And then I saw Moses.
He was lying on his side on the kitchen floor, blood growing in an ever-widening pool around his body, and Tag was turning him, trying to staunch the flow of blood, cursing Moses, cursing God, cursing himself.
And just like when Gigi died all those years ago, when Moses was covered in paint instead of blood, when death was on the walls instead of in his eyes, I ran to him. And just like before, I was helpless to do anything for him.
Moses
IT WAS LIGHT, I FELT SAFE, and I was perfectly aware of who I was and where I was. Eli stood beside me, his hand in mine, and from a distance there were others too, coming toward me. If I had to paint it all, I doubt I could, but maybe paint could better capture it than words. Yet even with the soft effervescence and the unyielding light all around me, it was Eli who held my attention. He lifted his chin and contemplated me, searching my face. And then he smiled.
“You’re my dad.” His voice was clear and sweet, and I recognized it from the memories he’d shared with me, though it was easier to hear now, unfiltered, crystalline almost.
“Yes,” I nodded, gazing down at him. “I am. And you’re my son.”
“I’m Eli. And you love me.”
“I do.”
“I love you too. And you love my mom.”
“Yes,” I whispered, wishing with all my soul that Georgia was here. “I hate that she’s alone now.”
“She won’t be alone forever. It passes so fast,” Eli said wisely, even gently.
“Do you think she knows how much I love her?”
“You gave her flowers and said you were sorry.”
“I did.”
“You kissed her.”
I could only nod.
“You painted her pictures and hugged her when she cried.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“You laughed with her too.”
I nodded again.
“Those are all the ways to say I love you.”
“They are?”
Eli nodded emphatically. He was quiet for a moment as if he was mulling something over. And then he spoke again.
“Sometimes you can choose, you know.”
“What?” I asked.“Sometimes you can choose. Most people choose to stay. It’s beautiful here.”
“Did you choose to stay?”
Eli shook his head. “Sometimes you can choose. Sometimes you can’t.”
I waited, my eyes soaking him in. He was so clear, so sharp, so present and perfect that I wanted to take him in my arms and never let him go.
“Did someone come for you when you died, Eli?” I said, almost pleading, needing to know someone had.
“Yes. Gigi did. And Grandma too.”
“Grandma?”
“Your mom, silly.”
I grinned at him. He reminded me of Georgia, but I felt the grin fade almost immediately. “I didn’t know if my mom would be here. She wasn’t a very good person,” I replied softly. It surprised me to hear him call her grandma as if she fulfilled that role as well as Gigi did.
“Some people mean to be bad. Some people don’t. Grandma didn’t mean to be bad.” It was such a basic concept, said with such child-like wisdom and such a simple acceptance of good versus evil, that I had no response but one.
“Can I hold you, Eli?”
He smiled and was immediately in my arms, his own arms around my neck. And I buried my head in his curls and felt the silk of the dark strands tickle my nose. He smelled like baby powder, clean straw, and freshly laundered socks. I caught a hint of Georgia’s perfume, as if she’d held him tightly just like this, right before he left her, and he’d carried her with him ever since. He was warm and wiggly and his cheek was smooth and soft as he pressed it against mine.
When we dream we don’t know we dream. In our dreams our bodies are solid, we touch, we kiss, we run, we feel. Our thoughts somehow create reality. It was like that here too. I knew I didn’t have a body and neither did Eli. And it didn’t matter. Eli was solid and whole in my arms and I was holding my son. And I never wanted to let go.
Eli pulled away slightly and looked at me seriously, his brown eyes so like his mother’s that I wanted to drown in them. Then he unlocked his arms from around my neck and held my face in his small hands.
“You have to choose, Dad.”
Georgia
MOSES DIED ON THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL. That’s what they told me later. They wouldn’t let us ride with him, so Tag and I jumped in his Hummer and followed the ambulance, breaking speed records and stumbling into the emergency room when we finally reached Nephi.
And then we waited, clinging to each other, while they tried to bring Moses back. Tag’s face was white and his hands shook with horror as he told me that he believed Jacob Dawson had killed his sister, and probably all the other girls as well.
“Moses called me this morning, Georgia. He asked about the brand on Calico, about the circle A. And it nagged at me. I ended up calling my dad and asking him about it, just on the off-chance he knew something. And he told me the circle A was Jacob Dawson’s brand. We bought a couple of horses from him the summer Molly disappeared. The horses we bought had that brand. My father even gave one of them to Molly.”
“Anderson ranches,” I supplied, numbly. “Jacob Dawson’s mother was an Anderson. She inherited the ranch and her brother inherited the mill when their father died. She handed the ranch and all the livestock over to Sheriff Dawson when he turned twenty-one.”