The Miles Between - Page 51

I step out and head toward the crooked oak, one of its branches split away by a long-ago lightning storm. A low iron fence comes into view, its curly grillwork an odd contrast to the barren landscape. The gate swings back and forth in the wind, the squeaking hinges swirling with the music already in my head. The others follow close behind.

I stop at the gate. Seth stops on one side of me, Mira and Aidan on the other. Within the small fenced area, the grass still holds a hint of green, like the warmth of the occupants keeps winter at bay. I look at the chiseled stones, the granite as new and cold now as it was ten years ago. Ten years ago today. Father’s stone first, then Mother’s, and finally Gavin’s. Baby Gavin’s. Forever their baby.

“This is where my family is now.”

No one speaks. I am not sure they even breathe. Just like those on the other side of the gate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Still no answer.

“I couldn’t,” I add.

Seth takes a step forward, squeezing past me, through the gate, stepping into the world of Mother, Father, and Gavin. Mira and Aidan follow him. I stand behind the gate, a boundary I have never crossed, looking through the spaces of their backs, arms, and elbows, looking at my past etched in stone and letters and dates. Permanent dates that don’t change. Real. It hasn’t changed. I couldn’t change anything. This day couldn’t change anything either.

“You weren’t abandoned,” Seth whispers. “You were left behind.”

Exactly. And all the denying, counting, and retracing of steps can’t undo it. It can only add up to what it is—as Seth said, left behind. Pain twists in my chest like a knife. I whisper Seth’s words. “Left behind.” The knife twists deeper. It feels good. Necessary. Deserved.

“Oh, my God,” Mira whispers. “Today is the day they died. All of them.”

“October 19.” Aidan’s voice is uneven.

“On your birthday,” Seth says. I see the back of his head gently shaking.

Mira gasps. “And your mother’s too. She died on her birthday.”

“You were only seven?”

The wind plucks at the branches of the oak. The gate squeaks. The bagpipes play. Music that played so long ago and has waited for me in these hollows, hills, and stones. Music that, for a seven-year-old, was frightening and loud, and yet now as I listen, it is as soft and hesitant as a tear trickling down a cheek. I turn my head to the side, trying to catch every note. I wonder what trick of time and perspective has made the music change.

Seth reaches forward as if to touch Father’s stone, but then pulls back. He shakes his head more vigorously. “What are the chances?”

“A million to one, at least,” I answer. “But it’s bound to happen to someone. That’s the Law of Truly Large Numbers, right?”

Aidan turns to face me. “Destiny. . . .” I have never quite seen anyone’s face look the way his does right now, chiseled and frozen, like it might break if he moves one more centimeter. Mira and Seth turn to face me too, all of them on one side of a boundary and me on the other, just like that day.

“I watched them get on the plane. They were late because of me, you know? I refused to say good-bye. I made a terrible fuss—”

“Des, you were only seven—”

“They finally had to leave without a good-bye from me. That’s all Mother wanted. After they left, I ran to the window. I was going to wave. I really was. I was looking for Mother and Father in the passenger windows. But just as the plane started pulling out, an incoming plane lost an engine and veered into them. I saw it all. The flash. The explosion. Everything. All the chances stacked up in the worst possible way.”

Seth steps closer to me. “You could have told us, Destiny.”

I laugh. “How? This is the first time I’ve admitted it to myself. I always thought—” I close my eyes. Hope. It was desperate hope. Obsessive hope. Irrational hope. But hope. The only hope I had. A chance to be redeemed from the unthinkable and the unforgivable. And if chances could stack up one way, given enough time, maybe they could stack up the other way too.

But not this time. I open my eyes.

Mira sobs. Aidan holds her.

I feel calm. Disconnected. Like I am a thousand miles away, writing it all out on pink stationery, a distant numbness that keeps me safe and has always kept me safe. Tuck it away, Destiny. Put it in your bottom drawer. No one will ever know. But now they do. I look at Mira, her tears flowing, and my numb shell prickles away. I inhale a quick sharp breath, like it is my first. My fingers tremble.

Seth steps forward and takes my hand. “Maybe now’s the time?”

I look in his eyes, uncertain, thousands of miles disappearing, my feet feeling the anchor of this spot. “Time for what?”

“You never said good-bye, Des. Maybe you need to.” He tugs on my hand gently, pulling me forward toward the gate, and I finally understand his intention.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson
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