Charlotte moved, giving him room to examine their son.
East replied, “After a day like today, you tell me to have more tact. That’s ridiculous. You know I’m right. Her leaving is the only thing that saved us.”
“How?” I asked, interrupting the bickering.
“When you left,” she said, “Jonah must have followed you and realized Mick and his thugs were out there. He killed one and was not quiet about it. That’s the only thing that saved us. The only thing that told us anything was going on. Otherwise, they could have come in and we wouldn’t have known until it was … too late.” East’s clothes were ripped and bloodstained, her body and face bruised.
“Is that what happened?” I asked, turning to Jonah. “I was so quiet, I hadn’t thought he heard me.”
“Of course he heard you. He notices everything you do,” she said, with a look of irritation.
“We don’t actually know what happened,” Quint said, correcting his daughter. “Jonah was already badly beaten by the time we got to him. We fought as hard as we could, but when Mick grabbed Quinn … we stopped.” Quint shook his head.
Charlotte placed her head in her folded hands and held her rosary. The effect was that it was raised above her head.
Quint finished examining Jonah and sat by his wife. She leaned against his shoulder. He supported her.
No one spoke.
The day had been tragic. A kind, brilliant, beloved man was dead for no reason but violence. If Jonah survived, he survived as someone who had killed, just like my father. Yes, in self-defense, but still I knew it was not what either of them had wanted. They did what they had to, to save the ones they loved.
“I’m glad you killed him,” JP said, breaking the silence and looking at his sister.
“John Paul!” Quint said in a sharp tone.
East looked down at Jonah. “I didn’t mean to,” she said, looking up at JP.
So she too had killed. She had killed the man who had raped her. I had been raised to believe killing under any circumstance was wrong, but perhaps this was justice. I did not know.
Looking at his daughter, Quint said, “It wasn’t your fault. I told you that. He was an addict. His organs were weak. Your kicks must have caused some ruptures, where in a healthy person they wouldn’t have.”
“His death was his doing. No one else’s,” Charlotte asserted, making eye contact with East.
“Whatever, he deserved to die. That’s all I meant,” JP said.
“John Paul, we do not decide when someone dies. No matter how evil they are. Your brother, Bria’s dad, East … they did not kill to punish. They killed to protect the lives of those they loved. Mick—” Quint’s voice became too choked with hatred to continue.
“Mick killed for the sake of killing. Do you understand the difference?” Dad said, finishing Quint’s thought.
“Yes, sir,” JP said, watching his father.
Quint had lost his father today and possibly his son. His hand rested on Jonah’s head. He petted his hair. Tears built as he gazed on his son.
We sat for a long time. My father fell asleep. I wondered how long it had been since he had slept for eight hours. East and JP left to go check on Nonie and Quinn.
I watched Jonah and his parents. Quint held Charlotte. They both cried, but both were silent now. I wanted to go to Jonah. To hold him. To lie beside him to keep him warm, but it was not my place. His parents had rights to him, not me. I sat by my father and held his hand. A hand that had once seemed so strong … now the bones jutted against thin skin. He would not have lived much longer. He saved us today, but we also saved him.
Now we were safe. Mick was dead. He would not hunt us again. Only one of his men remained. We’d have to deal with him in some way, though I knew it wouldn’t be death.
Twenty-Two
I sat beside Jonah, my foot gently resting under his arm. I didn’t want to disturb him, but I had to touch him. I had to feel his skin against my own. He slept, if that’s what it’s called when you’re in a coma. I sat between him and the fire. Its light illuminated the pages of my mom’s journal. Everyone else was in bed, though I wondered how they slept.
With Pops gone, Nonie now slept with Quinn and East in the small nursery. Quinn hadn’t left Nonie’s side since Pops had passed. She was so young, yet very wise. She knew Nonie had lost more than any of the rest of us today. She spent her day doing what she could to help her grandmother.
Sara and Blaise slept in our room.
My father was asleep in the boys’ room. He was alone.
Josh and Eli slept in the barn, guarding the prisoner. I was told his name was Heath. He was Mick’s cousin. He told Eli he brought his wife and kids out to Mick’s in hopes of finding food. Mick had given him a few squirrels in exchange for him fighting with Mick. Eli wanted to let him go. The rest of us said we needed time to think through options, so for now he would be kept tied up in the barn.
The bodies of his friends, our attackers, had been burned. Not out of disrespect, but out of practicality. The ground was frozen solid. There would be no digging a grave until spring. Their bodies could not be left to rot until then. As each body was laid on the fire, Eli said a prayer. All those around bowed their heads. I watched from the window. I did not bow my head, nor did I offer any sort of goodwill to their bodies or spirits or whatever they were now. They had caused immeasurable pain. Why? To revenge the life of a dog who’d tried to kill a child. I felt no pity for them, only hatred.
Pops, whom they’d killed not for survival but to cause pain, would also be cremated. For now, he lay in the sitting room he had shared with Nonie, a few candles lit around his body. Encircling him, the family had said a rosary. My father and Sara joined them. Blaise and Josh guarded Heath, though they said they would be praying for Pops.
I did not leave Jonah. I listened through the door that divided the rooms. I heard the anguish and pain in all the voices, but in my father’s, most of all.
Charlotte had been with me all day, except during the rosary. Quint was in and out, but Charlotte never left. She didn’t mind my being with her and Jonah. We spoke only a few words. She prayed. I watched her. Occasionally I attempted to pray, but did not know how. No one had ever taught me.
Around midnight Quint convinced Charlotte to go to bed. He said if JP awoke, he’d get scared if he didn’t know where they were. I promised to watch Jonah and come get them if there was the smallest change. She squeezed my shoulder as Quint helped her out of the room.
* * *
My mother’s journal was in some ways the first Christmas present I’d ever received, or ever remembered receiving. It was a gift from her to me. I hadn’t told my father I had it. After all, it was addressed to me.
October 11, Feast of Our Lady of La Leche
Today, my darling child, I found out I am pregnant with you. I do not believe it possible to be happier than I am right this moment. To know that a life is growing within me. That you are growing within me. I know you will be an incredible child. How could you not be, with a father as amazing as yours. When we found out I was pregnant, he cried. You know how emotional he can be. He is so sensitive, so loving. I have no doubt you will be all those things and more. We have waited so long for you, my darling. I pray that you will be healthy and that you will grow to love God.
I love you with all of my heart! You are amazing!
Love,
Your Mom (that word feels so good to say—and write)
I closed the journal. I placed my head in my hands and cried. My mother had been so good, so pure. She loved me so much. My father had once been those things too. If she’d lived, I could have been those things. I could have grown to be loving and kind. Instead, I grew to be none of those things.
She was overjoyed and wanted me so badly. What would she think of me if she knew I had once been pregnant but did not relish in it as she had? That at sixteen I had chosen, and been encouraged to choose not to have that baby? I knew she would never be able to love me, not after
that. I didn’t love myself.
The guy I was dating said it was no big deal. Just abort. He didn’t understand why I’d even bothered to tell him. I thought he loved me. I knew then he didn’t. I felt so alone. Isolated. Unloved. I did what he said to do. What option did I have?
I looked at the unconscious man lying beside me. I knew for him an unplanned pregnancy wasn’t a choice to be made; it was a baby to be born. If he knew, he would hate me or at least see me for the evil person I was. My friends would finally understand why I was with Trent. Because I deserved far worse than he was.
My whole body shook as I cried. I realized how sorry I was. I begged for forgiveness to the only being I could, God.
I stopped crying and placed another log on the fire. I watched Jonah breathe slow and steady, as if he really was sleeping. I placed my hand gently on his chest. His heartbeat soothed me. I knew he should be dead, but watching him, I couldn’t help but think maybe he would live.
I picked up the journal and flipped to the middle.
April 13, Good Friday
You learned to walk today!!!! We couldn’t believe it. You pulled yourself up on the coffee table and then just let go. You made it three steps before you fell. Dad and I are so proud of you! You are such an amazing little girl!
Love you so much,
Mama
I flipped ahead.
January 19
It is freezing and we can’t play outside. So we spent the day over at Charlotte’s house. You and Jonah are inseparable. It’s amazing how much he likes playing with you. You two are only 2 years apart, but when you are only 18 months, that is a lifetime of difference, literally. But he loves to play with you as much as you enjoy playing with him. You toddle after him and Eli. You fall often and Jonah waits for you or helps you up. It is so precious.
It was a great day!
I love you!
Mommy
November 25, Thanksgiving
I’m pregnant! How amazing is this, and to find out on Thanksgiving! What an amazing thing to be thankful for. We had been hoping and praying another baby would be joining our family and now we will have one. When he or she is born, you will have just turned 3. That is perfect timing, but then God’s timing always is perfect.
I guess now I am writing to both of you. I know, little baby, that you will be just as incredible as your big sister. I am the most blessed mother ever!
I love you both!
Mommy
May 15
This pregnancy feels so different. I have this feeling that something is wrong, but my doctor says everything is fine and I just need to relax. I am trying. Bria, you help me keep my mind off things. You are so busy! It’s hard to keep up with you. I wonder how I will do it with two!
Love you both,
Mommy
I put the journal down and stared at the fire. She knew so early that something was wrong. No one believed her, but she was right. How many times had I had a feeling about something that I pushed aside when I shouldn’t have? The night Mick attacked, I saw him or one of them in the shadows. I should have turned around. I should have gone inside and woke people up. If I had, Jonah might have had more time. He might really just be sleeping right now instead of lying in a coma.
I shook my head and held her journal. Reading her words was torture. Hearing about pregnancies, knowing the last one would take her life. I couldn’t read about the pregnancy that killed her. I didn’t have the strength.
I turned to the last entry.
August 12, Day of your brother’s birth!!
I fought back the tears.
Bria,
I dreamt about you last night. It felt so real.
The contractions are coming more regularly now. Your brother will be here soon. But I didn’t want to forget this.
You were standing in the backyard of my grandparents’ old house. It was your wedding day. You wore my dress. Your father was there, holding your arm and crying. I knew he would cry on your wedding day. He was so thin. Eli stood in front of you, performing the ceremony. He was a priest. I was so happy to see that. I’ve been praying for that since his baptism.
Things were different than they are now. I don’t know how. It just felt like life was not how I thought it would be for you. But you were happy. I could sense that.
I didn’t stand next to you. I was off to the side. I don’t understand that either—maybe that’s how dreams are?
The contractions are coming so fast. Know that I love you always. Truly, my darling girl, no matter what happens in life, I love you now and forever!
Mom
I closed her journal, her love note to me and my brother. She’d written it for us so we could know we were loved. I wonder if she somehow knew she wouldn’t be here for us, for me, when I got older.
I thought of the last entry. My wedding day, here in this place. The dream must have been given to her from somewhere … from God, maybe. There is no way she would’ve thought I would be getting married here, not when I was three.
She didn’t mention the groom, but here in this place there could be only one. I looked at Jonah. The path to our wedding was not clear. The path to him living was not clear. The path, period, was not clear.
But I believed my mother, in the message she left me. I believed in hope. For the first time in my life I believed in the possibility of something more than there is. Perhaps I could become more. Perhaps I could be worthy of him somehow, someway.
I bent forward. “I love you,” I whispered in his ear. I kissed his forehead and, with my fingers, combed his hair gently away from the cuts.
I watched him for a long time. Watched him breathe. I held his hand. I wished I knew how to pray. Tears came as I asked God to let him live.
I wiped my tears and looked back at Jonah.
He did not move.
I stood and walked to his other side, not wanting to block the fire’s heat. I lay beside him, touching him gently. I watched him sleeping until I could no longer hold my eyes open.
My dreams were chaotic and violent. Filled with pain and death. I watched as Mick shot Jonah, and I could do nothing to stop it. In the dream he slumped and died. I fell to my knees, sobbing. Mick turned the gun on me. My mother appeared and easily took the gun from him. He tried to fight her. She disappeared. My father appeared and fought him. Mick fell, blood trickled from his nose and ear. My father turned into East. She looked confused as she knelt beside him and felt his pulse. ‘He’s dead,’ she said. Her face full of sorrow. I followed her gaze. Jonah lay at her feet. Blood pouring from his mouth.
Twenty-Three
“Bria, wake up!” Quinn’s voice rang out through the room. “Did you see him? Did you see Santa Claus?” she asked, practically jumping on top of me.
I rubbed my eyes. Jonah lay next to me, unchanged. I sat up and spun to face Quinn. Her parents, sister, JP, and grandmother were with her.
Quint placed a log on the embers of the dying fire and began examining Jonah, his green eyes matching his son’s. Charlotte knelt beside him and kissed his forehead.
“No, no, I didn’t see him,” I said, yawning.
“He was here! He was here!” she yelled.
“He was?” I asked, watching her excitement. Her black hair stood out in the sea of blonde and light brown hair of the rest of her family.
“Yes, see?” she said, coming toward me while opening her hand. Her dark eyes sparkled. There was a small cloth bag tied with a cloth string.
“What’s inside?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Crayons,” she said in awe.
“Wow!” I said. I examined the kaleidoscope crayons, not exactly in the shape of crayons but pretty close. JP and East had done a good job turning the broken shards back into their original form.
East sat on the floor behind Quinn, delight covering her face at her sister’s joy. She did so much for Quinn, always. Almost more like a mother than a sister.
The thought jarred something inside me. An image of
Mick, with his jet-black hair, entered my mind. I blinked it away. I looked at Charlotte. Her eyes were bloodshot, but blue.
The breath went out of me. Quinn was not her child. Not hers and Quint’s—there was no way they could have a brown-eyed child.
“Are you okay?” East asked, staring at me.
“Yes. I just felt dizzy for a second. I’m okay now,” I said, looking back at Quinn, the joyous child she was. She sat beside her grandmother and JP, showing them her crayons.
Now I knew Quinn was East’s daughter—and Mick’s. That was why they didn’t fight harder to prosecute Mick. They didn’t want anyone to know the rape had resulted in a child. Mick could never know.
I shuddered thinking about what life would be like if East had made the same choice I had made. How empty this moment, and so many others, would be without Quinn. I glanced at Charlotte and Quint. They did what East couldn’t. They raised her child, their grandchild, when she could not. Would my decision have been different if I had not been alone?
My father limped into the library. He stood above me, looking down at Jonah.
“Bria, would you mind taking a walk with me?” he asked, his voice unsure.
I looked back at Jonah and bit my lip.
“Go,” Charlotte said, and nodded toward my father. “I will watch him.”
My whole body hurt. I knew I needed to walk around. “Okay, but just for a few minutes,” I said standing.
My father set the pace as we walked slowly out the kitchen door. The cold air stung my shoulder. I wondered how much worse my father’s leg must feel. The bullet was still lodged in his thigh. It probably always would be. The ground had turned to mud as the snow had melted.
“Bria, I don’t know where to start,” he said, stopping and looking at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to apologize. To say I’m so sorry for everything that has happened since your mother,”—he swallowed hard—“and brother died. Walking here to you, it opened my eyes. I was alone most of the time and all I could do was think. It was the first time in eighteen years I let myself think about that day.” His voice had become choked.
The Light: Who do you become when the world falls away? (New Dawn Book 1) Page 18
