Life On the Fjords

"Where Do We Go?"

Pippa's mother was inconsolable.

Her cries could torture angels as she practically fainted when they told her what had happened to her only daughter. No husband, no parents, now no child. Jack would never be able to erase the image of her on her back, wailing so hard that her throat gave out. Her soul was gone; she'd lost all touch with reality as people crowded around her to try and help her back up.

Losing a parent was something all daughters and sons anticipated in adult years... But losing a child, it was unnatural. Parents were never supposed to bury their children, no matter how young or old.

Pippa was only ten... She had such a beautiful outlook of the world. Even every adult that came across her was felled to her effortless charm. Never selfish, never unkind... Too innocent, too pure for the world they lived in. So she was taken to a better one.

Jack was ashamed of his relief, no matter how short-lived it had been. All he could register was that Mary and Jamie were safe at home, warm by the fire, that they hadn't met the fate of whatever poor child fell beneath the ice. But for it to be Pippa... his heart hurt more for his siblings and her mother than anything. She'd drowned immediately—it was the only comfort he could give himself.

How'd he know? The kids with her all saw it. They said her head only went under once, and that was it. No struggling. Caleb and Claude had been bold and tried to reach out and grab her, but Monty knew better and held them back. They would have all gone down otherwise. The near-sighted boy had been the one to get help.

The men that pulled her out spent twenty minutes trying to resuscitate her to no avail.

As Jack watched the scene, all he could think was how it could have been him pressing his mouth desperately to his kid sister's or brother's, pushing feverishly on their chests to make them wake up again.

She's not really gone. Jack fooled himself at first. She'll open her eyes. She'll be scared and hacking up water, but she'll be alive. I'll take her home; it'll calm her down.

But there was nothing. Even as she slept, her face looked angelic. Peaceful like she wasn't even scared to let heaven take her. Her bright red hair burned so effulgently even in the dim, late-autumn sun.

...

Mary's face was buried in Jack's chest, his shirt was soaked with her tears. They sat in front of the fire—Jack had felt a chill all over his body he couldn't shake since seeing Pippa. He buried his nose in Mary's hair, rubbed her back in a feeble attempt to console her. But their friend was dead. How did anyone lessen that blow for a child? Mary, Jamie, and Pippa had all grown up together. It was like losing a sister... Even Jack couldn't wrap his head around it. Someone he'd spent the last six years of his life knowing, practically for all of his teenage years... and Pippa had not even gotten to experience hers.

Jamie was a blank slate. Numb. Empty. He stared at the fire with an expression Jack could only describe as confused. None of them understood, so Jack didn't blame him.

It was still a bit perturbing; Jack had expected tears, anger, something. But no. Jamie was quiet. He didn't even want a hug from him or Mary.

"Jamie?" The boy looked over at Jack, who was still rocking Mary. But he was struck dumb. What did he say? "Are you okay?" What a fucking stupid question, yet it was the best he could do.

"Fine." He murmured. His eyes were dull; Jack didn't even see the reflection of the flames in them. Mary dried her tears on the sleeve of her coat. She was calming down for now, but given another hour or two, she'd be in bits and pieces again.