In the background I can hear the wailing of Ethan.
“It’s so hard,” She sobs. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Swallowing, I fight back my own emotions at seeing my beautiful girl so fractured. There is no sunshine in her eyes, no light left, nothing more she can give.
“I can’t keep this up, Kolten.” She sniffs, swatting at the tears on her cheeks, much like the other day on the docks. It’s like she’s angry at herself for being upset.
“School is killing me. Work is killing me. Childcare issoexpensive and the no sleep. I feel like I am dying.”
She blows out a harsh breath.
“I feel like such a failure. And I’m so angry at myself because I chose this, I decided to keep with school and work and being a mom, but it’s so much and I can barely get through the day without crying.”
My thumb swipes across the screen as if I could wipe the tears from her cheeks but I can’t turn back time and be there. I can’t help her.
“I’ve decided to quit.” She whispers, “I’m giving up, accepting defeat. I’ll be back on the Island by next week. My bungalow is still empty, and it has two rooms, so I’ll be taking us back there. It’s time Ethan has his own bedroom now anyway; he’s been in with me for the past couple years and I need the help.”
Guilt rips through me. She gave it all up for our son, her career, her independence, her life, to take care of him, to raise him without me.
I force myself to watch the rest of the video even if it continues to rip at what little I have left of my heart.
“He’s getting stronger though,” She adds, “The doctors have diagnosed him with Asthma though. They have said it’s difficult since he’s so young. He is being treated and seems to be doing better and we will keep assessing as he grows.”
He’s still crying in the background, but it appears that’s been going on some time now. Her hair has since almost fallen from the braid she has it in and exhaustion weighs on her, “Please don’t judge me for the crying. I can’t get him to stop. He doesn’t have a fever, his cough has cleared, he’s changed and fed, and clean but I can’t get him to stop. He won’t stop and gah–” she groans, “I don’t know how to keep doing this alone, so I am choosing not to. I’m going to end this here now.”
She leans forward and plucks up the camera from wherever she had stashed it to record, “I miss you Kolt. And I don’t know how I can miss something or someone I never had. I know you would have been a great dad and maybe it would be different if you were here.”
“Ness,” Her name is a broken whisper from my lips.
“I’m going to stop these for a couple weeks until I can settle back in on the island. Ravenpeak Bay is home, Ethan will love it there and Imogen is so excited for us to be back. I don’t know if you know already, Torin found love again. Her name is Maya, and she has a daughter. Their wedding is coming up and while I know you and your brothers are dangerous, I am so happy he’s found light again. He cares for her. I only saw it for a couple days but man, I wish for the kind of love they share.”
I flick through the folders and paperwork, reading the notes on Ethan’s medical record. He’s had serious bouts of infections, colds and flus and admissions which had ultimately led to the early diagnosis of Asthma. He hadn’t been admitted to the hospital for six months since that diagnosis and his prescription has been collected, without fail, on time.
It’s late now, way past midnight. The house is quiet, dark, my brothers and their girls have all gone to bed. Snow falls outside the window, but I cannot stop thinking about Vanessa and Ethan.
Are they warm enough? Are they sleeping?
Before I can think any better of it, I’m heading downstairs and shoving my boots on.
Torin has plenty of firewood, so I don’t mind piling some into a wheelbarrow to take over to her. I’ll chop her some more when I’m least likely to wake the whole town and catch a charge but really, I just want to know she’s okay.
I need to know that her house is dark, and she is sleeping like the rest of this town.
With the snow falling and the dark sky smothered in thick clouds, I walk through the thick white blanket on the ground, shoving the pile of logs as I walk. It’s not easy and despite the freezing temperatures, I break out in a sweat.
But I make it across town and my heart drops into my stomach when I see her kitchen light is on and shining out across the front yard.
It’s not a mistake either, she’s stood at the window, her back to me, oblivious that I am right here.
I’m here for her.
I may be late, but I am here now.
And I’ll continue to be here.
The gate creaks and groans when I open it to get to the path that leads up to her front door, and the sound is loud enough that I see her spin in the window, looking out to find the source of the noise.
I stop halfway up the path, letting her see me and her mouth drops open before she’s moving, and I hear the door unlocking.
