Correction—what used to be his room. My throat starts to burn as tears try to fill my eyes, but I swallow the burn and tears back down.
It is so quiet here now.
The oxygen machine used to fill this room with a rhythmic noise that let me know he is okay. The beeping of monitors reminded me he is still here. Now, the silence is somehow louder than the concentrator and monitors ever were.
The bed is empty, not just of him but of sheets and pillows. It’s a bare, plastic-covered hospital mattress just sitting there, reminding me of his absence. I close my eyes and try to imagine he is still there, but the sound of nothingmakes it impossible. Ringing in my ears grows to a deafening level.
Mr. Donovan is a busy man and always put our community first, but he is tender with me. In a way, Mrs. Donovan never tried to be. He tried his best to make me feel welcomed and wanted here. At least I think he did.
Samuel has been his normal self these last few days. How? Our father just passed away. The only person I have ever been able to call my father, at least. We were that close, but I am so grateful to him for saving me, allowing me to join this family and community.
Samuel is his blood, his biological son. How could he just return to meetings and talk to us at dinner like life hadn’t just been tilted on its side? He just keeps talking nonstop about all the changes he is going to be able to make in Everton, how he is going to raise us to the greatest potential.
I couldn’t understand it—didn’t want to, either.
My heart is broken from the loss.
“He is with the Divine now, miss,” Abigail says as she comes to take a spot next to me in the doorway. “He is no longer suffering.”
“I know.”
My voice is but a whisper as I keep my eyes on the empty bed. It is taunting me.
I know he is no longer suffering, and that makes a part of my heart ache less, but there is a selfish part of me, a big part, that wanted him here regardless of his suffering.
When I close my eyes, the tears I am fighting back leak over my lash line and flow down my cheeks.
“Is it time?”
“Yes, miss,” she says softly as I walk away.
I take each step with more speed, trying to get out of this house as fast as I possibly can. I need fresh air to replace the burning invading my throat. My lungs are straining to get any air in them as I try not to let the sobs take me over.
“Whoa there!” Samuel and I almost collide into each other trying to walk through the threshold. “Come here.”
He envelops me in a hug, but we are still inside, and I don’t want to be. I need to get out of this house. I need fresh air.
I push against his chest harder, and he stumbles back as I gain the distance I desperately need.
“Stop.” I hold my hands up like he would try to hold me again. “Just stop.”
He eyes me suspiciously.
“We need to go. So, let’s go,” I say, looking at my hands.
He is just trying to be nice and caring, but I need to get out of this house.
I don’t know how to talk to him about this all when he seems unfazed, and I’m—shattered. When he steps toward me, I just turn on my heels and walk to the car.
Joshua is there, waiting, and he opens the door for me with a polite dip of his chin.
I slide all the way over into the far end of the car’s back seat, leaving enough room for Samuel to slide in next to me.He doesn’t wait a beat after I am in the car. Joshua closes the car door quietly.
“Where is Mother?” I ask. “What is happening?”
I don’t need to look at him to know his eyes are deadpanned and not looking at me.
“We are going to our father’s funeral. Is she meeting us there?”
