Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
VIRGIL
L uke.
For one long second, I just stand there staring. Then relief hits so hard my knees nearly buckle. “Luke!”
His head jerks upright. The flashlight catches wide blue eyes.
“Vir-gull?”
The sleepy little voice cracks something open in my chest.
“Yeah, buddy.”
He blinks against the light.
“You found me.”
I bark out a laugh that sounds dangerously close to a sob.
“Damn right I found you.”
"And that old bear didn't." A watery chuckle escapes him. "Good hiding spot."
His lower lip trembles, and that’s when the tough facade fades. No longer brave or tough, just small and tired.
“Can I come down now?”
“Yeah.” My throat feels too tight. “You can come down now. Carefully.”
But he doesn't move. Instead, he squints at me. “There's still bears.”
I look around the dark forest. Nothing but pines. Wind. Moonlight.
“No bears.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He considers that. Then nods solemnly. “Okay.” he surveys the ground below, wide-eyed. “May need a little help, though.”
Great. Heights. Not my thing.
The climb up is harder than it should be. My shoulders ache. My knees protest every inch. When I finally reach him, he’s still curled against the trunk like a little squirrel nestling in for winter.
Pine needles cling to his costume. His cape is tangled in branches. His cheeks are streaked with dirt and dried tears.
But he's alive. God. He's alive.
I settle onto the branch beside him. For a second, neither of us says anything. Then he leans against me, trusting, automatic. Like he knew somebody would come.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
My chest tightens. “What for?”
“I made everybody worry.”
The honesty in it nearly kills me. I wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Your mama's pretty worried.”
His face crumples. “I know.”
"Is Helen okay?"
"She's okay."
His shoulders sag immediately.
The wind stirs the branches above us. The entire mountain feels quiet, as if it’s listening.
“Why'd you climb up here?”
Luke shrugs. “Papa said to.”
I close my eyes, just for a second.
Climbing a tree to avoid a bear? Terrible advice. But the staying part saved him. “Yeah?”
He nods. “If there's bears, hide and stay put.” His small hands grip the bark beside him.
I swallow hard. “Smart advice.”
“I wanted to come down.” His voice drops. “So many times.” Another shrug. “But Papa said stay.”
I stare out across the dark forest, across the mountains, across all the miles Bryson never got to walk.
The kid keeps talking. “He said if I got scared, I should stay anyway.”
My eyes burn. “Sounds like your daddy.”
Luke nods immediately. “He wasn't scared of nothing.”
I don't have the heart to correct him. Everybody's scared of something. Even heroes. Especially heroes.
“You know what?” I ask.
“What?”
“Your daddy would be proud of you tonight.” The words leave me before I can stop them.
Luke's eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really.”
His grin appears instantly, small and sleepy. Then he yawns. A huge yawn. The kind only children can manage.
I laugh. “Think it's time we get you home.”
He nods. Then lifts both arms expectantly. As if there's no question in the world what comes next.
I stare at him. At the little boy. At the son my friend left behind.
Then I gather him into my arms. He settles against my chest immediately. Half asleep before we even start down.
“Hang on tight, buddy.”
By the time my boots hit the ground, he's fully out. One small hand still tangled in my shirt.
The radio clipped to my belt crackles. “Virgil?”
It’s Roscoe.
I grab it quickly. “Found him.”
Silence.
Then the blond mountain man’s voice crackles through, “You serious?”
I look down at the sleeping boy in my arms. The Batman cape dragging through brush. The steady rise and fall of his chest.
“Yeah.” My voice roughens. “Got him. Alive and untouched.”
Another pause.
Then Roscoe exhales, long and hard. Like the whole mountain just got lighter. “We'll tell Clara.”
“Thank you.”
I can already hear cheering in the background. A wail that goes up, fragile and keening. Like a world is falling apart and rebuilding itself in one sound.
I adjust Luke higher against my shoulder, already heading downhill.
“Virgil?”
I look toward the lights glowing far below. Toward home and a mother who's spent the last several hours living every parent's worst nightmare. “We’re headed back your way.”
“You need anything?”
“Got it covered.”
“Roger that.”
The radio goes quiet, and the night closes in. I navigate the forest floor tentatively, carrying Bryson's boy home.
“Don’t know how you did it,” I say to the mountains, the stars, the sky. Whatever’s listening. “But you were there when he needed you, Bryson.”
The trees begin thinning around me. Lights glow ahead. Flashlights. Lanterns. People. A whole damn army waiting at the edge of the clearing.
The moment someone spots us, a shout goes up. “There!”
Every conversation dies. Every head turns.
I barely make it three more steps before Clara sees him. For one long second, she freezes. Then she runs.
“Luke!” The name breaks apart coming out of her mouth.
I stop moving. She reaches us breathless, hands shaking as they cup his dirty cheeks. “Luke.”
His eyes flutter open. “Mama?”
The relief that tears across her face is enough to bring a man to his knees. “Oh, baby.”
She gathers him against her chest so fiercely I'm half afraid she'll crush him.
Luke doesn't seem to mind. His arms immediately wrap around her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“No.” Clara shakes her head hard enough to send tears flying. “No, no, no. Don't you ever apologize.”
“I stayed put.”
The words come out sleepy… and matter-of-fact. Like he's reporting on homework.
Clara's breath catches. “I know.”
“Papa told me to.”
A sound escapes her. Not quite a sob or a laugh. Something broken and healing all at once. She buries her face in his hair. “Oh, Bry.”
The words barely exist, more breath and grief and love.
Luke yawns again, completely oblivious to the fact half the mountain has spent the night looking for him.
Then another figure crashes into them.
Helen.
She throws herself around both of them so hard they nearly topple over. “Idiot,” she sobs.
Luke blinks. “You found me.”
That only makes Helen cry harder. “I wasn't supposed to leave you.”
The words pour out. Weeks of grief. Hours of guilt. All at once.
“I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed. I should've?—”
“No.” Clara reaches for her instantly. Pulling both children close. “You did exactly what I told you to do.”
“But—”
“You saved your brother.”
Helen's face crumples. Then all three of them are crying and holding on to each other beneath the cold October stars.
I stand there at the edge of it all, trying to convince myself that's where I belong.
Roscoe appears beside me. The blond mountain man lets out a long breath. “Hell of a night.”
“Yep.”
Neither of us says anything else. We don't need to. Because some things deserve silence.
Across the clearing, Clara finally looks up. Our eyes meet over Luke's tangled Batman cape. Over Helen's red hood. Over everything we've survived to get here.
No words pass between us. None are needed. Because for the first time since the flood, she doesn’t look broken.
Exhausted. Grief-stricken. Overwhelmed, yes. But not broken. In a night filled with miracles, that’s the one that wrecks me.