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“My mom had a ceramic platter she used every Christmas with poinsettia flowers painted on it. She used to put it in the oven. That means it should have survived the fire. I have to find it, Julian. I wanted to use that same platter for my Christmas dinners.”
I try to step forward.
Julian tries to tug me back, but I resist. I try to lunge, but he grabs me, locking his arms around me.
My feet sink to the ground, but before I can hit it, I land in Julian’s lap, like a shield protecting me from the debris.
Chapter 43
Julian
I’ve seen a lot, including death, suffering, and pure evil. I saw things during my time in the army that I wish I could unsee, nightmares that keep me up some nights. My point is that I’ve lived and witnessed a wide range of scenes.
None as heart-wrenching as this.
I knew it would be bad, devastating. I just miscalculated how bad it was.
Poppy crumples in my arms, then she stirs and tries to fight, crawling, if I’d let her, to reach the pile of ash.
She’s right; there is nothing left. This wasn’t a simple house fire. Andrew made sure it would all burn.
The devil always does.
I hug her tight, blinking, trying to capture the tears of fury that well in my eyes. I fail; some escape.
I shouldn’t have brought her here, but she wants honesty. I’m just worried so much truth will forever take her from me. She was managing to wake up each day after everything Andrew did; that was amazing. She’s the strongest woman I know. But this... well, seeing all her memories taken from her might be too much.
Where is the cliff edge in her mind? Has she fallen over it yet?
“Where is?” she exhales, and the sound of it makes me stressed. It’s not right. Her lungs are not working right. I look around, hoping an ambulance is nearby. Only police and fire marshal cars are along the road now.
“Where is… where’s the stuff that should survive a fire? It can’t all be burnt. Julian,” she wiggles,“Let me go. I need to find something.”
I hold her tighter. Although she’s wiggling, it’s more like a fish that’s been stranded on land for too long. There is no real fight in her.“It’s not safe, Pumpkin. Not yet.”
I look at the house, trying to think of how I can replace it for her. There have to be photos of it online. I’ll rebuild it and try to make it as close to the real thing as possible.
I’ll fix this.
Movement to my left catches my eye, and that’s when I see him for the first time. Henry, her brother.
His eyes don’t look at me; they're locked on Poppy. Then he starts to cry. Well, not crying per se, silent tears fall from his eyes, dripping down his face and landing in the ashen soil.
Henry looks like Poppy in some ways. He has the same hair color—auburn, brown with honey highlights—and freckles on his cheeks like my Poppy. That’s where I draw the line because where Poppy is my light, I see a darkness in Henry’s eyes that reminds me of Theo.
Dark deeds cast long shadows that escape through the eyes.
He swallows, steps forward, and slowly, like a monument being reverently approached, he lowers himself down to his knees and reaches for Poppy’s hands.
I grip her tighter; she’s still looking ahead, asking me where items are, but when Henry touches her hand, she stops talking.
Chapter 44
Poppy
A cold hand touches me.
Julian’s hands are always warm.
