Page 29 of This and Every Life
“Abe,” I croak. “I’ve been found out.”
He stiffens further, his voice a harsh whisper. “Jasper.”
“I’m leaving. I must.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Another sob wracks my throat. “You can’t. Your mother.”
“I…”
This time, it’s me soothing Abraham. I run my palms along his neck, anchoring there, his skin warm and his pulse feathering against me. His mother would not survive without him; we both know it to be true. She hasn’t the means to do so. Nor can she travel. I would never—could never—ask Abraham to choose me instead.
“You cannot leave your mother,” I voice softly. “And I cannot stay. If they learn who you are, you’ll be killed. If I don’t go, Isuffer the same. If we run together, we condemn your mother to death. There is but one choice here.”
Abraham looks as if he’s been gutted. “Oh, my heart.”
“You know I am right.”
He lays his forehead to mine, his whole body shaking. “There must be a way.”
“This is not a battle we win, my warrior.”
The sound he makes tears at me viciously. Tears run down my cheeks. Down Abraham’s. His voice is no more than a rasp. “I cannot watch you go.”
“Then you will not watch.”
Abraham rubs his jaw along my cheek, his breath stuttering, his tears hot on my skin. “Please don’t ask this of me, Jasper. How am I to let you walk away from me? How am I to live with it?”
“Abe,” I say roughly. “Youmust. You must live and live well. It will be my only consolation, my only salve, to know you are here, healthy and strong. I will not survive it otherwise. I do not wish to know a world that does not have you in it. Please.Please, live as happily as you can. For me.”
His lips find my temple, and my eyes slip shut. If I could prolong this moment, I would. I’d live in it forever. But I know I must go. I must run. And soon.
I could not bear it if Abraham had to watch me be put to death.
“Where are you to go?” The question seems to pain him, hoarsely spoken as it is.
“I do not know. Far away, I suspect.”
He pulls in a reedy breath, his chest shuddering against me. “Will… Will I ever see you again?”
My swallow is harsh. “In this life? I am not certain. If there is a way for me to safely return to you, I will find it, Abraham. I promise you that.”
“Jasper.” He rocks me, his face buried in my hair. “My heart. My star. My love. Whoever it was that wove the fabric of my being did it with you in mind. I was made to love you. And I will do so no matter where on this earth you are. My love for you will never, ever flicker out.”
“Then I will look at the stars,” I say, voice catching, “and be reminded of it every day.”
Abraham holds me as the moon reflects gently off the surface of the creek. The stars fill the sky with their twinkling light, the sword high to the north, blade aimed as if ready to pierce a heart.
It feels as if it’s piercing mine.
“I must go,” I say at last.
Abraham doesn’t loosen his hold.
“Abe,” I say softly, pulling his face around. I kiss him in a gentle press, lips meeting, a greeting, a farewell, beauty and sorrow. I offer him my own promise. The only reassurance I can give. “I will love you no matter where. No matter when.”
He nods, even as a terrible sound leaves his throat.
