Page 75 of Steel & Jenna
He stumbled. Chief Cunningham caught him with a hand around his upper arm. Jack nodded automatically to the man, too numb to register the gratitude emotionally. He managed to get himself to the door of the shed without falling. His legs didn’t feel solid. Was it possible he’d left his legs behind?
At a sound that could only be described as a heartbroken, keening wail, Jack paused and looked over his shoulder.
Mr. Zarin had pulled Jack’s jacket down to reveal his wife’s face. He was kneeling by her pristine hair, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his gut like he was trying to hold pieces of himself together as he cried out his anguish.
A zombie stumbledinto the house through the back door. Jack didn’t even remember walking through the snow to get to the house. He just…found himself inside the kitchen.Herkitchen. How was it that there was no food on the stovetop or in the oven and yet he could smell the spices of her pot roast and the aromas of freshly baked pies?
Her recipe books so neatly organized on the counter, not by author or by type but by her own personal preference. Her apron on a hook on the wall and the smaller apron Mr. Zarin had recently hung there for Lilly.
Jack looked down at his hands. They felt soaked, but there was nothing on them. Why weren’t his hands drenched in her blood? Had he not tried hard enough?
His fault. All his fault.
He should have never come here. He brought such evil into this house of goodness. Evil that was insidehimtoo.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Blood should have been flowing from his hands, stained with the sins of his father. He couldn’t understand why his hands weren’t red.
“Jack?”
Her voice was a balm to his soul, a healing salve. Jack closed his eyes against it. He didn’t deserve to be healed. He needed to feel this, hedeservedto feel this.
“Jack?”
Hands took his, still raised from his examination. Jack ripped his hands back. He was dirty, tainted. Even if there was no blood on his hands, the blood was still there.
Jack lost his balance and fell backwards into the wall by the back door. His elbow clipped something ceramic on the counter and it rattled. Her chicken cookie jar. She’d painted the eyesore in a college art class and Jack had nearly broken it!
His legs gave out. Sliding down the wall, he covered his head with his arms. He’d almost broken her cookie jar! He couldn’t be trusted. He tried. He tried so hard but everything he touched broke. He wasn’t worthy of this house, this kitchen, those cookies…
Arms encircled him.
Jack wanted to push them away, but they were so warm. It never even occurred to him that she shouldn’t be there. It made no sense that she was. He was torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer.
“Shh…” he heard gently in his ear. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m so sorry. Just let it out… I’m here…”
There was no sound, at least to his own ears. His throat was raw and his ears were ringing. Still, his mouth opened and he silently roared out his pain as she rocked him back and forth on the kitchen floor of the only home he’d ever truly known…and would never know again…
CHAPTER 17
Things moved in short clips. One minute, he was on the floor in Jenna’s arms and the next Jack was sitting at the kitchen table with an officer telling what he knew. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he understood that Lilly was in the living room telling a different officer her story. Jenna was with her. Possibly. He wasn’t really sure. Jack should be the one to go to her, but he couldn’t really move. He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten to the table.
Then he blinked, and the officer was gone. Voices drew his attention to the backdoor, and he watched as the pale ghost of Mr. Zarin walked in with Chief Cunningham at his heels. The Chief had his hat on now. Neither one was carrying Jack’s jacket, but that was fine. He didn’t really want it back.
Lilly came running into the kitchen from the living room. She threw herself at Mr. Zarin. The man caught her, picking her up as if she weighed nothing, and drew her to his chest. Jack saw Lilly’s tears, but his ears still weren’t working quite right. Or maybe her sobs were muffled by Mr. Zarin’s jacket.
Mr. Zarin was rubbing a hand up and down Lilly’s back as if he was trying to lend her comfort.
That wasn’t right, though. He shouldn’t be comforting her. Ormaybe it was a good thing he was. Jack wasn’t really sure. The cyclone in his brain kept jumbling up his thoughts.
Jack blinked again, and he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. How had he gotten here? His legs felt too numb to have brought him.
His eyes danced over the room that had once been Mr. and Mrs. Zarin’s shared office. His new bed was in the center of the room, up against the right wall. He’d never had such a comfy bed in his life. Who would sleep in it now? Would the desk that was now piled with his books and homework return to being where Mr. Zarin organized household bills? Jack had really liked having a dresser and a closet. Even more so, he liked having enough clothes to fill them. He supposed he should have known better than to get used to the nice things in life.
