It’s all my fault, he thought.
Michael turned and raced through the hallway and up the second flight of stairs to his bedroom, covering his ears. It was such a small house that even conversations in the basement could be heard through the heating vents.
Whack!
Today was no different.
Michael curled into a tight ball on his bed even though he knew it was over. After a minute, he sat up, wiping his face with the bottom of his T-shirt.
Someone was coming upstairs. Michael jumped off his bed and ran to the hallway. Sammie stood near the top of the stairs. Her face was splotchy from crying, and he could see the marks on her arm. They looked at each other for a moment. Her blue eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry, Sammie,” Michael said as his voice started to break. “If you can’t go to the birthday party tomorrow, I’ll play with you . . . whatever you want to play, even dolls.”
Samantha nodded and tried to smile. She turned and headed down the hall to her room.
Michael followed her, making sure she got there safely.
9
FALLING
BACK UP
Elizabeth joined Michael on the rooftop that evening while Leah remained downstairs. The previous day’s events had left them exhausted both emotionally and physically. For a while they sat in silence, enjoying the peaceful view before them.
Michael was the first to break the silence. “It’s so beautiful here at night.” He caught Elizabeth studying him thoughtfully. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” When he refused to look away, she shrugged. “It’s just rare that I see you”—she hunted for the word—“smile.”
“I smile!”
“No, Dad, you don’t.”
Michael thought a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t, do I?”
“Nope.”
He sighed. “I guess I haven’t had much to smile about over the years.” After an awkward moment of silence, he added, “I miss your mom.”
Elizabeth shifted nervously and tried to change the subject. “Look at those stars, Dad.” She pointed to a cluster in the sky.
Michael stared at his daughter. “Elizabeth, you always change the subject when I talk about Mom. Why?”
She looked away. “No reason.”
“There’s got to be some reason.”
“There’s no reason, Dad, okay?” Elizabeth edged away slightly, still focusing on a group of stars in the clear, dark sky. “So pretty,” she tried to say, but the words got stuck in her throat.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. It’s not easy for me to talk about Mom either. I just felt this was a good time.”
Elizabeth cried harder, and Michael wrapped his arms around her. “Talk to me, sweetie.”
She turned to look at him, eyes red and watery. “Do you really want to know how I feel about Mom?”
“I think so, but we really haven’t talked much about her.”
Elizabeth tried to wipe away her tears. “I feel terrible. I feel horrible. I get so upset when you mention her.”
“Why? Why would you get upset? Haven’t I told you how much we wanted you? How excited we were when we found out it was going to be you?”
She nodded weakly.
“Then why do you feel so horrible when I talk about her?”
Elizabeth leaned against him and sobbed heavily. “Because she died when I was born.”
Michael held her tightly and rubbed her back. “Oh, honey, oh, honey. You don’t think she would have lived if you weren’t born?”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“No!” he said emphatically, cutting her off. “I can’t believe you ever thought that. Why would you ever think that?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken much about that night.”
“Well, but I think you can understand why I don’t like to talk about it, right?”
Elizabeth nodded again.
“You know, Elizabeth, I have never been able to forget that night for many reasons. First, I lost my best friend. Second, I feel responsible.”
“Responsible?”
Michael hung his head. “If I had just stopped her . . .” His voice trembled and then trailed off.
“There’s nothing you could have done, Daddy.”
They sat there quietly for several minutes, gazing upward at the night sky in all its heavenly glory. Suddenly Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Have you ever thought about finding someone else?” she blurted out.
He paused a moment before answering, “I have. Then I wonder what your mom would think. Would she be okay about it?”
Elizabeth looked at him questioningly so he attempted to lighten the mood. “Or would she be waiting for me at the pearly gates, ready to scold me?”
Elizabeth giggled weakly, and he continued, “I haven’t really met many women over the years.”
“Leah seems to know you.”
Michael sat back. “I don’t know why. I’ve never seen her. Not even back in Northport.”
“I know. But she keeps on saying she knows you.” Elizabeth dropped her voice. “Do you think she’s crazy? She told me she lost her husband.”
He shrugged. “Maybe she’s just confused because she’s still grieving. I remember after your mom passed away I would be walking down Main Street and I would think I had seen her.” Michael shook his head. “Once I even ran up to some poor woman on the street. The back of her head looked just like your mom. I felt so bad. I scared her when I started yelling your mom’s name until she turned around.”
Elizabeth started to tear up again and he quickly backtracked. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m talking about your mom again.”
“No. It’s okay, Dad.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because even though it was impossible, I was hoping you were going to tell me that it really was her.”
He had absolutely nothing to say to that because he’d wished the same thing a million times himself.
Michael awoke well rested the next day. His feet were starting to scab over and he felt more energetic. Elizabeth was still sound asleep, exhausted from the chores she shared with Leah and her rooftop talk. Her long brown hair was nestled underneath a woolen blanket. She looked so grown-up yet oddly vulnerable. Michael was still amazed at how well Elizabeth had handled the lamb the day before.
He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She rolled over slightly, alarming Michael, since he wanted her to sleep in so that she was fully rested for their trip into town to find the tunnel. Yesterday had been reassuring, and he felt it was time to go back, but he didn’t want to wake her too soon.
He backed away quietly, looking out through the second-floor window. Although it was dark outside, the early-morning light was about to appear. He walked past the alcove where he knew Leah was still sleeping, having heard her quiet, shallow breathing. He tiptoed to the ladder and gingerly descended.
Michael walked into the kitchen area and began searching through covered baskets for something to make for breakfast. He thought maybe this could be the day he would repay Leah for her help.
Why not prepare breakfast?
It was dark in the kitchen except for the last few embers still gleaming in the fire. He took some wood out of a basket and added it to the hearth. When he started to blow on it, black smoke en-gulfed him.
Oh, no, what have I done? He kicked off a large piece of smoldering wood. He grabbed some kindling and looked for a hot spot to place it. When he did, it seemed to ignite a flame.
Michael threw some grains from a nearby basket into a pot and poured water over them. He was impressed with himself. This was just like making oatmeal at home.
I’m not working with a Viking oven, but I’m certainly no Viking.