1. Morning News & Dark Truths #2
Next, they visited the ducks who squawked indignantly at the disturbance, ruffling feathers in dramatic outrage.
Seth refilled their water bowl and spread the food while Watch wandered among them, curious and sniffing, but staying respectful – honoring the rule that chickens and ducks remain strictly forbidden.
"Good boy," Seth whispered. "Smart dog. Staying alive is a group effort around here."
The gust of cold air swept through the yard, carrying the smell of pine trees and ashes from the night fire.
Seth straightened up, hands buried deep in his pockets of the jacket, and surveyed the homestead – smoke rising from the chimney, snow sticking to the branches of trees, everything quiet.
Watch nudged his leg – warm and solid, small support.
"C'mon," Seth murmured to the dog. "Let's get those eggs inside before Addy thinks we ran off with the breakfast."
Watch barked once and followed him to the cabin, leaving new tracks in the fresh snow.
Inside, Addy stood in front of the stove in one of Sawyer's hoodies, the sleeves pushed up over the elbows. The morning light was seeping in through the frosted window and each time she sighed, her breath was forming a faint cloud in response to the cold that still refused to surrender to the fire.
Her hand drifted – almost unconsciously – to the slightly rounded curve of her stomach, now visible.
Seth entered the cabin, stomping the snow off the boots and Watch trotted behind him like a faithful shadow. He shook the chill from his jacket.
"Good morning," he said, lifting the basket with eggs.
Addy turned, her lips forming a warm smile. "Up early."
"Chickens don't feed themselves," he said, giving her a crooked grin and placing the basket on the table.
Addy pulled the cloth cover from the basket, her breath catching.
"Oh my god—duck eggs?"
Seth nodded. "Four. Betty and Matilda are in top shape this week."
Addy cradled one of the eggs in her hands, examining it with reverence. "These… these are perfect."
Seth smirked. "Thought you'd be excited."
"Excited? Seth, these are gold." She held one up to the light and examined it carefully. "Before all this, I hated eggs – like, not even going to touch them, gag at the smell hated. But now? Now they're practically currency."
Seth leaned against the table with folded arms. "Proud of the girls. They're earning their keep."
Addy laughed. "Oh, they definitely are."
Then, as she slowly rotated the egg in her hands, she had a sudden idea, just as Seth did.
They said it in unison:
"Pasta."
They stopped, looked at each other in shock… and started laughing.
"Duck-egg pasta," Addy said with a shake of head, as the laughter died. "Cara and I made some when we first got here – a bit of lumpy disaster in the beginning, but honestly delicious once cooked."
"Sounds like mess," Seth said with a grin.
Addy gave him playful scowl. "Excuse you, it was actually bonding experience."
"A messy bonding experience."
"Nothing but messy is the best," she giggled.
Seth pointed to the basket. "Well, looks like round two is calling."
Addy smiled at the eggs – golden, shining, full of quiet promise.
Maybe today would turn out well. Maybe today would be okay.
After the laugh about duck-egg pasta, after the hot cups of coffee warmed their hands, after the conversation died down and turned into a peaceful silence – Seth pushed his chair back from the table and cleared his throat.
"I think I'm going to… take a trip to the springs," he said, his voice somewhat too tight to be casual. "To take a bath."
Cara nodded in agreement. "I checked them yesterday. It's warm enough to fall asleep in them."
Jay looked at Seth and gave him a quick, understanding look – the look only another grieving person could give. "Take your time," he said quietly. "We'll hold down the fort."
Seth managed to force a small smile and took his towel, clean clothes, and one of Jay's old paperbacks – though he probably would not open it.
Watch followed him to the door, wagging his tail in hopes.
"Not today, buddy," Seth murmured, gently pushing the dog aside. "I need some time alone."
Watch whined, but complied, lying in a comfortable spot by the fire.
Seth stepped outside into the cold morning.
The air in front of him shimmered, a pale ghost of his breath floating upward, and the crunch of the snow under his boots grew louder with each step as he climbed up the familiar path to the springs, where wisps of steam drifted through the air between the rocks ahead of him.
He needed this.
He needed peace.
He needed space.
His chest had been tight all morning long, stretched and strained to near breaking point, until he recognized it as another of the warnings he'd known so well. This had been harder than most years, harder to endure while winter bore down on him in its heavy, oppressive grayness.
It was worse today.
Molly and AJ were everywhere he went today.
He stepped inside the mouth of the cave and leaned a hand against the cold wall as memories threatened to sweep over him, too many and unrelenting.
AJ stumbling towards him with arms held wide, walking with an unsteady gait and babbles of baby talk, but with "Dada" coming through loud and clear.
Molly laughing as she tried to get AJ to clap, her curly hair bobbing as she pranced barefoot around the kitchen.
Molly kissing him in such a way that she would deliberately miss his mouth, pressing one to his jaw instead and watching as he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, her eyes bright with amusement because she was winning.
Oh, how he missed that.
Missed the warmth of her.
Missed the sound of her soft voice saying "You're my person, Seth" against his shoulder in the dark—and how her words haunted him now, every single day.
Missed being completely hers, without question—and despised the fact that some defiant piece of him wouldn't allow her to go no matter how hard he tried to give her up.
He stripped off his clothes slowly, folding them with military precision just from habit. The part of him that yearned to rip them apart instead rebelled against the senseless discipline that had failed at keeping anything truly important to him.
The heat from the steam enveloped him as he submerged in the water, soothing his strained muscles although he pushed against it with resistance, like he didn't deserve any peace for being so imperfect.
He sank into the warm water until he rested with his shoulders touching the cool rock of the walls.
He let the warmth still his mind.
But the ache didn't go away.
Closing his eyes, he spoke into the empty chamber of the springs.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the empty cavern. "I should've protected you better." Then, gritting his teeth as if confessing a terrible crime, the admission he'd never voiced aloud. "And I'm angry you left me here alone."
A tear slid silently down his cheek and dripped off into the spring.
Crying made him feel weak.
He never cried.
But there, in the silent peace of the springs where no one would see him and demand more than he could give—tears fell. Silently. Privately. Fiercely angry.
None of them needed to see how damaged he still was or resent their demands for him to keep standing strong while he crumbled silently.
He spent some time in the water, allowing the steam to soothe him, allowing his grief to flow through him instead of overwhelming him—even as a stubborn bit of his soul battled the entire time.
He finally rose and dressed once more, his breath calm.
He wasn't fixed. He knew enough not to believe that.
But he could stand up again, despite himself.
That would have to be enough for now.