When the Heart Falls

I hold it in front of his face so he can see it. It’s a picture I took of Winter overlooking Paris. "This is what it looks like from up there. You can see all sorts of places. The Arch de Triomphe, the Iéna Bridge.” Stevie shoves his hand at the picture and grunts. I smile. “That’s Winter. She’s really special. I know she’d love you. I hope you can meet her someday. I want to show you all of these places, too." My voice cracks as a tear slides down his face. I can’t be selfish with him. Not with him. He’s staring into me with his eyes, too big for his face, and I know what he’s asking, what he needs from me. I just don’t know if I have the strength to give it to him. But I have to, because this is what it means to love selflessly.

“But you know what?” I put the picture down on a side table beside Stevie so he can see it always. "I feel like we're there already. And it's beautiful Stevie, just like you said it'd be. It's beautiful. I carried you with me all those places, and I’ll carry you with me forever."

Now tears are streaming down my face as I dig deeper for the courage to say what he needs to hear. My parents will never forgive me, but I’m doing this for him, not them. Not me. Him. “It’s okay, Stevie. I know. I know this body is too weak to hold you anymore. You’re too strong, too big for this world. We’ll be okay. I’ll take care of Mom and Dad. So, little brother… ” my voice falters, but I force myself to finish, “if you need to go, if you need to leave now, it’s okay. Find Pete, he’ll take good care of you.”

Stevie’s face shines with an inner light I’ve never seen in him, his crippled face smiles and, with the picture of Paris on one side, and me on the other holding his hand, he closes his eyes.

And he dies.





CADE SAVAGE





CHAPTER 31





FOR TWO DAYS I live in a house haunted by both of my dead brothers. I feel them everywhere, and the silence of their voices screams in my soul. My mother grieves with huge sobs that sound like they will escape her body and crush us all. My father grieves with icy silence and cutting jabs at those around him. He becomes a weapon, inflicting pain on anyone who dares come near him.

I retreat with my grief, shutting down. If Winter were here I’d open up to her, but I can’t do that over the phone, with distance delaying each word, and static cutting into our thoughts. So I have no one.

The day of the funeral, my father and I look too much alike with our suits, our straight backs and hard faces hiding our emotions. My mother clings to him, her cheek splotched in red, her pain evident on every line of her face. She’s aged since I got here. Stevie’s death stole life from her.

Most of the town has shown up for the graveside goodbyes, though few knew Stevie well at all since the accident. Our family name is enough to draw a crowd, that and our family curse of losing the young men to death. Eyes avoid mine, but I can read their thoughts on their faces. They’re wondering if I’ll be next. If the Savage curse will claim all three promising boys.

Our pastor says words meant to be comforting, but I can’t think. I’m focused on the coffin in the ground, waiting for dirt to cover it. My little brother is in there, just a few feet from where my big brother lays buried. I’ll never see Stevie again. Never talk to him or see his eyes light up when his favorite show comes on. We lost him once to the accident that claimed the use of his body. And now we’ve lost him again.

It’s too much, and I wonder why God, if there is a God, didn’t take him the first time. Why did he have to suffer all these years just to die now?

A few close friends of the family, including Doc, take turns speaking about Stevie, his love of life, the spark in him that could never be destroyed. I want to say something, to testify about his life, about the impact he had on me, but my words are stuck.

Instead my dad speaks up, and the sound of his voice burns like acid.

“Stevie is our youngest boy, the baby of the family. It’s cruel for a parent to ever outlive their child, especially cruel to outlive two of their sons, and Stevie will especially be missed.” Despite the sadness evident on my dad’s face as he speaks, his words anger me. He will be ‘especially’ missed? Was Pete not missed because you couldn’t love him through your hatred, Dad?

But he doesn’t hear my thoughts, and he keeps talking, about our family, about my mother and the joy Stevie was to her when he was born, the miracle baby they thought they couldn’t have. “And now we are left with Cade, who has been the rock in our family for so long, keeping Stevie strong, keeping Stevie alive, keeping our family name and business running. When Cade left, something in Stevie died. And when I had to fly to Paris to get my son who couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone, I lost my last chance to say goodbye to my boy.”