“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you.”
18
Ember
I am failing my husband.
I know I am, and I don’t know what to do about it. I try to cook the best meals I can, although Christopher has to stand by my side and watch as I do since the chain gives us no space. He offers to chop or stir, but I feel as if it’s my wifely duty to do it all.
I try to clean our schoolhouse floors and dust all the Nevada desert away, but again, Christopher is right there and feels he needs to help too, or is convincing me I’m being silly trying to clean a prison cell.
I try to make him happy. But he isn’t. And each day that passes, I see the dark circles under his eyes intensify and the hollow of his cheeks seem to sink deeper and deeper each hour of our time together.
The man is fading away.
Hallelujah Junction is killing him.
“It’s snowing outside,” I say as I look out the window. Christopher is simply staring off into space, and I’m desperate to snap him out of the funk he’s in.
“Great,” he mumbles.
“Papa Rich closed the town to tourists. Which means he may let us out of the schoolhouse soon. We can explore the outside.”
Papa Rich had left the two of us alone in the schoolhouse for the most part. He occasionally would enter the room, look around, and then leave as quickly as he came. He didn’t seem to taunt Christopher like he did before. If anything, he seemed to be giving us our space so we could get to know each other better.
Christopher leans against his arms on the mattress and stares out the window. “So, now we’re really trapped. No people coming. No chance of hope.”
Winter also means less visits by Scarecrow which gives me another reason to love this season, so I won’t let Christopher bring me down.
“I have something to show you,” I say, wondering why I haven’t thought of it sooner. It would have helped with Christopher’s sour disposition. How could it not?
I move to get off the bed, and Christopher groans as he joins me. I make my way to a storage closet and pull out an old record player that was left behind from a previous ranger before Papa took over the town. Next to the record player are my prized possessions. Records that fill my heart with love and joy, and in my darkest times can always make me smile.
“Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy,” I say as I set up the player and put a John Denver record on it.
Christopher watches what I’m doing with curiosity. It’s the first time today he shows any emotion at all, and though it’s not a smile, I’ll take it. I’m at least shaking the numbness out of him.
I put the needle on the record where I know my favorite song will start.
I begin humming along and then sing out, “If I had a day that I could give you, I’d give to you a day just like today.” I begin swaying back and forth with my eyes closed and just listen. Just feel.
And then I feel Christopher’s arms around me. He takes my hands in his and begins to slowly dance with me to the music. I had always dreamed of a day I would dance with a man in a grand ballroom somewhere, but this… this right here, dancing with Christopher, is far better than anything I could dream of.
He kisses the side of my head as he pulls me against his chest. Step by step we dance. His heart beats next to mine. His breath blends with mine. And for the first time since our wedding night, I feel close. I feel Christopher. I haven’t lost him to the shadows. Not yet.
“You said you would lend me your happiness,” he says against my hair. “I feel I need that right now. I feel myself slipping into a deep, dark hole.”
“I’d give you anything,” I say, my heart breaking for how sad he is.
“I’m not like you,” he says. “I can’t shake off the cold chill in my bones like you. I can’t see the silver lining. I just see four walls closing in on me.”
“I’ve had practice,” I admit. “I know how to fight the demons.”
“Well, you’re going to have to teach me how.”
We keep dancing through song after song on the record player as the snow blankets the ground outside. Our wood-burning stove keeps us warm, but it could be a blizzard inside, and I’d still be warm in Christopher’s arms.
I put my hand on his face and giggle. “You have a beard now.”
He chuckles. “If my mother could see me now, she’d die of a stroke.” His smile quickly fades, and sorrow takes over again.