Until Death

by Kari Anne Kilgore

  Leo stood beside the casket, looking anywhere but at his bride's still face. He'd been struggling to avoid seeing her all afternoon. The random glimpses out of the corner of his eye were more than enough. Voices behind him rose for a moment, then slowly moved out the door with the rest. He risked a quick glance behind him to make sure they were all gone.

  "I'm sorry, Maria," he whispered, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. He couldn't do this without seeing her, probably without touching her for the last time. "I'm so damned sorry that I never could figure out what you needed. How to help. I'm breaking my last promise to you not a week after I made it. I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. "

  He turned his face down and opened his eyes.

  At first all he saw was her dark blue dress, primly buttoned all the way to the collar. Her skin was pale and still above it. Leo pulled his fake bottle out and switched it with the one tucked in beside her hip, wincing when it brushed against her arm.

  Her flesh didn't yield any more than the padded side of the coffin, as if she'd never breathed or moved her body against his.

  Leo's gaze shifted to her face, and he nearly dropped the full bottle. His wife looked more calm and peaceful than she had for a long time. Maybe years. Her skin was too pale and her face a tiny bit puffy, but she'd been worse over the last few months. The liver spots were covered up, and her hair seemed as clean and shiny as when she'd been able to take care of it herself.

  Whoever had done this makeup job had even put a lifelike flush of excitement on her cheeks. Her lips were full and red, and Leo surprised himself by leaning down to kiss her.

  He would have sworn her lips were warm.

  "Goodbye, Maria. I hope you're as peaceful as you look."

  He slipped the bottle into his pocket and draped the coat over his arm just in time to hear the comically loud throat clearing behind him. The ghostly tones of women crying out her final mourning song filtered through the door. The old Soviet boss was walking in, the priest and the men who would carry her hard on his heels.

  Following these men out, behind Maria's coffin, would be his first steps into a life he'd never wanted.

  A life without her.

  Chapter 22

  Leo was surprised to find himself as ravenous as his brother had been at breakfast after the short walk from the church to the feast. Maria's aunts had helped her mother put out a remarkable amount of food even for the abundant meals he was used to in Transylvania. Specially cured meats, early spring greens and last year's pickles, and the usual mounds of polenta layered with cheese, covered every surface in the neat, small kitchen. He gladly took the excuse, and Brian's assistance, to eat and avoid conversation as much as he possibly could.

  He'd offered to pay for at least part of the food, but Maria's relatives had politely declined. Leo suspected, and hoped, that much of the food was provided by neighbors instead of bought by one small family.

  He was thinking of trying to escape, to walk back by the graveyard on the way to the inn, when Maria's mother stepped away from the dark-haired young woman she'd been talking to and sat down beside him. Leo saw Brian walking toward him with glasses of water. He shook his head at his brother's startled expression.

  "This is a wonderful feast, Elena," Leo said as he turned to Brian. "You remember my little brother?"

  "Of course I do," Elena said. Brian kissed both of her cheeks as smoothly as if he'd been born in Europe. "So good to see you again, Brian."

  "You too, ma'am, though I wish the situation were different."

  "We all do," she said, lowering her eyes for a second. "I need to speak to Leo for a moment."

  This time Leo nodded at Brian, who sat the two glasses down before he walked away.

  "He's watching over you," Elena said, watching the younger man walk away.

  "I don't know what I would have done without him. How are you holding up, Elena?"

  "It's a terrible thing, to bury your child," she said. Her voice was steady but tears stood in her eyes. "A heartbreak too many of us here have known in the past. I didn't think it would happen to my Maria."

  "No," Leo said. "I didn't either."

  "How long will you stay, Leo? In Romania?"

  "I have a few more weeks before I have to get back," he said. "I might travel around a little. Try to get my head on straight. Going home isn't going to be easy."

  She put her hand on his forearm.

  "I'm so very sorry, Leo. I wonder what I did to bring such a weakness into Maria, that she died so young. I did the best I could to protect her, but times were not easy."

  "I don't think it was anything you did," Leo said. "No one knows what causes addiction. She had a lot of good years."

  Elena shook her head and wiped her eyes with that black handkerchief. Leo didn't understand all the hardness between Maria and her mother. He hoped Elena would be able to get past it on her own.

  "It hurt her, not being able to have babies with you," she said. "I had no easy choices back then. I'm not sure I made any of the right ones."

  "You raised a strong, wonderful woman," Leo said. He'd believe it himself again someday. "One I fell in love with the second I saw her and stayed in love with for more than half my life. Probably the rest of my life. We can't blame ourselves. That doesn't help anyone."

  "She was right to be with you," Elena said, her chin trembling. "I know she loved you until the end, Leo. Thank you for taking care of her. And thank you for letting us take care of her today."

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then she was gone. Brian sat down beside him before Leo could catch his breath.

  "Everything all right?"

  "As good as it can be," Leo said, then he drank half the water. He wished it were the pălincă he still had in his coat. "She hasn't exactly been the most approving mother-in-law in the world. Maria hadn't spoken to her for years, but she wouldn't tell me why."

  "Just as well she lives in New York, maybe," Brian said. "Ready to get out of here?"

  "Yeah, let's go before she decides to be even more honest. I don't think my heart could take it."

  The two men walked slowly toward the door, and several people did indeed embrace Leo. Elena had rejoined the young woman she'd been talking to earlier. Whoever she was, her pale blue eyes followed Leo as they slipped away. Elena only nodded at him.

  If he'd known that would be the last time he saw Maria's mother alive, Leo might have endured one last hug.

  Chapter 23

  Leo made a point of going straight to the awkward upstairs pantry as soon as they returned to the inn, keeping a promise he'd made to himself on the way back. His descent into near madness, and Maria's to her death, started in the cramped and useless space in their house in California. He had to bring some part of it to an end right here.

  He stepped inside and pushed the bottles of alcohol back, making room for an extra one. He turned it to match all the pălincă and added it to the supply. He made himself another promise to get rid of each and every bottle of gin hidden in their house in California.

  It was his house now, and past time to find something useful to do with the space. Even if he was left with a shallow closet or shelves. Anything but a secret space, a hidden knife waiting to sink into his back with no warning.

  Three hours later, just as the sun was setting on the longest day of Leo's life, the innkeeper found him and Brian sitting in the second level courtyard. They'd been talking about anything but Maria for a couple of hours.

  Leo caught himself relaxing and enjoying himself, pulling out of the pit in his heart for minutes at a time. He was starting to wonder if he might be able to adjust to being a single man again after all. The same ancient black and brown mama dog he’d seen hanging around the inn since he’d arrived had made her way carefully up the stone steps, the first time Leo had seen her up there. She was lying with her head on his foot when Costel joined them.

  "I hope you'll join us for a light supper," Costel said, sitting o
n the wooden bench beside Leo and scratching the dog's head. "Good company helps after a hard day, and the two of you are very good company. I wish you could stay longer, Brian. The car will be here for you at four in the morning."

  "Wish I could stay longer, too, especially with that wake up time. I never thought I'd eat again after stuffing myself this afternoon," Brian said, rubbing his stomach. "But I'm actually hungry. Even in first class, airplane food will be a sad substitute."

  "Smart man, my little brother," Leo said. "He already knows you never turn down something Costel cooked. Outside or inside?"

  "Outside, yes," the innkeeper said, smiling. "Wonderful warm weather for so early in the spring. I'll see you down there."

  The long tables in the outdoor dining room were empty except for Costel, his wife, Brian and Leo. A bottle of pălincă stood at the head of the table with four shot glasses, and Leo knew at once it was the same one he'd pulled out of Maria's coffin. A faint streak of the makeup from her hand still twisted along the side, not completely rubbed off in his pocket.

  The last trace of her left in the world.

  Leo nearly refused when the tiny glasses were passed along, still caught up in over ten years of habit when offered alcohol with Maria by his side. He laughed under his breath and accepted the offer. He would face countless milestones and changes as he walked into his life as a widower. Some easier, some far harder. He'd never considered making his choices about drinking or not based on his own feelings rather than hers.

  And what could be more appropriate and fitting than that first guilt-free drink coming from this bottle, the one meant to be wasted under the ground?

  Chapter 24

  Motion again. Frantic, seeking motion.

  This time under her own power, but with no control.

  She was there. That woman was there. The one who scarred and cursed the flesh that was not her own.

  The heat was back, too, and she understood. The warmth was fury, and fury was the sustenance she needed. Fury and fear drove her on, gave her the energy to keep searching.

  Keep seeking.

  The demon rode the nightmares throughout the village until the sun came up and she was forced to rest again.

  The thing she needed most eluded her. It would not elude her forever.

  Chapter 25

  Now

  Leo stepped onto the graveled driveway outside the inn, letting the heavy glass-paneled door swing closed behind him. The yard was empty, but swirling patterns in the dew on the grass showed how agitated the dogs had been just a few minutes before while Leo watched from his balcony. The mama dog and all her furious offspring must have settled down as soon as the poor mangy stray ran toward the woods.

  Only the old brown and black mama dog was still there. She sat at the end of the driveway as if she'd been waiting for him, tapping her foot and staring pointedly at her watch the whole time.

  The chickens and bright guinea hens were calm, and the air of menace Leo had felt earlier was gone as well. Whatever the strange shadow moving over the ground had been, it had moved on with the dogs. Or it floated out of Leo’s mind once he woke up a little more. He shrugged and walked toward the road.

  "Just me this morning, girl," he said. The dog's triangular ears perked up at his voice. "My little brother had to go back home. Want to walk with me?"

  She fell into step with Leo just as she had with him and Brian during his visit. The younger man had insisted on walking down to the tiny convenience store several times. Brian claimed it was to get a Coke for his jet lag, but Leo suspected it was just to get him moving and out of his own head. Whatever the reason, the habit felt too good to give up.

  They'd seen many people out and about on their walks, but today no one was in any of the yards or driving on the narrow road. With Leo's encouragement, Brian had learned to trust the drivers without jumping into the ditch every time someone passed by. That wasn't a problem this morning. He made it the mile to the store without seeing a single person, or even another dog.

  He was relieved to see the door standing open as usual, dispelling his half-serious worries about the world ending while he'd slept so hard. The dog waited outside the door without Leo saying a word. The store was as deserted as the street except for the stooped old man behind the counter. He glanced at Leo, but instead of his usual warm smile and loud greeting, he stared at his hands.

  Leo grabbed a couple of bottles of Coke, wondering if something had happened overnight. He had no way to put the empty village and strange behavior together with how the dogs acted that morning. Not yet.

  "Good morning," he said, pulling his Romanian money out of his pocket. When he looked up, the man was still focused on his own hands. "That's five lei, right?"

  The man never met Leo's gaze or spoke. He took the twenty lei bill and counted out the change. After an awkward few seconds, Leo turned and left. Whatever it was, he didn't feel right prying into a near stranger's business. The dog fell into step beside him again.

  "At least you're speaking to me," he said. People were moving around now, but they turned away as he drew near. Some of the older women crossed themselves and went inside. "I'm either missing something or I have a good case of paranoia."

  The silence and disappearing act continued until Leo got back to the inn. He scratched the dog's ears, reminding himself to bring her some kind of treat for being nice to him. When he got to the kitchen, breakfast was on the table but the room was empty. He put the Coke in the fridge for later and sat down to eat alone.

  "Leo, good morning," Costel said, speaking so quietly that Leo didn't recognize his voice.

  "Morning. I'm glad you can see me. I was beginning to have my doubts."

  The tall man's brow drew down, but he looked more afraid than confused. He sat across from Leo.

  "I can see you," he said, still speaking low. "It has been a strange morning, my friend."

  "Yeah, what's going on?" Leo said. "I walked into the village and didn't see much of anyone. The people I did see wouldn't speak or even look at me."

  The innkeeper sat forward with his elbows on the table, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "Tell me, did you sleep well last night, Leo?"

  "I slept very well," Leo said. "Better than I expected to."

  "You will be the only one in the whole village, then," Costel said. He poured coffee for himself and topped up Leo's cup. "You mentioned wanting to walk in the woods? This would be a good day for that, I think."

  "Wait, what's going on?" Leo said, uneasiness creeping back into his mind.

  "It is probably nothing," Costel said. "But when many people have nightmares and trouble sleeping, especially after a funeral, it is best for a stranger to be away. No one will hurt you, Leo. Perhaps this will blow over, though."

  "What could I possibly have to do with a bunch of people having a restless night?"

  "Let me prepare lunch for you," Costel said, nodding. "And I'll drive you to the trail if you like. It will be cool and sunny today, perfect for a walk."

  Leo stared, not sure how he should respond. He was one step behind everything around him.

  "Have I done something wrong?"

  "No, no," the innkeeper said, but he didn't smile. "Old beliefs are strong here, that's all. When people are uneasy and you want a day to yourself, the time is right to take advantage. I will pack your lunch myself."

  "You've got a deal on the lunch," he said. "And the walk sounds good too. As long as you tell me what this belief is. I don't want to spend the whole day looking over my shoulder."

  Costel sighed, staring out the window and then into Leo's eyes.

  "I have no wish to hurt you, but I don't want you to worry all day. When Andrej went into the village this morning to do our shopping, everyone wanted to talk of their bad nights. Uneasy sleep, bad dreams, waking many times sure they'd heard a noise in the darkness. Andrej passed a hard night himself, and I'm sorry to say this, but so did I. When people have a night like this after a funeral, the ol
d belief is that the soul is restless."

  Leo opened and closed his mouth, certain he'd say the wrong thing but unable to say nothing. He surprised himself by speaking his wife's name without a wave of sadness for the first time in weeks.

  "They think Maria's come back from the dead?"

  "I don't think most people truly believe that, no," Costel said. "Some of the older people may. But they all know the burial was proper, Leo. They know this is not true."

  "The burial was proper?" Leo said, his mouth disengaged from his brain. "That's the only reason they know this isn't true, that she's not roaming the countryside?"

  To his great relief, Costel laughed. He didn't meet Leo's eyes for a few seconds, though.

  "I'm sure you have these things in America," he said. "Where it may not make sense but it's easier to do what the old people want. Yes?"

  "Yes. I can't deny that, even if I wanted to." Leo finished his coffee and rubbed his face. "So get me out of sight for the day, let the old folks take a nap, and we'll all feel better tomorrow."

  "You understand perfectly," the other man said, getting to his feet. "I'll have your lunch ready in ten minutes."

  "Hey, can you pack something for the old mama dog, the brown one? She's the only one who would speak to me this morning until you came down."

  Chapter 26

  Animals had no space for her now. She was too strong. Too solid. She left the dogs behind and moved out into the forest with the sunrise.

  Peace here, far more than she'd known under the ground. Peace, and something soft and familiar. Moving closer, coming toward her.

  As always. Through time and space. Coming toward her.

  She moved easily, not caring that she brought unease along with her. The creatures were not her concern. What she wanted most would have to wait until she was stronger.

  What she needed now lay quiet. Soft. Warm and sleeping. Close enough to touch, if she could only touch.