Wars at Home

Chapter 18

My eyes were open long before I was aware of my surroundings. It was as if my mind couldn't keep up with my body. But suddenly I was awake, lying on my side in bed and staring at Thomas in the chair beside me.

His head was down and his hand covered his eyes, so I couldn't tell if he was awake or not. The darkness was only interrupted by the glowing lantern on the nightstand, giving me no indication of the time other than that it was still night.

I longed to reach out and touch my son to ensure that he was really here and not a dream, but the fear of what he would tell me kept me still. I wanted to prolong my ignorance for as long as possible, so I could pretend that I'd only imagined what I'd instinctively known at seeing him.

Time lost all meaning to me in my little bubble of willful ignorance, so I wasn't sure how long I lay there watching Thomas. I was extraordinarily grateful that he was in front of me, but terrified beyond words at what he had to say.

I couldn't imagine the world that I now found myself plunged into. The world where someone I loved didn't exist any longer. It was too painful to comprehend.

After a while, Thomas must have felt my eyes on him because he dropped his hand and stared at me, sorrow thick in his gaze.

He blurred from my vision as my eyes filled with tears, and I quickly brushed them away, not wanting to lose sight of him yet.

I tried for several minutes to speak past the tightness in my throat, unable to imagine the truth away any longer.

Taking a deep breath, I was able to force out the one word that mattered.

"Who?" I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow that would crush me.

When a moment went by and he hadn't answered me, I looked at him again.

"Who, Thomas?" I asked more insistently, sitting up and wondering why he was torturing me by dragging this out.

After a few seconds of watching his tormented and uncertain expression, I realized he wasn't trying to drag it out. He was trying to decide who to tell me about first.

I brought my hands to my mouth and shook my head in disbelief and shock, willing him with my eyes to tell me it wasn't true. I couldn't lose them both.

"Ma, they..." He faltered, struggling with his own emotions and not bothering to wipe the tears from his face.

Even with my hands covering my mouth, I couldn't stifle the anguished cry that escaped my lips.

Thomas rushed to my side just in time for me to collapse in his arms as sobs wracked my body.

"No!" I cried, slumped against him. "The letter!" I'd received it just last week! Andrew had been alive to write it! He mentioned that Samuel was just fine!

"Ma, you know letters can take up to a month to reach the States," Thomas soothed.

"No..." I moaned. I'd always dreaded what might have happened after each letter I received. But I'd been so sure that they were alright.

From the beginning, I knew this was a possibility. That was why I'd been so terrified and spent so many sleepless nights worrying. Still, it was coming as a shock. The war was over! There wasn't supposed to be any more danger!

How could Samuel be gone? How could his life be over before it really even started? He should never have been there. He was only seventeen! This wasn't supposed to happen! Mothers were not supposed to outlive their children! How would I go on knowing I'd never see my baby again? That he'd never grow into the man he always wanted so desperately to be? That I'd never see his smile again? Or the light in his eyes?

And Andrew! The thought was incapacitating. He couldn't be gone! He was my whole world. How would I survive without him? He was so gentle and so loving. Never worrying about himself, only the people he loved. Even when he left, he hadn't shown any fear or shed any tears for himself. They'd all been for me. Me and the children.

How could he be gone?

I wanted to scream at someone. To blame them and hurt them somehow. To make them suffer like I was suffering. But I felt like I was drowning. All the air had been sucked from my lungs, and I couldn't pull in enough to form words. All I could do was try to breathe past the all-consuming pain.

And there was no one to blame. There was only Thomas. I clung to him with all my might, thinking about how frighteningly different whatever had given him that limp could have been.

What would I do if I lost him as well?

He was crying too, and I knew he was saying something, but I couldn't understand him. Words didn't have meaning to me any longer. All I knew was the pain of losing a husband and a child all at once. It was too much to bear and nothing made sense anymore.

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I went somewhere in my mind and I couldn't get back to reality. Mostly I didn't want to get back.

Trapped in my head, I could be with Andrew and Samuel as much as I wanted. I was remembering things I hadn't thought about in years. I watched my memories as if they were happening all over again.

I saw Samuel, the day he was born. Samuel at six years old, dressed up in Andrews clothes and pretending to go to work. Samuel learning to walk, going to school for the first time, learning to ride a horse, coming home covered in dirt and deliriously happy after his team won their baseball game. Coming home with a black eye after fighting with his friend when they both liked the same girl. Fighting with Thomas and then turning whatever they'd been fighting about into a joke. The memories went on and on. Sixteen and a half too-short years of memories that were all I had left.

In between all my memories of Samuel, I saw plenty of Andrew. The two of us playing together as children, growing closer later on, and realizing that I'd fallen in love with him. I remembered the day he told me he loved me. It had been a long time before I could say it back. I remembered the day he said he still loved me even though I no longer deserved it. I remembered how he grew to love Thomas and accept him as his own son. The day we were married and the day I told him he would be a father. The first time he held Samuel, James, and Victoria. The hero worship that the boys all held for him and the special bond he had with Victoria. All the head-butting with Samuel as he got older and all the stories with Victoria. The way he always knew what I was thinking and how he always knew exactly what I needed, whether it was time alone, prodding to do something I didn't want to do, or just silently holding me.

It was a constant stream of memories all mixed up and all too alluring to leave behind.

I knew time was passing around me. I didn't care to think about much, but I noticed the daylight changing to night and back again several times.

I was aware of Julia with me much of the time. Of Thomas and the other children, speaking to me. Sometimes John and others who's identity I wasn't very concerned with knowing. But it was all just a blur. I couldn't shake the haze that had taken over my mind.

I didn't want to shake it. Things were easier this way.

I was barely aware of being fed from time to time. I didn't taste anything. I just swallowed when something was in my mouth, not caring to think beyond that.

Thinking was too painful.