Dorthy

Six

Love. A many splintered thing.

The love Dorothy had for her parents had been broken in the accident that killed them. The love the mother and father had for their child was smashed by the oncoming car that had forced them off the road and into the lake. That of an aunt and uncle was well meaning and genuine, but was a pale shadow of what a girl might need to help her walk through life on the right side of self-esteem and confidence.

Love was a whisper of a song on the wind. It could fill you with meaning and light your soul with its flame, yet be snatched away by an errant breeze that extinguished its warmth in a heartbeat.

The axe was keen. Its edge was finer than a human hair and could, indeed, slice one in two, twice over. It had been sharpened and polished and sharpened again, the blade being given the attention a loved one might afford. It was caressed late at night. Greeted with a smile in the early morning light as dawn's sun reflected brightly off its surface.

And it could, with a single swipe, take a life.

It would not need much effort in bringing the blade down down, as if the axe itself was helping the swing, eager to touch the intended target. A lover's kiss, deep and passionate and leaving the other breathless.

In this case, however, the lack of breath was due to the equal lack of life.

Love. Something Edward Simmons could never truly know. To feel the emotion – to feel anything – you needed a heart. Edward was lacking that particular organ. In truth, Edward was lacking many organs, but he was doing his utmost to remedy that situation.

The man was called Stephen Decker. A wife and two children told him they loved him on a daily basis. It wasn't a reflex response to a member of the same family. It wasn't something you just said because it was expected, though you meant it, though it was sort of automatic. No. They told him they loved him, a comment he readily reciprocated, because they did. Because they liked to say the words and to hear them. Stephen Decker said the so-called 'three little words' because they rolled off his tongue and, in the process, filled each of them with a feeling that would energise them for the whole day.

He was returning home. He had worked for long hours in the fields surrounding his farm house and was ready for his dinner and his bath. Stephen had never wanted to be a farmer. He wanted to explore and to learn and to be a man of substance. His father dying younger than he should have and more in debt than he needed to be had forced Stephen to take over the family farm to pay off the moneys owed that fell to him as the firstborn. Onlyborn, in fact.

His dreams died with his father. The day after the funeral, his mother walked out of the front door and was never seen again. She had yet to shed a single tear for the loss of her husband, though she loved him dearly and was a devoted wife. Regardless of the grown son she was turning her back on, Edina Decker felt she had lost everything and her life was over.

So she stepped over the threshold of her home, and let her feet lead her to a brand new life.

They did, indeed, though she walked for four weeks to find it. She was weak and starving and dehydrated when she was found hiding in a coal house from the rain. The woman, a widow herself, took Edina in. She could see a kindred spirit that was a shade darker than it should have been. A strong friendship developed between the ladies. When questioned about her past, Edina never mentioned her son. She remained oblivious of the grandchildren that would have blessed her life. She, in a way, forgot she'd even had a previous family. The woman, Katherine, became her family. A sister in all but blood.

Life was good. Life was new.

For Stephen, her lost son, life was also over. No longer would he seek out new lands. No more could he gain an understanding of things outside his experience. His father's farm became his prison. He worked it as hard as he could, and dedicated his time to its maintenance as the dutiful offspring he was. He married his wife and had a son of his own, followed soon by a daughter. Within the walls of his house, Stephen was happy. Blissfully so. Beyond, he felt as if he were stepping into a pit. One that was determined to drag him down and swallow him whole.