She knew the way well; they’d walked it many times in the past.But she held tight to his hand and let him lead.Only when they reached the stream did she let go, moving to the water’s edge, squatting.She felt Cutter’s presence beside her.Something about his solidity and his warmth was so genuine, so strong, so like Eugene’s that everything she’d tried so hard to keep inside for so very long filled up and overflowed.Tucking her face tight against her knees, she began to cry.
Cutter murmured something, but the sound was lost, just beyond the realm of her misery.Then he put his arms around her and, jacket and all, drew her close to give her the comfort she’d been wanting and needing.He didn’t speak, didn’t tell her that she shouldn’t cry.He hugged her more tightly when the sobs came faster, stroked her hair when they eased, pressed her face to his chest when low, mournful moans came in their stead.
In time, her hands relaxed their grip on his shirt.She sniffled but didn’t pull away.With her cheek flush to hischest, she whispered, “I miss him, Cutter.I miss him so much.”
He scooped a swirl of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.“I know.I do, too.”
She’d guessed that, which was probably why she had needed so badly to see him.“In Boston, there’s just this awful emptiness when I think of him.”She took a hiccuping breath.“I thought it would be better here, but when we were driving up today, I kept remembering all the times I knew he’d be waiting for me.Then we drove through the center of town, and everywhere I looked he was there.Only he wasn’t.The house was just the same, but so different, and I thought I’d die if I didn’t find you.I ran through town like I was crazy.That’s what people must have thought.”
“Nah.They’d never think that.They love you.”
“They loved Daddy.”
“They miss him, too.”
Her thoughts flew back to the day of the funeral, when so many of those people had come out to say goodbye.Remembering their faces, remembering the huge coffin and the way it had disappeared into the ground, she started crying again.“I’m sorry,” she whispered between sobs.
“Don’t be.”He sounded as distressed as she felt.“You need this.So do I.It helps me with all I’m feeling myself.”
“You hurt, too?”
“I loved your daddy,” he said, and there was a sudden fierceness in his voice.“He did more for me than any other person on this earth ever did.I loved him like I’d’aloved my own daddy if he’d been worth a dime—” His voice broke.
Pam held tighter to him until she felt she was in control, but even then she didn’t pull back.Cutter’s heartbeat was the most reassuring thing she’d heard in four months.
After a time, he asked about Patricia, and she told him.She also told him about John and how he was in charge of everything, and about Hillary and how good she’d been, and about school and her friends and Marcy.When she asked, Cutter told her about things on the mountain and how they’d tightened under John’s command.He told her about her old friends, who was doing what and how.
By that time they were facing each other in the dark, no longer touching but closer than ever.“What are we going to do, Cutter?”she whispered.
“We’ll go on.That’s what he’d have wanted.We’ll go on and do the best we can.”
“But it’s so hard sometimes.Sometimes I just want to yell and scream, I get so angry.It isn’t fair, all that’s happened.It isn’t fair that Daddy died, or that my mother’s in a hospital, or that I’m stuck with John.Life shouldn’t be like that.”
“But it is, and it’s the strong ones who survive.You’re a strong one, Pam.You’ll do fine.”
“But it hurts so.”
“I know.”He pulled her close for a final minute, before standing and drawing her up.“I’d better give you a ride home.”
“We’re here for the weekend.Can I see you again?”
“You bet.”
They’d gone about halfway back to the cabin when she said, “Daddy loved you, too.He really did.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“He did.He wanted to leave you something in his will.Did you know?”
After a pause, Cutter said, “He mentioned it once.Little Lincoln.”
“I don’t know what happened.”She remembered the argument her father and John had about it.“I heard him tell John and he was so definite.He wouldn’t change his mind.Not about that.I think he wished you were his son, not John—and John knows it.”She looked up at him.Lit by the moon, his face was all hard, bold angles that should have looked harsh to her, but didn’t, couldn’t.Cutter was special.“He would be mad as anything if he knew I ran out here first thing.”
“Well, you’re not gonna tell him,” Cutter vowed, looking defiant, “and I sure ain’t, so unless he’s got spies up here, he won’t know.Right?”
For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Pam smiled.
She did more smiling that weekend.She saw all of her friends, and while there was always an awareness that someone was missing, being with them was healing.
