Clear and Bright: Chapter Twenty One: Warm

Today's the big day. I'm pretty sure the doc's giving me my walking papers today, accompanied by a pair of hideous crutches. I have no intentions of using them, and I doubt the need to will arise. Between Jaimin, Caressa, and Aricin, I'm either carried around like a little doll or waited on like royalty. A girl could get used to this.

My head is back to normal, and I can even feed myself without injury. Thank you, hands. I was seriously freaking out about that. But the best development of all? My sparkle has returned, and I don't have to see sad, worried faces all around me anymore.

My favorite face has stepped out for a bit, to do what I'm not sure - when I asked him, he said the details would be revealed to me as he saw fit - but the epic show of trust he's shown, by leaving me with my current brat-sitter, as he so recently termed the detail, is just that... epic.

"Loring, could you hand me that sweater? It's freezing in here."

"Or maybe you're just trying to cover up those bruises on your arm? I saw them days ago, Claire, I was just waiting for you to feel better before we discussed them. And don't even consider blaming them on a more recent incident, because I know better."

Geez, are they ever going to go away? "I wasn't going to, detective, and I'm not trying to cover up anything. I really am cold."

I did feel his eyes on my arm, but I am freezing. I've taken this cardigan on and off today more times than I can count. He brings it to me and holds it open for me to put my arms through, his eyes boring a hole through me. He's totally in cop mode... or maybe it's friend mode... or maybe there's no difference...

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Stop pretending I'm not waiting for an explanation."

"I know you... and there's no way that you didn't already demand one from him."

"You're damn right I did, and now I want one from you."

"He's very honest. Whatever he told you is exactly what happened. There's no need for me to repeat it."

"No man has the right to hold you against your will, Claire."

"He wasn't."

He gives me an understanding nod, and reaches for my hand, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I just want to see everything. My eyes are open now... like they should have been before... "

"I don't blame you. And I don't want you to blame yourself." I give his hand an affectionate squeeze. "For anything."

"Well, he made his choices. I wish things had happened differently, but I can't do anything about that now. I did what I had to do... he made the choice for both of us."

"I'm sorry. I really am. That wasn't fair to you."

"No, Claire, it wasn't fair to you. I told you to trust me. I told you I'd take care of it. I let you down. I'm the one that's sorry... "

"You're forgiven."

"I haven't earned that."

"And don't think you have to by being oversuspicious of Jaimin. I won't hesitate to call you if I'm in trouble, but wait for me to call. He didn't mean to hurt me, and he's not a danger to me. You asked me to trust you many times, and I did... I'm asking you to trust me this time. I love him. And I'm glad he didn't let go. I'm glad he held on tight. You should only worry about me if he ever does let go."

"Even I know he's never going to do that. I just need to know that you don't want him to."

"I don't."

He lifts my chin with his free hand. "I'll kill him if I ever see another bruise on you."

"I'll pass along that message." Or not...

"I already told him."

"You know... he left you alone with me... I don't think you realize how monumental that is. Well, I do, and now I'm asking you to show him some respect."

"I respect what he'd do to protect you. But I don't think you realize what kind of a man he really is. I know you're in love with him. I know how monumental that is for you, and I'm happy for you, but I'm worried, too. It's fast, Claire... so damn fast. You hardly know him. Maybe you only see what's on the surface... or what he wants you to see. He's intense, and I get how you might find that appealing, but I'm afraid you're too smitten by it to see the danger that lurks there."

"Yes, he's intense. I don't deny that, but there's nothing lurking. My eyes are open, too."

"Really? Do you have any idea how capable of violence he is?"

"Yes, I do. I've seen it."

"I'm not talking about holding on too tight... "

"I know."

"I don't think you do."

"Loring... I know. I've seen him angry with people he didn't care about. I know what he did to Nadine, and not just because she said so, he told me. He doesn't hide things from me. I see all sides... all layers... I'm not in the dark."

"And you're not afraid?"

"No."

"I don't think he values women. That alone should scare you."

"You're right, he doesn't, but I'm not afraid. I know I'm an exception to that."

"Do you hear yourself?"

"Yes. I didn't say he was perfect. But I know, more than anyone, how much he loves me. I know what I mean to him. I know the value he places on me. The only thing I fear is that someday he'll get tired of my shit, but it's only a small fear, because I really don't think he will. I'm hard to leave. Maybe even impossible."

"His arrogance is rubbing off on you."

"He makes me feel beautiful."

"You already know you're beautiful."

"Everyone knows I'm beautiful."

"He's creating a monster."

"Monsters wish they looked like this," I say with a smirk.

He laughs, shaking his head, "I missed you. I shouldn't have let Leal... "

"It was painful for him to see us have a relationship. I understood."

"I think it was more than that. I think he was jealous, in an irrational way. Jealous of something that wasn't there. Something he created in his head. As beautiful as you are, I've never thought of you that way."

"I know."

"I should have seen it. And I should have stuck by you. I did a lot of things wrong, and I'm sorry."

"I knew you were there."

"Not like I should have been."

"You're here now. It means a lot to me... but I don't want you to suffer to show me you care. I know you do... you don't have to prove anything to me. And you don't owe me anything. I can't comfort you... I am sorry for the hurt you must feel, but ... "

"I'm not asking you to comfort me. I'm not suffering. I'm here because I care about you, and I was worried about you. And to beg for your forgiveness, which you gave me much too easily."

"Maybe I just have a soft spot for you."

"Maybe you can explain that," Jaimin says icily as he walks into my room. "In fact, I insist on it."

I frown at him, and say sweetly "It's just one little spot. All the rest belong to you. You have only to claim them. Please."

"You may be overestimating my patience and understanding, Claire. Interpretation, remember?"

Why does he look so angry? "What?"

Loring laughs and squeezes my hand, and brings it to his lips. "I don't think he likes this," and plants an exaggerated kiss on it.

Oh. Shit.

"Stop that!" I yell, pulling my hand free and slapping him. "It's not funny! Go back to your chair!"

He laughs again and moves from the bed. Jaimin shows tremendous restraint by not dismembering him as he walks past him chuckling, but if looks could kill...

La la la...  Stormy weather...


You're not funny, either.

Well, here goes... "Jaimin, keeping in mind what you see and don't question, may I request that your interpretation return to its previously unclouded state, and that we have some sunshine in our day? I'm already cold and tired, I'm really not up for a thrashing storm. Please?"

He looks at me intently, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched, and rakes his hands through his hair. He's struggling. Too much. I don't understand why, and I'm truly exhausted, but if I have to weather another storm to soothe him, then I will.

"If you really doubt me, then ask me anything. I'll answer... I'll explain... What don't you know? What aren't you sure of? What do you need?"

He hasn't even answered yet... hasn't uttered a single angry syllable, but I feel like I just got my ass beat. Thrashed. Hard. In the time it took the words to flow from my mouth. What the hell just happened? I rub my eyes and sink down into the bed, too tired to sit up anymore. I snuggle under the blanket and wait for the onslaught, but it doesn't come.

He shoots Loring one last dagger and comes to my side, pulling the extra blanket up from the foot of the bed. "I don't doubt you," he says with a sigh, "I don't want you to feel that way. I didn't mean to... Are you alright, sweetheart? You look pale."

A violent chill suddenly runs through me just as he bends to tuck the blanket around me and kiss my forehead in a silent promise of sunshine. "Jesus, Claire, you're burning up!" His hands are all over me as he yells at Loring, who's now back up from his chair. "How the hell could you touch her and not feel that?"

Loring grabs my hand in bewilderment. "She didn't feel like that a few minutes ago!"

I watch him run out of the room and I know I'm doomed. "I wanted to go home today," I say sadly.

"I know you did, but if you're sick, you need to stay right here."

He was just starting not to look worried all of the time. So much for that. "I'm not sick," I try, but the weakness that has taken instant hold of my body is clear in my small voice.

His genuine fear is just as clear in his, "You're burning up with fever... "

"Hurry and put ice on me before someone comes to take my temperature... "

"I heard that," the doctor scowls, coming in with Loring and a nurse.

"I'm not sick," I try again, "Those nurses don't like me. They have some kind of remote control out there and they've been playing with my thermostat all day to torment me."

The nurse rolls her eyes at me and holds the thermometer impatiently in front of my mouth.

I don't open. Even if I wanted to, it seems a daunting task.

I roll my tired eyes in turn as the doctor and nurse both look to Jaimin for assistance with their difficult patient, fully and gratefully aware of the order of things.

"Claire."

I knew that was coming. Maybe I can appeal to his soft side. I grab onto his arm and lean my head against him. "But they won't let you take me home if it says something bad."

He strokes my hair, but doesn't waver, his command soft. "Open."

I look up at him with sad eyes, but his worried expression is enough to stop my sweet-natured tantrum in its tracks, and with more effort than it should require, I open my mouth in defeat.

The nurse is smug as she slips the thermometer under my tongue, and I can see her thoughts as if she spoke them - Was taking you home supposed to be a pleasant thought to him? -  but she doesn't say it out loud, of course, and her expression warms slightly when it beeps and she announces the results. "103.9."

Well, ignore her, because you know it is. And get comfortable, because we're certainly not going home now...


I want to argue with her, but I just don't have the energy. My now thousand-pound eyelids are all for comfortable. I definitely don't have the energy to fight with them. Maybe just a little nap... just a few minutes...


                                                         ~ 




Is this what quicksand feels like? Or drowning? No... not drowning, I can breathe. Or maybe being trapped in an avalanche? With an air pocket, since I can breathe. I think the avalanche might be close... I'm so cold, I must be covered in snow. I can hear their gentle voices, calling to me... but I don't have the strength to answer them. I want to raise my arm... to push through to the surface, to let them know I'm down here... but the weight is too much. I can't move. It's just too heavy. Heavy and cold. Why is it so cold?


                                                    ~ Fever...




"Where are all the flowers?"

"They're still there, you just can't see them."

"Are they invisible?"

"No, just covered up."

"Are they sleeping?"

"Yes, they're sleeping."

"When will they wake up? It's morning. I already woke up. Why didn't they?"

"I guess they're still tired."

"When will they stop being tired?"

"In the springtime."

"When is that? After lunch?"

"No, not so soon. Maybe after one hundred lunches. Maybe even more."

"One hundred is a lot."

"It is."

"It's too many. I don't want to wait that long."

"Sometimes we have to be patient."

"I don't want to be patient."

"Do you remember when Grandfather made you hot chocolate, but said to be patient and wait to take a drink?"

"I didn't wait."

"And what happened?"

"It hurt my mouth."

"Because you weren't patient."

"I'm patient now."

"And you must be patient with the flowers."

"But they're not hot."

"No, they're not hot. But for flowers, cold is like hot that hurts your mouth. So they will be patient and wait for springtime. And we have to be patient and wait with them."

"Are they cold?"

"I think their new blanket is keeping them warm."

"Snow is not a blanket. And snow is cold. How can it keep them warm?"

"Snow is cold for us, but for them it is a warm blanket."

"How?"

"Magic, I think."

"My blanket is warm. Is it magic too?"

"It must be."

I think about this as I look at the snow. No...

"It's not magic!"

"What isn't, darling?"

"The snow! Take it off!"

"Oh, Claire, why are you upset?"

"Take it off!"

"I can't. I told you we have to be patient. It's only just come. I promise your flowers will come back when they're ready. And while we're waiting, we can get some from the flower shop. You can pick, any kind you want."

No. It will be too late.

"No! Take it off!"

"Claire, I don't understand what's upset you so. We can have lots of fun in the snow while we wait for springtime."

"I hate snow!"

"Because it covered up your flowers?"

Why doesn't she understand?

"Too high?" he asks softly.

Finally. He's here. He understands.

"Grandfather! Take it off! She won't take it off! Too high!"

"We can't take it off... " He crouches down and picks up a handful of snow, and drops it over his head and smiles at me. "But I promise it's okay."

I reach up with my mittened hand and wipe some flakes from his face. "Can you breathe?"

"Yes, my sweet girl, I can breathe."

I look again at the snow-covered field where my flowers used to be, confused and unsure. I watch with wide eyes as he picks up another handful of snow and holds it above my head. Grandmother crouches beside me, looking nervous, but Grandfather knows I'm brave. The snow starts to fall lightly over me, just like it fell from the sky last night when we came home from the fancy party with all the pretty pictures. Only grown ups were there, except for me. They said I had a special invitation, and the lady at the party said I was such a good girl that I could come back whenever I wanted. I want to go back. I like the pictures. I'm going to draw her a picture before I go. But right now Grandfather is making it snow on my head.

"You got snow on my nose!"

He smiles at me.

I try to see it, but I can't.

He laughs.

"I can breathe," I announce bravely.

"So can your flowers. I promise."

"Does the snow blanket have air?" I ask hopefully.

"It does."

"It's magic."

"I think it must be."

"My blanket isn't magic. It makes me warm, but it doesn't have air."

"No, and we'll never put it too high."

"No. I don't like it too high."

"I know."

"Never ever."

"Never ever."

"Are the flowers afraid?" I ask him.

"No."

"Okay."

"Are you afraid?" he asks me.

"No. I'm cold."

"Would you like to go inside?"

"Yes. It's warm inside."

"Okay."

"Can I have hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

"I'll be patient."

He smiles and takes my hand. Grandmother takes my other and we walk together back towards the house.

"I'm sorry I didn't understand," she says, squeezing my hand.

"It's okay. I'm difficult," I reply, recalling my mother's words.

"No, baby... "

"I'm not a baby," I interrupt, "I'll be five tomorrow."

"That's right," Grandfather says, "Have you decided what kind of cake we're going to have?"

"Yes. I decided I want a cake that looks like snow and tastes like chocolate."

He opens the door when we reach the rear of the house and stomps the snow from his boots, smiling at me. "That sounds delicious."

I stomp my feet like he did and then he holds me up in the air and Grandmother pulls off my boots. "Is that difficult?" I ask her.

"No, Claire, and neither are you."

"And flowers!"

"Yes, we're going to get flowers. We'll go after lunch."

"No, for my cake!"

"Oh, well, of course. Would you like them under the snow like your flowers?"

"No! In the snow! Peeking out!"

"Ahhh... like Claire under her blanket that's warm and not too high."

"You understand now."


                                               ~


Boys are stupid! They're stupid and now I'm in trouble. I hate them!

Except Grandfather. And now he's here. And I won't be in trouble anymore. I'm never in trouble with Grandfather. I'm never in trouble with Grandmother, either, and she's here too, but she's not a boy. I hate boys.

"Claire, are you alright?"

I nod and smile at them. They look worried, but smile back at me.

"What happened?" Grandmother asks Miss Martin.

"Well... I don't know exactly. Claire is usually so sweet, and polite... but today she struck another child... I don't know why, she refuses to talk... and the other child won't tell... "

"Struck? Perhaps you're mistaken? You don't seem clear on the details and that doesn't sound like Claire at all."

"Yes, the details of the incident are unclear, however, Claire's involvement is not. Now... "

"Did you see her strike the child?"

"Well, no, but... "

"Then how dare you accuse her of such behavior? This little girl is an absolute angel and I assure you, you are mistaken!"

"With all due respect, Mrs. Beaulieu, angel is a bit of a stretch. She's very sweet if she gets her way, but... "

"Be careful what you say, Miss Martin! ... "

I've never heard Grandmother yell before, except at my mother the day they took me from there, but she's yelling now. It looks like Miss Martin is the one in trouble. Big trouble. Grandmother is angry. I look at Grandfather to see if he's angry at her too, but he is looking at me. He has that face he had last week when I threw my carrots on the floor... like he knows I did something wrong, but if she wouldn't have put them on my plate, I wouldn't have had them to throw. He knows I did it. I smile at him to see if he's angry at me, and he touches Grandmother's arm as he smiles back at me and comes over to the chair Miss Martin made me sit in, kneeling down in front of me. Grandmother stops yelling and sits in the chair next to me, and Miss Martin crosses her arms. She didn't like getting yelled at.

"How was school today?" Grandfather asks me.

I shrug my shoulders.

"So, it's true? You're not talking?"

"Not to her," I whisper.

"What about to me?"

"Can't you hear me?" I ask a little louder.

"I can. Will you tell me what happened today?"

"Zacharie pulled my hair."

"Well, that wasn't very nice. Why did he do that?"

"Because he's stupid. And because we were having a race and I won."

Miss Martin doesn't like that, either.

"We don't use that word in school, Claire."

She looks like a witch. A stupid one.

"I can say whatever I want. And I'm not talking to you!"

Except I just did. The stupid witch tricked me.

And she's mad. But I don't care.

"Don't get upset, just talk to me," Grandfather tells me. "What happened after Zacharie pulled your hair?"

"I told him he's not allowed to touch me."

"That's right, he's not. Then what?"

"He said he can if he wants and I said no he can't and he said yes and I said if he touches me again I'll punch him in the face."

"I see. What happened next?"

"He pulled my hair again and I said he asked for it and he's stupid and I made a fist like this... " I show him my little fist, "and I punched him! Right in the mouth! And I did it good! It was bleeding and everything! And he cried! He's a baby!"

"Good girl, Claire. I'm very proud of you."

"Mr. Beaulieu! We do not condone that kind of behavior!"

"Is that right, Miss Martin? So, it's alright with you if a little girl has her personal space violated? It's alright with you if a boy pulls her hair because she beats him in a race? It's alright with you if she stands up for herself only to be violated again? Well, let me tell you something, Miss Martin, that's not alright with me! I don't condone that kind of behavior! The little shit got what he deserved!"

"Mr. Beaulieu, language! And really... boys will be boys... "

"And girls? What? Should be weak? Should just smile sweetly and let boys be boys?"

"I didn't say... Look, the fact of the matter is... the reason I asked to see you... Claire hit a child. So hard that she made him bleed. That's not acceptable behavior. I would like your support in ensuring that she understands it can not happen again."

"Would you now? And can you ensure us that this little boy, or any little boy- just being a boy- will never pull her hair again, or any other such offense?"

"Little boys are... "

"I didn't think so. We are finished here, Miss Martin. I can ensure you of one thing, however. The next time Claire is treated in any way that she doesn't like, because boys will be boys, she won't sit sweetly and take it. I'll make sure she knows how to knock the offender on their ass, while they cry over their busted lip."

Miss Martin is angry at Grandfather. So angry she can't even talk. Her mouth is open really big. She looks stupid.

Grandfather stands up and picks up my lunchbox with the kittens on it and holds his other hand out for me. I take it and Grandmother takes my other hand and we start to walk out of the classroom. Miss Martin still has her mouth open and she's not even covering it. I can say whatever I want and not get in trouble so I'm going to tell her to close it.

"I'm talking to you now because I have to tell you something. Your mouth is open. That's bad manners. I don't condone that kind of behavior. Close it."

I am really proud of myself for this, and now her eyes are really big like a fish. She looks more stupid than ever. But we're leaving, so I don't have to look at it anymore.

"Can we get ice cream?" I ask, as Grandfather opens my car door and I climb in the back seat.

"I think that's a splendid idea," Grandfather answers as he buckles my seat belt.

He closes my door and I watch as they both get into the car. They both turn to look at me and smile. I hold up my little fist and smile back and they laugh.

I'm never in trouble with Grandfather and Grandmother.


                                                ~


"How was the movie?" my grandmother asks as we come in.

"The movie was over three hours ago," my grandfather chides, glaring at Alex.

"It was nice." I smile at her as I bend to kiss my grandfather's tense face. "You know.. nice," I whisper to him.

"Yes, we enjoyed it," Alex says politely, "And did you have a nice evening, Mr. and Mrs. Beaulieu?"

"We did, thank you, Alex," my grandmother smiles at him sympathetically.

My grandfather is not smiling. "And what have you been doing for three hours?"

I roll my eyes at him, but his haven't moved from Alex.

"Well, sir, after the movie, we went for ice cream and saw some friends. After we left them, we decided to park and... "

Grandfather slams his book closed. I roll my eyes again, and start to speak, but mine is not the explanation he wants to hear. Poor Alex.

"To take a walk, sir," he clarifies confidently, accustomed to the inquisition.

"And where did you walk?"

"Montmartre, sir. I know it's late, I guess we lost track of time, but I promise you that Claire was safe. I'd never put her in danger. I'm sorry if we worried you."

"It is, indeed, late. I'm sure your mother is worried as well. You should be getting home."

Always so honest, "Yes, sir, but I no longer live with my mother... I have my own apartment now."

I can't say I've ever seen that look on my grandfather's face before. Yikes.

"Your own apartment? Since when?"

"Just last week, sir."

"And has Claire seen this apartment?"

Crap.

"Ummm... yes, sir, a few days ago... she wanted to paint something for me... like a housewarming present... she wanted to see it first... but it was in the daytime... after I picked her up from school... I brought her right home after... Mrs. Beaulieu was home... "

"Oh, yes, didn't I mention that? I guess it slipped my mind. But it is exciting, getting your first apartment. These kids are growing up so fast."

Thanks, Grandmother, but I don't think you're helping... growing up so fast? I think Grandfather's head may explode... if he starts breathing again...


"Good night, Alex!"

He's breathing...

"Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Beaulieu."

"Good night, dear. Drive safely," Grandmother says, smiling sweetly.

"I'll walk you out... "

"He knows the way to the door, Claire."

I sigh and Alex smiles at me. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams," he says softly, and kisses me quickly on the cheek and walks out.

Grandfather follows him to the door, and I start to panic, but thankfully he's back quickly.

"Was that really necessary? Are you ever going to be nice to him?"

"I was plenty nice."

"You know, he really likes you. Why don't you like him?"

"If I didn't like him, you wouldn't be spending time with him."

"Then why are you always so hard on him? He's really very sweet... you should trust him more."

"He's eighteen years old."

"So am I, almost."

"He's a boy."

"And?"

"Boys have ideas."

"Alex is a very deep thinker... "

"That's not what I'm referring to, Claire, and you know it."

"Well, even if he does, I have my own mind."

"Boys have a way of confusing girls' minds."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, Claire, but you spend a lot of time with that boy. And now he has his own apartment. Ideas and an apartment are a bad combination. Add a young, smitten girl, and... "

"And nothing happens that I don't want to happen."

"Until his ideas start to sound like good ones. Coupled with your own... "

"Grandfather... I'm still innocent. He hasn't tried to change that. If it helps you to know that. So you won't worry so much."

His relief at my admission is palpable, "He hasn't?"

"No, he hasn't."

But not quite enough to soothe him completely, "Maybe he just hasn't had opportunity. He has his own apartment now... "

"He's had opportunity."

"When?"

"Is that really important?"

"You're important."

"I know, and I love you. Please trust me. And please be nicer to him. He's important, too. To me."

"Important scares me. For you."

"I'm not ready for that. He understands that. He doesn't push. I'm important to him, too. That should make you happy."

"Okay, Claire, I'll try. But I'm keeping my eye on him."

"I know boys will be boys," I make a fist and hold it in the air with a smile, "but I don't have to sit sweetly and say okay. You taught me that a long time ago... I promise I haven't forgotten."

"Good girl. I'm very proud of you."


                                                ~


Grandmother?

Grandfather?

Where are you?

I want to come home.

I'm cold...

and scared...

It's dark...

I want my blanket and I want hot chocolate and I want you.

I miss you.

I'm not brave enough.

I need you.

I want to come home.

But you're not at home anymore...


                                               ~


"Why can't you do anything?"

"We're doing everything we can... "

"It's not enough! It's not working! The fever's not breaking!"

"We'll keep trying... "

"She's not waking up! Why isn't she waking up?"

"At least she's talking. It's a good sign."

"She delirious! How is that a good sign?"

"It could be worse... "

"Don't! Don't you dare!"

"Have hope, Mr. Guillory. Let us take care of her."

"This happened under your care! She's been in this damn place for over a week! If you'd have been taking care of her, this wouldn't have happened! Why didn't you see it coming? How could you not know? How the fuck did you let this happen?"

"You know how quickly it came on. There were no signs of fever or any illness. There was no warning. I was going to let you take her home that day... "

"And now she's been practically unconscious for almost three days while her body is boiling and you aren't helping her!"

"We're trying. I promise you we're trying everything we can. Just keep talking to her. And get some rest before you collapse, or I'll admit you as a patient. And it won't be in here. It won't do her any good if her fever breaks and she wakes up and sees you looking like... "

"Don't say if again in this room!"

"When she... "

The shrill sound that suddenly fills the room, and cuts off the doctor's words, is worse than any silence or delirium-induced chatter that has preceded it.

The sound that now accompanies it would rip any living soul to shreds.


                                                 ~


"Oh, I've missed you so much!"

"Claire? Oh, my sweet angel... what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. You don't look happy to see me. Didn't you miss me?"

"Of course we did, but... "

"But what? Grandfather, why isn't she happy? You're happy to see me, aren't you?"

"Of course, my sweet girl, but not here."

"But this is where you are."

"But not where you should be. Not for a very long time."

"But I miss you both so much... and I was afraid... all alone and in the dark... and it was so cold... but I'm not afraid now. I found you. I'm not alone anymore. And it's warm here."

"You weren't alone, Claire. You were far from alone. You got sick... very, very sick... you just didn't realize... but you were surrounded by people that love you. People that are hurting right now because you're here. They're still there, waiting for you. We love you more than anything, but you don't belong here. Not yet. Do you understand?"

"I don't belong? Oh... I... I'm sorry, I... "

"Oh, my sweet girl... don't misunderstand. You will always belong with us, just not here, not now. You have to go back."

"But I miss you... and it's so hard... "

"We miss you too, but we can't be selfish. We see you. We see you every day. We have to pull the shades sometimes, so to speak, but we're watching, Claire. And we're always with you. Even though you can't see us, we're there. You're never alone. And we're so proud of you. I know it's hard, you've been through so much... so much more than you should have had to endure... and I wish we were there with you, but you're so strong... and so brave... and so loved. It's not time yet. You have to keep fighting. We're not going to let you give up. It's not who you are. You're just tired, but I promise you won't always be. Your life is waiting, sweetheart. You don't belong here now. You know where you belong. It's time to go."

"But I just got here."

"I know, but you can't stay."

"Just for a little while?"

"No, it's better to just go."

"But I miss you so much... "

"You'll come back. And we'll be right here waiting for you. When it's time. You have to be patient."

"Okay. If that's what you want."

"It's what's right for you."

"Okay. Can I ask one thing?"

"Of course you can."

"Is he here?"

"Claire... "

"I just need to know. Please?"

"He's right behind you."

I turn slowly, suddenly afraid. Afraid of what I'll see. Afraid of what I'll feel. Afraid of what I'll see looking back at me. Alex.

But it's the same. He's the same. Exactly how I remember. Almost...

"I knew you'd be here. There's no place else you could be."

"I think you got me here."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh... I see. You blame me."

"No... not like that. Your tears. When a person as special as you cries for someone... "

"I did cry for you."

"I know."

"I'm angry with you."

"I know that, too."

"I would have helped you... I would have tried... if I knew it hurt that much. But you didn't let me know. You called me that day... and acted like everything was good... You sounded happy... "

"I wanted to hear your voice."

"And you lied with yours."

"No... I was happy... because I was talking to you."

"That's not fair."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have given up."

"And neither should you. You have to go back, Claire. He's waiting for you."

"You know about him?"

"Of course I do. I'm watching, too."

"I don't think you should do that."

"There are moments I wish I wasn't."

"It's not many."

"Maybe not for you... "

"Is your father here?"

"Yes, he is."

"So, it doesn't hurt anymore?"

"Only watching you hurts."

"Then stop."

"Go, Claire. Before it's too late."

"I don't want it to be too late."

"You have time, but you have to hurry."

I nod and give him a small smile. I see the love in his eyes. It's still there. He still hurts, but he doesn't want me to. I thought he was selfish for what he did, but he's not being selfish now. I'm right in front of him and he's telling me to go to someone else because he wants me to be happy. He said he watches, so I know he knows. He led me to him. His pain created the path to my happiness. And he's telling me to go back to him.

"Thank you," I whisper softly.

He nods, unable to say any more, and I turn back to my grandparents. They're smiling at me.

"Go, sweet girl."

"I wish you could come with me."

"We are. Always with you."

"I don't know how to get back."

"I'll show you something," Grandmother whispers, "It will hurt, but it will show you the way."

"Okay."

"Before you go... " Grandfather says, holding up his fist, "I think maybe you've forgotten how to use this."

"Boys will be boys... " I sigh.

"I do have a shotgun."

"But he's the right choice, isn't he? I'm not wrong?"

"Let me show you something, too, before you go. It's the answer you seek." He puts his hands gently on either side of my face as he whispers "Close your eyes, sweet girl."

I close them trustingly and I'm instantly in another place... A field of flowers. My flowers. An easel in front of me. Laughter... children's laughter. There are two of them... running... laughing... a boy and a girl... beautiful... happy... their faces... Oh... they can only be... 

I feel his hand stroke my hair and I look up at him. He's beaming. At me... at them... Oh!

My eyes fly open, "I want to go back! Please! I want to go back now!"

"We love you, Claire."

"I love you too, so much, but I want to go back... I don't belong here... not yet... please... "

"Okay. Don't be afraid. It will only hurt for a minute... but you'll see."

"Okay. I'll be brave. I'll miss you."

"We'll be there. Never forget that. Now, close your eyes one last time."

I nod and reach my hands out. They smile at me and each take one, like so many times before. "I love you," I whisper, as I close my eyes.

The pain is instant. It cuts me. It slices through me...

I see myself... lifeless.

I see him... he's... broken.

His voice...

"Please... Oh God, please... Come back to me, sweetheart... Come back to me... Please come back, Claire... Don't leave me... "

His cries...

His tears...

His pain...

He thinks I'm gone.

He thinks I've left him.

He doesn't know.

He didn't see what I saw.

He didn't see what Grandfather showed me.

No, he didn't see, but I saw.

And it was beautiful.

Our life.

It was real, I know it was.

Our future.

More beautiful than any dream.


I can't stay here anymore.

I can't watch him suffer.

I can't watch it another second.

I see where to go.

I see the path.

That will take away his pain.

That will lead me back to him.

I run...

I run as fast as my legs will carry me...

I don't look back...

I run and run and I won't stop until I get to him.

I know I'm getting closer because I start to feel the cold.

The weight pushes down on me, but I keep going.

The path gets darker with every step, but I'm not afraid.

I can't see anything now, but I won't give up, because I know he's waiting for me.

He's waiting for me in that place where I belong.

He once told me to fight...

I was too weak that day, but I won't let him down again.

I'm tired and I'm cold, and the weight and the darkness are pulling me down and making me stumble, but I refuse to be weak. I pick myself up. I fight. I will be strong enough today.

For him.

Because he's broken and only I can fix him.

And for me.

Because I saw...

And I'm selfish...

I'm selfish and spoiled...

And I want it.

I want it all.

I want everything.

And he's waiting to give it to me.

I'm almost there.

I can't see, but I can hear...

I can hear him calling to me.

Leading me back to him.

I reach out and I know I've made it.

I can feel him.

Touch him.

I can hear him. Right here. Right next to me.

His cries don't stop, but they're different now.

Pain and agony replaced by joy.

I came back to him.

He's holding on so tight that it hurts.

But I don't care.

Because I saw.

And I can feel.

And he's so warm.