Page 50 of Frost Like Night
I’d forgotten how recently Alysson died, how fresh her absence still is. So many deaths crowd my heart, all overlapping each other with grief. But as I watch Mather now, he pivots to lean his back on the doorframe, the hall’s light illuminating his face. He always looked more like Sir, but Ican see Alysson’s softness in the curve of his nose, the way he purses his lips.
“I never understood it,” Mather starts. “That love, I mean. It was always so far removed from what we had. I saw families when we went out on missions, but I never—” His breath catches. “I didn’t realize until too late how much I wanted it.”
When Mather looks past me to the nursery again, there’s no mistaking the tears in his eyes. He holds them back, jaw tight, arms digging mercilessly into his chest.
“What do you think it’s like?” he whispers. “To love someone like that? Even thehopeof someone? To keep a room locked away on the wish that someday they’ll come? I can’t fathom it.”
“Alysson knew you loved her,” I breathe, unable to make my voice any louder.
His smile is sad. “I know.”
The memory of Oana’s words, how being a conduit as we are makes us barren, shoots remorse through me that I didn’t even know I’d had. I never thought about this—having children, a nursery—but Mather and I were forced to live a life without parents as much as Oana and Rares were forced to live a life without a child. Not that I can understand their pain, but I imagine it aches in a similar way. This is yet another area we’re forced into without a choice.
If Mather could talk to his mother the way I used to talk to mine, he wouldn’t hesitate. If Rares and Oana couldtalk to their child like Hannah could to me, they’d fight to reach me.
It’s those two realizations that remind me just how fractured my relationship with Hannah was. Because I should want to talk to her, and she should be desperate to talk to me. But I haven’t felt anything from her since I shut her out, no battering against my defenses when I weaken, no constant attempts to slip past the magic.
“I think I understand that love,” I say. “At least, I’m beginning to. Family isn’t always who you’re born to. It’s who you’re with, who you love. Those families can be even stronger.”
Mather exhales a laugh. “Like a chosen family?”
There it is again.Choice.The word that haunts my every action. “Yes.”
“I’d still have chosen Alysson,” Mather whispers.
I close my eyes, his words cocooned inside more emotion and morewantthan I’ve ever heard from him. My chest itches, already responding to my unconscious will, and as I open my eyes, I turn to face the room.
Dust lifts off the furniture. Cobwebs peel off the walls. The window pops open and all the grime and dirt undulates out on my command, leaving every surface gleaming like new. The quilt stretched over the chair remains ragged, but the filth is easy to remove, and the pillows and blankets in the bassinet sit fluffed and clean and ready to be used.
Because theywillbe used. Oana and Rares will someday soon be able to have the family they deserve. The familyMather should have had; the familyIshould have had.
That’s all I can do. Help create a world where the life I always wanted exists, even if I don’t live it.
A place deep inside me aches every time I think like that, so close to fully accepting my fate.
“Meira?”
I scrub away any tears with my sleeve before I turn to him. All I want is to do what Rares suggested—give him a choice. Let him know what awaits me at the end of this journey, the reason for my tears.
But the moment my lips part, Phil appears. “Rares said we’re leaving?”
I breathe, sending oxygen out to every muscle. “Yes.” I’m caught by another piece of information I haven’t shared with them, one that makes my own body sway with memory.
“And our route will be a little . . . unconventional.”
Mather rises away from the door, intrigued. “How so?”
But I wave off any explanation. “Packing first.” I wince. “Pain later.”
That night, Oana loads us down with supplies—satchels, blankets, food, bandages, as well as a plethora of things we probably won’t even need. As we all stand in the front yard of their compound, I grab her arms to prevent her from stuffing another apple in my bag.
Rares puts his hand on her waist, watching me. Dozens of words crowd in my mouth.
I’ll see you again.
You two mean more to me than I know how to say.
The bassinet in that nursery will be used. I promise.
