Page 15 of One Last Lie

“I’m sure you are too. You’re simply afraid to show it.”

“You want me to show my weirdness in front of you?”

“I’d like you to feel comfortable around me, yes.”

She laughs. This one isn’t as joyful as her previous laugh, but it’s not bitter. “That’s asking a lot. You’ve been here three days.”

“I know. I don’t expect us to be the best of friends right away. But if I am to care for you, it would be helpful if we were at least on speaking terms.”

I look frankly at her, and her eyes fall. “It’s just…” I wait patiently while she searches for the words. “I just… I want things to go back to the way they were.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not, though.” Tears are filling her eyes again. “You’re eventually going to go back to your life like nothing happened.”

“That’s not true, dear. Just because I didn’t know your father and don’t yet know you or your brothers well doesn’t mean that I am unaffected by your loss. As I said before, I know what it’s like to lose a loved one. It’s true that losing a sister isn’t the same as losing a father, but it hurts to live without her.”

“Even now?”

What she’s really asking is if her father’s loss will ever stop hurting her. I answer her truthfully. “Yes. It will always hurt.” Then I lie. “But I’ve learned to give that pain its place and not allow it an inch more than it deserves.”

She looks away, and the tears start escaping her eyes and coursing down her cheeks. "I can't stop it, though. I just want my Daddy back."

Her voice breaks, and she buries her head in her hands. I let her cry for a moment, then lay a hand on her shoulder. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away, and after a moment, she relaxes.

We sit there in silence for a while. Adults underestimate the value of silence when it comes to children. We feel that everything must be explained to them and that we must direct all of their steps, but often, the best thing we can do is allow them to navigate the hardships of life themselves.

But not on their own. Never on their own.

Finally, she draws in a wavery breath and lifts her gaze. She eyes the tea, then takes another sip. “I guess it’s not that bad.”

“My dear,” I say seriously, “it is the greatest beverage known to humankind.”

She meets my eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Yes. You’ve said that already.”

She chuckles and takes another sip of tea. “I’m sorry I’ve been mean to you. I just…” she shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like… I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I say. “But know that I’m here when you do.”

She gives me a small smile. “Thank you.”

After tea, we head upstairs to Samuel’s room and keep him company while he convalesces. I put on a nature documentary and enjoy the sight of Isabella tenderly stroking her brother’s hair while he rests.

The moment is heartwarming, but not enough to shake the disquiet I feel. Isabella gave me that note for a reason. Her disdain for Elena is motivated by more than her father’s business rivalry and her mother’s dislike of the woman.

I know it’s too early to draw any conclusions, but the more I learn about Elena, the more likely it seems that she could have something to do with Johnathan’s death.

***

The children retire early that evening. Their own choice. Samuel is exhausted from his illness. The medicine cools the fever and calms his symptoms somewhat, but his body understands instinctively that the best way to combat this malady is to rest and allow his own immune system to fight.

Isabella is exhausted from the emotional weight of our conversation. It’s not easy to confide in someone else, let alone a stranger. Her mind understands that with the same instinct as Samuel’s body and chooses to sleep to process those emotions.

Elijah is exhausted from the emotional weight of being the oldest child and not knowing how to accept his own grief without feeling that he’s betraying his siblings. That’s why he flees for his excursions to the deep grounds. He wants to grieve, but he can’t do it in front of them. He can’t do it in front of anyone. He’s supposed to be a man, and men don’t show weakness.

I wonder when we’ll finally rid society of that ridiculous notion. I wonder if that ridiculous notion is necessary for society to survive. There are too many rabbit trails to follow there.

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