I give him a nod, and he cracks the door.
Whatever he sees on the other side must not give him pause, because he throws it open wide, and three bodies fall into the open space.
My heart stops. I would recognize that golden hair anywhere.
My body freezes along with my heart, but the room bursts into motion around me.
A redhead rushes to Harold’s side, her hands hovering over his body, doing lord knows what.
Alex helps Cate lift another golden-haired woman onto the empty cot.
This must be Andra. She and Cate have the same coloring, though Andra is thin and frail, lifeless except for the rise and fall of her chest. Cate tucks a blanket around her, smooths back her hair, whispers something in her ear. Dark circles line her eyes and exhaustion curves her shoulders; it must have taken them the whole night to make it here, but it doesn’t surprise me that Cate managed to find a way to save her sister.
I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s here, her presence stinging more than soothing. I had resigned myself to never seeing her again, and yet, now that she’s here in front of me, I don’t have anything to say. Conflicting emotions wage a war within me and I’m unable to settle on a single one. I don’t know what it means, that she came here of all places. I do know that a small part of my heart stitches itself back together knowing at least she’s alive.
Cate rises from her position next to Andra only to sink to her knees again, this time next to Harold. Her own war of emotions flits across her face, but she finally gives in, taking his hand in hers. And it becomes clear why she came here. Not for me, but for him.
It shouldn’t hurt. There shouldn’t be any part left of me to hurt.
Her eyes meet mine and they are layered with so much pain and grief that I long to take away from her, to share that burden even if I am unable to ease it. “You didn’t kill him.”
My chest aches as I watch the two of them together. Despite everything, I had many years with my own father. Cate thought she had lost hers long ago, but really he was right there with her, protecting her and caring for her, the whole time. How will she react when she finds out the truth?
I pray I won’t have to be the one to tell her. I don’t think I could.
“I told you he was alive.” The words come out harsher than I intend, as if to remind both of us of the division still separating us.
She nods, a million emotions in the small gesture. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, she turns her focus back to Harold.
Minutes pass, bleeding into hours and still the redhead, Bianca I presume, fusses over Harold. I don’t know how her Gift works, and watching her isn’t making things any clearer. The whole room looks on with bated breath, searching for some sign of change in his condition.
He comes to with a start, a violent cough racking his lungs.
Bianca calls for water and Alex darts into the kitchen, returning with a glass of it seconds later. She holds it to Harold’s lips and he sips, barely taking in more than a few drops at a time.
Harold’s eyes flit around the room, searching for something, or someone. They linger on mine for a second before they land on Cate. He sits up, moving quite well considering the state he was just in, and wraps her in his arms.
Cate resists at first but finally acquiesces, her arms finding their way around Harold’s frail body.
“We have much to talk about.” His voice is so weak I can barely make out the words.
“We’ll leave you alone.” I gesture for Alex to head into the other room with me to give them all some privacy.
“No,” Cate says. “Whatever it is he needs to tell me, you need to hear too.”
I don’t know if it’s supposed to be a peace offering or a sign of trust. I almost refuse, heading into the small bedroom if for no other reason than to not have to see her face.
“Please, Callum. I need you to hear.” She turns to Harold. “If that’s okay with you.”
He nods, adjusting his position, gratefully accepting the pillow Bianca offers to put behind his back.
I stay rooted in my spot, unable to deny her anything, even still.
Harold opens his mouth to speak, hesitating as if he isn’t sure where to begin, but once his tale starts to unravel, it doesn’t stop. He speaks for maybe an hour, spinning the story of his childhood friend, the woman who became his wife. The woman who became the mother of his children.
Cate pieces it all together before he says the words. “It was you all along.”
