Gazing out the window,and seeing the first hint of light on the eastern sky, was something I was falling in love with. I followed the lines of the newly whitewashed fence that surrounded the garden Pope and Viv had been working so hard to create. I smiled, knowing that even thought it was Vivian who wanted the rose bushes for the wedding, Pope had taken the time to do this for Viv, his momma, because it was something she had always wanted growing up. His little addition, done out of respect and care for his mother, made me feel more connected to him than I already did. He loved his mother, and I loved seeing that side of him. He was a momma’s boy, but in the best way possible. Kind, giving, loving, and so protective.
Softer.
Normal.
And when Viv was Viv, and Vivian was locked away in the depths of her mind—even temporarily—I loved the sweet, kind-hearted woman as well. I did. God help me, I did. I wasn’t going to think about Vivian’s letter I had read last night until next week came. The only way I would survive my sick prison was by taking each day one hour at a time. One minute at a time. And right now, this minute, I was content.
Looking out onto the land where Pope worked so hard to build a home filled me with such gratification. I cherished everything about this place, the silence, the peace and the sense of... home. Yes, it was a dark abyss at times. But when it was just Pope and me sitting out on his deck, or Viv and me chatting about nothing in particular, I was able to trick myself into believing I wasn’t a captive, forced to submit to a man by his crazy mother. The normal was so very pleasant, even though the madness was pure agony.
I hummed to myself as I rolled out several piecrusts—a couple for now and the rest to freeze for later. Vivian had lectured me over and over that a dutiful wife plans ahead and is always efficient. With damp and gentle hands, I placed them in the pie tins, excited to surprise my new fucked up family with my culinary skills. Carefully trimming around the edges with a knife, I nearly sliced my finger when something odd caught the corner of myeye.
Pope’s workshop had black smoke billowing out from it. My heart plummeted as I tried to figure out what to donext.
“Fire!” My scream was nearly suffocated with terror. “Pope, wake up! Your shop is onfire!”
I ran to the bedroom to find that he wasn’t there, and I could see he wasn’t on the deck either.
There was no sign of Pope anywhere. He must have gotten up shortly after I had. Or dear God… what if he was in the fire? “Viv! Viv!” What if she was too? “Viv!” My voice quaked in panic.
Where were they? Where werethey!
Quicker than I thought possible for my legs to move, I ran out of the house toward the burning building.
The door to the workshop was closed. I couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. No screams for help. Nothing. “Pope! Are you in there?”
I yanked open the door of the workshop with all my strength. The smoke and the fumes hit me with a force that obstructed my vision and made my eyes tear. I coughed and wheezed as I tried to make my way inside. I could see the flames engulfing the furniture that Pope had worked so hard on crafting, the wood, and very soon the entire room. Smoke clouded my eyesand made it close to impossible to breathe, and I wasn’t even all the way inside. Should I go in? Common sense screamed no, but the thought of Pope burning alive inside compelled me to charge against any better judgment.
