Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
VIRGIL
A fter Roscoe and Ginger leave, Clara goes through the motions. Then disappears down the hallway during dinner. The kids and I play games, and I field endless questions about school.
What classes they might take. Who they’ll meet. What supplies they need to shop for.
Clara slips back out somewhere during the conversation, going to stand by the window and rubbing her nose with her sleeve. That’s when I hear it, the faint sniffling.
She doesn’t talk. Just smiles thinly and nods her head. Somehow she looks more exhausted than I’ve seen her in a long time. Like everything’s weighing down on her all over again, all at once.
It scares me. Makes me wonder if inviting Roscoe and Ginger over pushed her too far.
My stomach sinks. We have to talk. Alone.
I make a show of checking my watch. “Whoa. Way past your bed times, you two. Gotta start getting to bed earlier if you’re going to be in school. It starts in the morning. Time to brush your teeth.”
They laugh and tease each other, still talking a million miles per hour about school and the supply shopping they’ll do as they chase each other down the hallway.
I fix my gaze on Clara, her face broken though she isn’t crying anymore. That’s somehow worse. Because it’s a look I’ve seen before. The look people get right before they say goodbye to something.
“Bryson never wanted this,” she says finally, softly. “We were supposed to homeschool. This wasn’t the plan.”
Neither was his death.
I shake my head, gut knotting. He wouldn’t want any of this. Guilt pricks. Me sitting in his kitchen, caring for his kids, looking at his wife with something that feels like more than neighborly concern. He wouldn’t want any of this.
Then, she disappears out onto the porch, the screen door squeaking in protest on its tired hinges.
I follow, leaning against the railing and looking out at the gloaming. “But under the circumstances…” I begin
She wheels around to look at me, eyes flashing with anger. “Under the circumstances that I can’t stand…”
“Clara, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Even if it’s just temporary.”
“Temporary,” she huffs.
“Like this life? The cabin? Everything that Bry and I planned for together? All temporary?”
I cross the distance to her. My hand comes up, gripping her shoulder, testing. I’m so close to reaching out, pulling her into my arms, it scares me.
“Clara—”
“No,” she says, voice ragged as she pulls away. “These circumstances are not what I wanted. This— all of this —is not what I wanted.”
All of this?
My chest tightens.
Maybe she means the school. Maybe she means the future. Doesn't stop it from feeling like she's talking about me.
I wince, anger rising against the sting. “You’re leaving anyway. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Silence.
The porch goes so quiet I can’t think… or breathe.
“Just haven’t figured it out?”
“Well, you can’t stay,” I balk. “This is no place for a single mother with two small children.”
“So, that’s it then?” she asks, fat tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Clara—” I don’t know what else to say. Gut punched. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Of course it is.” She sniffles, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she says finally, staring up at the stars.
I don’t speak, don’t move. Just lean back into the railing, gripping it like my only protection from the kind of mistake I can’t walk away from.
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. Literally everything and then be told to risk even more.”
I freeze, brow furrowing. “Risk even more? What do you mean?”
She clears her throat, still not looking at me. “They’re all I have left, Virgil. What if I lose them, too?”
She breaks then, fighting to breathe through a sob.
I’m there without another thought, pulling her hard against my chest, sliding my hands to her shoulders, fingers tangling without meaning to in her dark curls.
“You’re not going to lose them,” I whisper.
The words sound weak even to me.
“But—” she breathes hard against my chest, trying to suppress it, then breaking into a sob that racks her whole body. “But I wasn’t going to lose him either… until h-h-he was gone.”
I hold her close, my heart beating wildly beneath her cheek.
My chin settles on top of her head.
That's all. The only thing I can give her. Something solid to hold onto.
“I wasn’t supposed to lose him,” she gasps, shaking in my arms. “And now I can’t get him back. And I have to think about things… things that gut me… like trying to move on. Trying to make a future without him.”
She’s screaming now, voice carrying across the front yard to the treeline. “He wasn’t supposed to leave me like this. I hate him for it.” She fists her hands, hitting my chest. Each blow weaker than the last until she’s melting into me. “I hate him for it. I’ll never forgive him.”
"You will," I say gently. I have to believe that. For both our sakes.
The screen squeaks, and Helen and Luke stand there, eyes round with fear.
“What’s wrong with Mama?” Helen asks, chin trembling.
Clara shifts in my arms, but I don’t let go.
“We’re all just missing your daddy,” I say.
Their faces flood with instant comprehension, and they both rush forward, piling in for one big hug.
And that’s how we stay.
On the porch.
Hanging on together to a future none of us chose.