Chapter 30

Astrid

T he smoldering rubble is clouded with smoke by the time I reach the church. Sev jumps out of the Hummer behind me, and we gaze upon the burning destruction in horror. Some distant screams die down as more walls fall inward onto the heap of ruin.

Sev holds his hands to the sides of his head and wails, glancing around. My heart has been desolated by the sight before me.

"I'm not leaving him! I'm not!" Falling to my knees, I wait on the other side of the parking lot for any movement. Maybe he made it. Perhaps he had a plan of some sort and he'll emerge from the building like a superhero.

But by midday, I'm lying on my side, whimpering and in so much pain, I cannot move. "I'm not leaving."

"Please." Sev sniffs as he stands over me. "Please, Mrs. Strauss. Please let me take you home. They-they said they can't find survivors."

The fire fighters dig through some of the carnage before us and my lungs burn from the incessant smog. I don't move. "No."

"I'm picking you up now, Mrs. Strauss. I-I'm going to put my hands on you."

My heart remains under the pile of ashes left by what he did. My husband. My hero.

"Is she okay? Asa! Come over here!" A soft, feminine voice carries to me as the Donovans shuffle over. "Astrid? Do… Can I get you anything?"

All I do is sigh. I hear the words that people speak, but it means nothing to me any longer. If I had the strength, I think I'd walk right into the flames that still linger.

"Move! The girl needs help."

"I said I would grab her, Mr. Freidenberg."

The bear ignores Sev and lifts me into his arms, carrying me to the Hummer. "Livia!"

His wife shuffles closer to me. "I'll go with her. Ari, come with us."

"I'm coming, too." Mr. Donovan has been eyeing me strangely as I lay silent in Mr. Freidenberg's arms.

Setting me upright like a doll, my body leans against Arianna's as Livia gets in beside me. Mr. Donovan rides in the front seat and turns to stare at me. He's the only one who is really looking . Everyone else seems to be worried about me. But I'm not really here anymore.

"You look like your brother." Tears flood to his eyes, and the look on his face says he knows . He understands exactly what I'm going through. When he speaks again, his voice is strained. "He was, uh, a good man."

Arianna's arm tightens around me as she places her lips to my forehead and Sev drives us to House Strauss. Even though I know nothing of these people, I just slump. My will for anything has been left behind with my love.

I know my legs operate because I walk inside the front door. But it's like a movie happening to someone else. Pain sears in my soul so deeply, I don't think I'll ever recover.

If Bert didn't exist, then I wouldn't want to, either.

Somehow, I'm situated in a guest bed in a room I've never been in. The women bring me food and drinks that I reject. The men stand around and pace, murmuring softly to each other.

Calum Von Dovish and his wife appear at the door, bringing with them a calm presence. "Well…my sources say Clavius and Herodius are no more. From this city, anyway."

"We need to establish a vote soon. For the people," his wife says, nodding to everyone in the room.

Mr. Von Dovish approaches me with normalcy, not like the others. "What your husband did saved us all. He's the true savior of Gnarled Pine Hollow."

Everyone in the room nods and mumbles their respects while I wallow in agony. Not even able to speak.

The hairy man in the back of the room clears his throat. Mr. Freidenberg says, "Whatever you need, we'll take care of you."

Mr. Donovan still eyes me carefully, like he's seeing a ghost. "You belong to us now. All of us."

People move around me, and events happen. Noises are made. Sometimes light is turned on. But I'm not here . Not really.

One of the women comes to sit at my bedside every day. Livia brings her son, and I rub my belly while lying in a semi-coma. She plays with him, feeds him, burps him, and talks a lot about how to care for a baby. While I listen with some interest, I revel in her prattling distraction from my thoughts.

On Arianna's days, she organizes my closets in my new room. I can't return to the one my love and I were in. She plays with my hair, even washing and braiding it while I sit and stare at my gaunt cheeks in the mirror. Like a drill sergeant, she orders the minimal staff I have left around and makes me pancakes that I can barely eat. There's some comfort in the steaminess of it as it hits my face, though.

When Asa Donovan sits in the wingback chair next to my bed, his leg bounces constantly. Like he can't sit still. He usually stares at me when he thinks I'm not looking, but then he paces. It's as if he understands what needs to be done for me, but can't bring himself to do it.

Let's face it. I'm a dog that needs to be put out of my misery.

"Tell me about my brother," I ask one evening, when Asa's looking even more miserable than I feel.

Running his hands through his hair, he pauses in his steps and spins to gaze at me with wide blue eyes. "Uh… Um. Sure. Okay." He sits down again and clears his throat while rubbing his palms over his jeans repeatedly. "Well, Astrid." He says my name like a foreign word. "I loved him."

A gasp parts my lips as I sit up in bed, the comforter falling, exposing Vincente's white T-shirt I haven't taken off for days.

He continues with a rough swallow, voice clogged with emotion. "And he loved me."

"He loved us both," Arianna says as she returns from the kitchen with a tray filled with fruit and pancakes. I reach for the tall glass of orange juice. "And he loved his motorcycle, too." A glimmer of a smile crinkles the corner of her eyes.

"He taught me to ride, in fact." Asa seems to loosen up and leans over to snag a pancake from my tray. "And these were his favorite." He holds up the treat before stuffing it in his mouth.

That day, I get lost in their stories. Their laughter. And their tears. Before they leave, both beg me to come home with them and see where he's buried.

But it's too soon. I can't go. I can't leave my husband, and his spirit is here in this house with me.

My favorite days are when Veracity stays with me. Instead of pity, or encouragement, or activity, she just sits still. The first few days, she didn't even speak, only sat in the corner in the striped chair, pulled out a ball of yarn and knitted. That's it. She just sat there even while I sobbed. Occasionally, she'd hand me a new box of tissues and gather the old ones. It's as if I was enough, just in the state I was in. I didn't have to become something else.

I was allowed to be sad near her.

At the end of her shift, Cal shows up and hovers near the door, his eyes scanning me as if checking to see if I've grown a new limb. Then, the two bid me goodbye and show up in two days with solemn smiles.

Until the third week. Things change.

Max Freidenberg runs in like a Grizzly and throws his hands on his hips. "That's it. You're coming outside. Then eating some bacon. Let's go. Up and at 'em."

"It's cold!" I protest, gripping the sheet as he tries to rip it from me.

"It'll do you good. And spring is almost here. Come on, missy. Ass out of bed."

I think it will be weird. I know him the least, other than through Livia's constant complaints about tiny things that annoy her about him. But she needs the extra sleep. So with their son, Adal, strapped to his chest, Max leads us into the woods once I'm dressed appropriately.

"I heard you like to hike out here. Which is great, but I wanted to show you some areas to be wary of. And where you're going to get the best vantage point for enemies."

My brow scrunches with confusion. "I don't have any enemies. Not anymore."

He stops mid-step and tucks his son's cap down farther over his ears. "Oh. Yeah, well." Starting up again, he tosses his voice over his shoulder. "In case you ever do."

Like a commander, but more like a protective big brother, he encourages me step after step until I've made my usual walk. By the time we make it back to the house, I'm ready for the bacon he talked about for the last half mile.

That was a day I held on to as one of the first I could not feel the hole of despair for an entire hour.

But then the night came.

And I fell in again.

I named the pain. Sometimes it was sharp, searing, and so acute my fingers would clutch at my chest to try to dig it out of my heart. That actually was better than the pit.

Black and without escape, the plague that rotted over my living corpse suppressed any ability to see light. I couldn't even feel Bert's presence at those times. And the only distraction was hearing the chime of the grandfather clock, knowing I was one more hour closer to my eventual death. Even crying wouldn't get me out of that abyss of agony.

No, the only reason I ever woke up was because of Vincente's child inside of me.

"Come on, Bert. We have to do this. You want peanut butter this morning? Good. Because that's all I can really eat right now." Conversations with Liberty were the only thing that kept me alive.

"We're going to make it." Looking at my reflection, haggard and wan, I decide then and there to survive. Because that is what the love of my life wanted for me. For us. "We have to press on."

I put my collar back on and decide it and my wedding band will never come off again. I'll always be Vincente's. Even if he's no longer with me.