Page 86 of Seer

Mother looks at him like she’s actually seeing him for the first time. She gasps softly. “Edward? Why are your eyes bandaged?” She frowns at me inquisitively. “What happened to your brother?”

Edward holds out his arms in a general direction. “Mother…” he whispers brokenly. “Hold me in your arms.”

“My spirit is broken, mother.”

Our mother quickly goes over to gather him in her arms. Edward drops his head on her shoulder, sobbing loudly.

My heart breaks all over again for Edward. One minute he’s acting all pitiful and remorseful. The next, he’s raging and attacking everyone in sight. He’s truly broken–maybe he always has been. I hope to talk to Mother about his mental condition later.

“Nicholas?”

I turn around to see the owner of the soft voice. I stare in shock into the face of the raven-haired beauty in front of me. She has her hand placed lovingly on the shoulders of a solemn-faced little boy who strongly bears the physical trait of the Abner family.

“Dana?” I call tentatively. “Is that you?”

She bobs her head up and down, smiling at me despite the tears that glisten in her eyes. She walks over and wraps her arms around my neck. “God, I’m glad you’re alright. I was really scared when your friends came by.”

I pull back to look at her face. “Thanks for looking out for me. Pocus told how you helped.”

Dana shrugs guiltily. “To be honest, I just didn’t want Henry to have to carry the burden you do.”

“And that’s perfectly all right,” I say, taking her hands in mine to give her a reassuring squeeze. “It goes a long way to show that you’re a good mother and a good person. Your boy is lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Nick,” Dana says with an appreciative smile and I nod softly in response.

I go on my knees in front of the littlest of us boys, so I’m at his eye level. “Hi,” I say, holding out my hand with a big smile. “My name is Nicholas. And you must be Henry?”

He nods quietly, politely taking my large palm in his much smaller one. “Nice to meet you, Uncle Nicholas.”

“You’re a brave little lad,” I say, ruffling his hair a little before rising to my feet.

“Nicholas?” Mom calls from her place on the long couch, where Edward lays his head on her lap while she runs her hands through his curls in soothing circles.

She used to do that whenever we were in trouble as kids.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Your father….”

My chest sinks at the mention of my father. Somewhere deep down in my heart, I wished I could avoid him altogether. But I also knew that my journey toward forgiveness could not be complete without him.

“What about father?” I ask, searching her worried face.

“He’s very sick,” Mother replies sadly. “He doesn’t have much time left.”

A few minutes later, I’m standing hesitantly at the entrance to father’s room. I can hear the raspy sound of his breathing from where I stand. It’s shallow – too shallow. Suddenly his eyes open, and our gazes meet. He stares at me, and his expression is unreadable. I wait, my heart pulsing in an irregular rhythm – I can’t tell if my heart is beating so fast because of the inbuilt fear for the man or because I still haven’t let go of my animosity toward him. I watch him try to raise his hand, but it takes too much effort.

“Come, son,” he calls weakly.

My heart skips a beat at the word ‘son.’ I walk over to his bedside, and he gestures for me to sit. He strains the hand closest to mine, and I quickly place my hand on his. It was a reflexive action, but I leave it where it sits. Father’s hand tightens over mine in a surprisingly strong grip.

“I’m sorry, Son,” he says, looking directly into my eyes. “For everything. Forgive me.”

I place my second hand over our joint hands. “I already have, father.”

“Thank you,” he mutters weakly. “Thank you for coming back home.”

Home… can I really refer to the Abner mansion as home?

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