I swayed, staring at Nate. “Let’s go, Lena,” Russell said, trying to pull me away.
“No, I won’t let you take her.” Nate stood tall in a white T-shirt and faded black jeans belted low on his narrow hips. He ran his fingers through his dark, tousled hair. The slits of his eyes seemed smaller but the green color was still piercing as he peered at me. Even though he was thinner than Russell, Nate carried himself confidently. The veins in his hands and forearms and the cut muscles in his upper arms made him seem much more intimidating than a bigger man.
Russell reached past me, his arm swinging wildly in a punch toward Nate. With his hands still in his pockets, Nate smoothly moved to one side and watched in amusement as Russell fell to the ground.
Nate grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go.” Russell was on his feet in a second and coming after us.
Nate turned quickly and popped Russell in the nose with one swift jab. There was a crunching sound and then Russell fell to the ground, holding his face and bleeding like a pig. I stared down at him and watched the red stream gush from his nose and run down his neck onto the floor.
I let out a loud sob then fell to my knees. “Jake?” I knew it wasn’t him but the image was the same.
In the front room, seconds after I’d heard the gun go off, I’d found my Jake lying there, eyes open but unaware. He’d been alive for a few seconds but not breathing. It’d been hard for me to touch him, but I had. Sitting on the floor of the bar, I replayed the last seconds of Jake’s life as I held Russell’s head in my lap. “Why?” was all I’d said to Jake, knowing I’d never get the answer. The last thing I’d heard that night was the gurgling in his throat and the last beats of his heart, the last human sound Jake had made before his soul faded away and the life drained from his eyes.
I snapped back to reality to see Nate looking doleful and watching me apprehensively. Russell was also staring at me as I sobbed. For a moment, even with blood gushing from his nose, Russell looked compassionate. He glanced up at Nate and said, “You should take her out of here,” and then he looked at me. “Go, sweetheart, I’m fine.” I know I must have looked pathetic. How could God be so cruel to let our memories live on vividly like images on a movie screen to play over and over as we watch in horror?
I continued to cry quietly as Nate lifted me off the ground. He carried me out into the pouring rain to a bright red and white truck. He got into the passenger seat and held me on his lap. In a barely audible voice he said, “I’m here,” and kissed me gently on the forehead. After a while he scooted me off of his lap and slid over to the driver’s seat. As we drove off, I rolled down the window, rested my head on the door, and let the cold rain beat down on me. A sad song droned on the radio while I shivered and sobbed.
CHAPTER 16
Love Is Fear
Nathanial
My hand throbbed. I knew I had a fracture from punching that guy, but at the moment Ava had my attention. Her eyes were sunken, her skin pale when I found her. When she fell to the ground into hysterics, I could see that the guy was startled. I knew what she was seeing in the image of a man lying on the floor, bleeding. I knew what she was feeling. The frustration of knowing it’s too late and there’s nothing to be done.
“Come on,” I urged, but she couldn’t hear me. She looked distant and lost in thought.
In the truck she rolled down the window and let the rain wash over her. Halfway home, the rain stopped but there was lightning in the distance, and the air grew warmer as we approached the ranch. I pulled over at the end of the long dirt driveway.
Her eyes were closed and her hair had dried in the wind. I pulled her off the door and rolled up the window then laid her down across the bench seat. She was asleep. I sucked air in through my teeth when I bent my hand awkwardly, feeling the strain of the fracture in the knuckle of my index finger. Ava stirred.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing, don’t worry.”
She sat up and moved toward me, taking my hand in hers. She kissed it. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it, though?” Her voice was strained.
I cupped her face, turning her toward me. “Listen to me. It wasn’t your fault, just like Jake wasn’t your fault.”
She pulled away and looked out the passenger window. I started the truck and headed up the driveway. It was the middle of the night but Redman was awake, sitting in the rocker on the porch, smoking his pipe. I cut the engine, got out, and walked quickly to the passenger side. After helping Ava out, I looked up to see Bea standing in the doorway, waiting.
“Bring her here, Nathanial.”
Bea stepped out of the doorway and reached for Ava’s hand. “Come here, sweetie. Let’s give you a bath.”