Whispered Prayers of a Girl

“Can I see?” I ask, then hold my breath. She’s shown Alexander her drawing, now I hope she’ll show me. I won’t force the issue if she refuses, but it’ll hurt. As advised by her therapists, unless it’s for her well-being, I rarely push Kelsey into doing things, preferring to have her come to me on her own instead. I want her to want to show me, not make her. I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t want to share stuff with me. I think it’s more like she cares so little about anything she does that maybe she feels like no one else will.

I want to cry tears of joy when she hands it over. I pray she doesn’t notice my hand shaking as I reach out and grab it. Forcing my eyes away from her, I look down at the drawing pad. My breath catches at what I see. It’s a whole bunch of differently designed sad faces. They’re simple in design, but hold so much meaning.

Looking closer, I notice something else. Hidden amongst the sad faces are a few smiley faces. Overall, there have to be about thirty sad faces and only five smiley faces. I don’t know if I should cry or smile at the picture. On one hand, it’s obvious the dominant emotion Kelsey feels is sadness. On the other hand, knowing she feels glimpses of happiness lightens my heart and gives me hope. Kelsey never appears happy, or at least she never shows it, but it’s apparent there are times she does. I just wonder what happens during those times. What brings on those bursts of pleasure? I want to replicate them over and over and over again, so all she feels is that emotion.

I hand her back the pad and scoot closer to her. She never pulls away from me when I show her affection, and she doesn’t now when I wrap my arm around her shoulders and bring her in for a hug. Her arms go around me, then tighten. I squeeze my eyes shut at the contact because it’s not common for her to put effort into hugs. I don’t know what’s happened recently, but there’ve been several changes in her, ones I pray will continue and grow.

I pull back from her, but rest my forehead against hers. It’s amazing how she can watch me with emotionless eyes when my own emotions are running rampant.

“I love you,” I tell her softly.

Every time I say those words, I hope I get a reply back, but I never do, and today is no different. One day I will though. I refuse to believe anything other than that.

Later that afternoon, I step out onto the porch while the kids eat lunch. Alexander’s been out here for hours, only coming in for about thirty minutes after he and Daniel were done with the horses before leaving again.

Everything is white and covered in snow. It’s a beautiful sight. Surprisingly, the temperature isn’t blistering cold like you’d think it would be with all the snow. It’s deceptive, making one think it’s colder than what it actually is.

I’m surprised to find Alexander sitting out on the porch with his feet crossed at the ankle and propped up on the railing. He looks relaxed as he writes something in a notebook. He looks up and watches me with an unreadable expression as I approach the vacant chair closest to the door.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask in case he wants to be left alone.

He flips the notebook over and lays it on his lap, then grunts in reply. I take that an acceptance and sit.

I gaze out across the yard, mesmerized by the beauty of the place. With the snow covering everything, it looks like a snowy wonderland. It must be so peaceful living in a place like this. Cat’s Valley isn’t a large town with the hustle and bustle of cars, noise, and the awful smell of pollution, but there’s still a big difference between there and here. That’s another reason why Will and I wanted to buy land. We wanted the solitude of living away from everything as we raised our kids.

My gaze skitters across the property and lands on the partially built structure, which I assume will be a house once it’s finished. All I can see are the bare walls, but it looks like it’s been there for a while.

“What are you going to do with your cabin once you finish the house?” I ask, bringing my eyes to him.

His looks over at the house for a brief second before looking back out at the yard.

“Nothing,” he says, a strange note in his voice. “I’m tearing it down.”

My eyes widen in disbelief. “But why? Why would you partially build a house only to tear it down again? I bet it would look beautiful once you finish it.”

He’s quiet for so long that I think he’s not going to answer. I’m about ready to forget my question, once again overstepping boundaries, when he surprises me.

“It was supposed to be for my wife and child.”

His voice is so quiet, I barely make out the words. But I do, and the anguished way he utters them says a lot more than his actual words do. There’s obviously more to the story, and it’s apparent it’s a painful one. I want to ask him about it, but it’s not my place. I don’t need to worry, because he tells me on his own.

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“They died four years ago.” He clears his throat when his voice cracks. “A drunk guy pulled out in front of us right before the bridge over Hallow’s Creek. I swerved to miss hitting him head-on and ended up rolling down the embankment and landing on the passenger side under the bridge.”

My stomach bottoms out and it literally feels like my heart is hurting at the tormented tone in his voice. To lose a spouse is gut-wrenching and one of the most painful experiences a person can have. Losing a child is ten times worse. To lose both would be beyond excruciating, unbearable. I can’t imagine ever getting over something like that.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. The sentiment is so lax for what he went through, but it’s the only comfort I can give. There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

He looks at me, his eyes holding a mountain of pain. “Thank you.”

“That’s why you want to tear it down. Because it reminds you of them?”

“Yes,” he answers. “That and there’s no need for it anymore. It’s only me, and I don’t need a house that size for just me.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone else to share it with,” I suggest, then want to take back the words. It’s clear he’s still grieving for his deceased wife and child. To even suggest him finding someone new, even though it’s completely reasonably, is insensitive.

His jaw tics, and I worry I’ve pissed him off. I tense and wait for him to tell me to go to hell, but it never comes. He turns his head my way, looks right at me, then says with conviction, “That’ll never happen.”