself, trying to make sense of events that truly held no clear purpose. Laurie wouldn’t dare to analyze all that Seth felt needed answers, nor could he judge his cousin for trying to make sense of what was illogical. Maybe the artist in Seth felt those inquiries required resolution, and perhaps, when Laurie again spoke to Eric, he might ask the painter if he felt similarly challenged. What mattered now was addressing, in the barest terms, the issues that had driven Seth to such horrific actions. Laurie would tell his aunt not to travel. The man lying in this bed was so picked apart, it would only grieve Wilma, as if Seth hadn’t actually survived.
Then Laurie wanted to shake himself; how had he missed this, why hadn’t any of them seen the reason, or at least guessed at it? Were they so distanced from what Sheila’s relatives had witnessed, suffered, then escaped? Maybe Laurie needed to call his cousin Tovah, perhaps speaking with her husband Ben or his parents, who had fled Germany while it was still possible for Jews to exit the country. Then Laurie sighed. It was too late to ascertain that information. Seth didn’t have that kind of time.
For the first time, Laurie saw the situation clearly, and for a few seconds, that vision was frightening. So slender was the cord by which Seth clung to life, making Laurie feel that every passing minute was being wasted while he sat stuck to his seat while Seth tried to make eye contact, but was too weary to meet Laurie’s gaze for more than brief glimpses. Yet, Seth’s blue eyes were sharp, as if he comprehended Laurie’s knowledge. It was hard for Seth to admit, even in glances, all of the turmoil, yet he ached to speak, was clearly dying to share the unbearable weight that had been suffocating him long before Korea. How had he sculpted the figurines, Laurie then wondered, pieces full of hope and healing and…. They had been made as a manner to now reach out for whoever could untangle the mass of confusion and torment, but the right doctor had to be found as quickly as possible. For, Laurie shuddered, as Seth took back his hand, this was the last unsuccessful attempt. Next time, Seth would complete the task.
“I won’t leave you, I’m not going anywhere.” Laurie spoke softly, but with conviction. “I know why and I’m not gonna lose you. I love you, you hear me? We all love you and we can’t lose you.” Laurie fought tears as memories flooded him, from that initial introduction to childhood playtimes, through adolescence and when Seth enlisted, up to sharing cake in Aunt Wilma’s kitchen just months ago. Then Laurie thought of last Thanksgiving, when Seth told him what he saw in the blue barn. That information now fell upon Laurie’s shoulders, and while it was crushing, he was capable of hoisting it. He had to or else it would grind his cousin right into the ground.
Laurie’s athletic build could withstand the pressure, but Seth had been too slight and pensive. Before he was old enough to put all of that into perspective, he’d made the choice to serve his country, which had exacerbated instead of releasing that burden. Now Laurie needed to shield Seth long enough for that man to breathe freely. How many years had he been inhaling the most toxic…. Laurie then felt unable to breathe; was it the humidity? But he knew exactly what it was, and he shivered as oxygen finally hit his lungs. How many Jews had waited for water to fall, but instead gas had surrounded them with nowhere to flee.
His heritage had never felt so tangible, not in a synagogue or at a bris or any other Jewish event. He ate pork without a second thought, rarely celebrated holidays, and had more deeply mourned homosexuals killed by the Nazis than his own people who had been exterminated on an unfathomable scale. No one could truly plumb The Holocaust, it was impossible. Then Laurie inhaled deeply, staring at Seth. He’d tried, although Laurie wasn’t sure why. But he needed to know, because Seth had to face that reason, a force so strong, it was killing him. Was it guilt for being untouched, had he felt a connection to some particular name or personality, did his artistic talent require him to fashion resolution, reasons that to Laurie were far too large for one man to adopt. No single person could take on such unrelenting responsibilities, that was madness. And that madness was strangling the life from Seth, but not if Laurie could stop it.
Yet who could breach this overpowering psychosis? Maybe Seth needed a Jewish psychiatrist, or one schooled in this sort of trauma. Laurie needed to ask Aunt Wilma the religions of Seth’s former doctors, probably they had been Jews, but Laurie needed to know their qualifications. Maybe not too many Jews had worked at Caffey-Miller, he assumed, but that was the past. Seth needed care here in Miami, not that he could be transferred back to Brooklyn anytime soon. He required intense analytical treatment, and certainly no more shock therapy. Most importantly he needed all of this to begin as soon as he was physically able to take it. Once Seth could be moved, Laurie would have in place the best facility in southern Florida. He assumed Miami would be suitable, but he would look northward if necessary. As soon as Seth was strong enough, the appropriate doctor would be waiting.
Laurie’s heart pounded, for this was the first time he felt so close to a cure. Although, he sighed, gazing at his now sleeping cousin, Seth teetered over a very delicate precipice. While wellness was in sight, if they didn’t reach it soon, Seth would fall into a valley of…. The valley of death, from which Laurie could never retrieve him. Now that notion gave Laurie chills, although just hours ago Laurie had allowed the idea, unpleasant yes, but certainly not the worst. Suddenly to lose Seth was akin to turning one’s head to another victim of Nazi terrorism. Laurie wouldn’t share any of this with Stanford; that man didn’t have the capacity to understand. Maybe with Eric, Laurie permitted. Eric would be receptive both as an artist, and Laurie smiled, as a Christian, even one newly minted. And maybe Eric could relay this to Sam, who would understand as a solider and Catholic. For the first time, Laurie grasped at his religion, not as a balm but a strength. He needed to talk to Sheila’s relatives, especially the woman who had unwittingly brought them all to this place. But Laurie didn’t mean a stark Miami hospital room. Laurie felt he was on ground zero, but the space was shrinking even as he stood there. He needed to find a safe spot for Seth to rest. Then hopefully, if God was willing, they would move forward from there.
Laurie stayed at Seth’s bedside for another hour. They spoke little, but shared brief squeezes, during which Laurie hoped to give Seth some relief. Once Seth was sleeping, Laurie drove back to Mickey and Sheila’s. He called his aunt, telling Wilma to stay where she was, but asking her to look into the doctors in Vermont; were they Jewish? Then Laurie spoke to his mother, noting that he would be in Miami for the unforeseeable future. Rose pestered him for details, but he had none to give her, other than he felt Seth would be best treated in the South. After that he ate lunch, then he called Stanford. That conversation was stilted, although Laurie longed to open his heart. He didn’t, not merely because of propriety; there was no way for Laurie to explain all that needed to be relayed. Even if Stanford was Jewish he still might not want to know; Laurie wasn’t sure his mom and aunt could fully comprehend what now seemed so obvious. Stanford sighed that Laurie didn’t have a firm date to return, but he didn’t want Laurie to rush. They ended their conversation on a rather formal note, but later Laurie would write to Stanford, telling him how much he loved him. That notion Laurie was eager to share.
During the afternoon, Laurie napped fitfully on the guest bed. He woke still feeling lethargic, but having accepted his presence would be for the duration, he didn’t mind the weariness. For how long had Seth suffered a more debilitating fatigue, as if every breath was taken in vain? No wonder he couldn’t sculpt; ho
w had he managed to even get through the day? Laurie didn’t ponder more than that; to do so would be flirting with the kind of neurosis that he now had to fight with every manner possible. Other than shock therapy, Laurie would permit even the most novel treatments. But he hoped that traditional counseling sessions would start to give Seth peace. Other than at Thanksgiving, Seth had never talked about what troubled him. Perhaps his torment had so many triggers, or that they were rooted in such catastrophe, but if not dealt with now, Seth would die. Laurie took a shower, washing off sleep and sweat and the sense of helplessness. That had dogged him for too long; he needed to be fresh and sharp. As he dressed, again in shorts and a t-shirt, he smiled, wishing that Stanford was there. They wouldn’t talk about Seth, but around Stanford Laurie could express very significant emotions. Of course they wouldn’t stay at the Goldsmiths’ house. They would have two rooms at a hotel. But the closeness would have bolstered Laurie, even if he’d had to stay tight-lipped about other issues.
He found his aunt and uncle in the living room, watching television. Sheila stood, then asked if he was hungry. Laurie noted that indeed he was, and he chuckled inwardly as he followed her to the kitchen. Food was a cure-all, or at least it was to a Jewish mother. Sam Ahern might agree, and Laurie wished for some of Sam’s pork chops. Laurie might leave Miami with a deeper appreciation for his heritage, but he could never go Kosher. Sam’s talent with a chop was too magical.
As Sheila filled a plate, Laurie sat at the table, staring aimlessly into the room. He would live in this house until Seth was well or…. Maybe Stanford would visit, the time apart wouldn’t be easy on either of them. Laurie would have to inform his clients, but fortunately no exhibits were scheduled. The rest of summer had only offered a trip westward and Laurie did lament missing that event. Would Stanford go alone, or maybe Michael would accompany him. Stan might not want to leave the East Coast, but Laurie hoped that he would travel west, if nothing else than to fill empty time. Laurie didn’t think he’d be leaving Florida soon. He had several tasks to perform, the first being to speak to Sheila’s cousin. Laurie couldn’t recall her name and he wasn’t sure for how much longer she was visiting. Sheila set a plate in front of him, making Laurie grin. Potato salad and three deviled eggs bordered several slices of cold chicken, making Laurie’s stomach rumble. Sheila then brought him a glass of iced tea. “It’s sweet,” she said. “I hope that’s all right.”
“This looks wonderful. Thank you so much.” Laurie dug in and while Sheila didn’t join him at the table, she made several stops, asking if he needed more. Laurie ate every bite, then gladly accepted a slice of pineapple upside down cake. It wasn’t comparable to the treats in Brooklyn, but satisfied his sweet tooth. He finished the tea, then sat back, wondering how much weight he would put on. He would have to walk in the mornings, when it was cool. Then Sheila returned. “Mind if I join you?” she asked.
He motioned to the chair across. “That was absolutely delicious. I had no idea I was so hungry.”
“It was just leftovers. Too hot to cook anything today.” She smiled. “Well, I did bake early this morning. Mickey loves upside down cake. Although….” She paused, then gazed intently at Laurie. “He says Wilma makes this chocolate cake that their mother always baked. Says that Rose doesn’t have the recipe.” Sheila clasped her hands together, placing them on the table. She gazed around the room as if looking for something. “You think Wilma might give me the recipe?”
Laurie fought a belly laugh, but a chuckle did escape. “To tell you the truth, Aunt Wilma’s going to the grave with that one. I don’t think she’ll give it to her daughters.”
Sheila stared at Laurie. “Not even to her own girls?”
Laurie nodded. “She’d worry one of them would break down and give it to Mom.”
Sheila rolled her eyes. “Well goodness. Hmmm. That seems a little, well….” Sheila smiled, then removed her hands from the table. “Well, thank God Mickey prefers upside down cake.” She glanced at the kitchen doorway, nodding her head. Then she looked at Laurie. “I hope you like pineapple.”
“It was the perfect dessert.” He smiled broadly, then patted his stomach for effect. “The tea too. Suppose that’s the ideal southern beverage.”
“Oh, it’s southern all right.” Sheila grinned. “We drink a lot of it, but my aunts and uncles never did get into it. They prefer water, no ice.” She made a face, then shrugged her shoulders. “Sort of plain, but if it makes them happy, who am I to say?”
Her tone suggested that she made that excuse often. When Seth was better, Laurie would ask if who am I to say was one of Sheila’s catchphrases. The words had slipped from her tongue like she said them countless times a day, also like she was living in two worlds. Laurie felt a door had been opened and he gently cleared his throat as if a few crumbs were caught. He drained what remained in his glass, only melted ice water, but it washed down the imaginary crumbs. “So Aunt Sheila, what can you tell me about, oh goodness, I can’t remember her name.”
Laurie used a voice he sometimes employed with his mother or aunt about a distant relative, generally offered as a show of respect. Yet Seth’s very life hinged upon this information and Laurie had to start gathering it as quickly as he could.
Now Sheila fidgeted, again placing her clasped hands upon the table. “Cousin Norah, you mean.”
“I think that’s her. She hasn’t been in Miami long, correct?”
Sheila sighed, then cracked her knuckles. “Just a couple of months. She’s leaving in a few days, been staying with Aunt Deb. She’s not really related to me, I mean, she’s a distant cousin, you know.”
Laurie nodded. Sheila spoke as if she was guilty by association, but it wasn’t her fault that Seth was in the hospital. Nor was it this Norah’s fault either. “She’s visiting from Jerusalem or from….”
“She lives there, uh-huh. But she’s from….” Now Sheila paused and Laurie had to fight a smile. She reminded him of Renee when she had spoken the lord’s name in vain and needed to cross herself. She did that often, or at least Laurie had caught her doing it the last time he’d been at the Snyders. That had been for Jane’s baptism, but Renee had probably done it over the St. Patrick’s Day weekend when Jane was born. Then Laurie sighed; the last time he’d been west wasn’t for the baptism, but Eric’s show. Yet that trip had carried a heavy sorrow, no wonder he’d blocked it. Jane’s birth and baptism were far happier events, and Laurie wished he could be in two places at once. But when Seth was better, then Laurie could spend time in the Snyders’ garden, sharing pie with not only one little girl, but maybe two. Or a tiny boy, who probably wouldn’t look like Seth. Eric and Lynne’s children would possess different features. Laurie smiled, then frowned; Sheila had kept talking, but he hadn’t paid attention. What about this Norah had he missed, hopefully nothing important. Where she was from in Germany mattered little, he assumed she was German. But her identity was steeped in their shared Jewish culture. Or perhaps culture was too intimate. Laurie’s life had few claims on Norah’s, other than that both were Jewish. Had she spent time in a labor camp or had she found a safe way out of Europe? He shuddered to think she’d been incarcerated, but it was certainly possible.
“Anyways,” Sheila continued, “they spent a lot of time together. Of course she feels bad, but it’s not her fault. He’s….” Sheila raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. “No offense Laurie, I mean, he needs professional help or shock therapy. I hear it works wonders.”
Laurie gazed sharply at her. “It didn’t do anything for him before.”
“Well, maybe they did it differently up there.” Disdain edged her tone, as if up there indicated more than a geographic location. Treatment by non-Jews was what she meant, but maybe she was right. Seth might be better served by a doctor steeped in Jewish issues as well as educated in psychiatric healing.
“If nothing else,” Sheila mused, “Norah knows there’s someone worse off than her. I mean, she’s managed to come to terms with everything. This must hav
e something to do with his time in Korea.” Sheila cracked her knuckles again, then wore a relieved smile. She nodded for added effect. “He never should’ve enlisted. I’m surprised Wilma let him.”
“Seth made that decision himself. There wasn’t anything Aunt Wilma could’ve done to stop him.” Laurie’s tone was firm. All of them had advised Seth to reconsider his plan, but he was free, white, and over twenty-one, what some men in the family had noted, often in Laurie’s hearing. The phrase had carried a double meaning, but Laurie had ignored those insults. He also felt that while serving in the army hadn’t been helpful, that stint didn’t account for what Seth now suffered, or not fully. Then Laurie took a deep breath. “Aunt Sheila, what exactly happened to Norah?”
If Sheila had mentioned it, Laurie had been distracted. But in how she again fidgeted, not meeting his gaze, Laurie knew she had glossed over that detail. He stared at her until she finally met his eyes. Hers were teary, making him sweat. But he had to know; Seth’s life depended on this information.
“She’s a survivor, from Auschwitz.” Sheila’s voice was flat, but tears rolled down her cheeks. “She made it to Bergen-Belsen, God only knows how. She never talks about it, but he saw her tattoo. I guess she felt he might understand, or maybe he just kept asking her about it. He spent a lot of time at Aunt Deb’s, at first I thought maybe he and Norah, you know….” Sheila permitted a brief smile, then shook her head. “I told him maybe he needed to take a break, maybe we could drive up to Orlando or Tampa even, get away from here for a bit.” She paused, but this time Laurie paid attention. Sheila leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. “I thought he’d do better down here, around his family.” She said family like all of their religion was bound within one word. “But now, huh.” She stared around the room as if seeking answers. Then she met Laurie’s gaze. “Norah was one of a handful, a basic handful that lived. How many were lost, oh my God.” Sheila shook her head. “She went from Auschwitz to Mittelbau to Bergen-Belsen, three camps, three camps!” Sheila raised her arms, gesturing to nothing in particular. “Three camps,” she repeated, “and she’s fine. So what if she doesn’t wanna talk about it? Who wants to hear about it, you know?”
Laurie gazed around the room, comfort all around him. He couldn’t fathom the horrors Norah had suffered, but Seth had needed to hear about them. What had Norah told him, or maybe it was merely the tattoo which she would always display. Laurie wasn’t even sure if he wanted to speak to her, he didn’t wish to upset her. More important to him was how Seth had absorbed her trials.
Laurie didn’t say anything as words seemed useless. He stood, then pulled out the chair beside his aunt. Opening his arms, he grasped the shaking, weeping woman, noticing how his uncle didn’t join them. Sheila wasn’t quiet, but Laurie didn’t mind comforting her. At least she wept, and he did too. They would never understand such misery, maybe they weren’t meant to. But if Seth had felt that was his calling, enlisting in the army hadn’t been the way to go forward. In fact, Laurie thought, still cradling his trembling aunt, it had been the wrong road. How to set Seth on the right path was another uncertain hurdle, but now Laurie had some sense of direction. The trail was dark and rocky, but he would stick it out. He could do nothing less and he sighed, then prayed for guidance. If God had brought Norah out of three death camps, maybe he could work a similar miracle for the man Laurie loved.
Chapter 116
The Hawk: Part Six Page 18