Audra
Dane’s fever was getting worse. I rolled toward him two mornings after we’d spoken of trying to get to a lower altitude, putting my hand on his sweaty forehead as his eyes blinked open. “Hey,” he said, his voice gritty with sleep. My heart started beating faster when I saw his reddened cheeks and slightly glazed eyes.
“Your fever is getting worse,” I said.
He put his hand on my cheek. “I know.”
“It’s your leg. You have an infection, Dane. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing to do. We just need to let my body take care of it. It’ll be fine.”
“What if it isn’t, Dane? Not everything is always fine. Things don’t always just end well! Sometimes they end horribly. We know that better than anyone.”
Dane regarded me for a moment, his gaze moving over my face, pressing his lips together as if he wasn’t sure what to say. He took a long breath, blowing it out. “This will end well.” He leaned forward and kissed me. I knew he was trying to distract me, but I let him. “It will,” he said, and I suspected he was trying to convince both of us. Hope was a funny thing—it didn’t rely on evidence to exist. And I guessed that was sort of the whole point.
He made love to me slowly, his heat simultaneously worrying me and providing comfort. Afterward, he held me as we dozed some more, ne
ither one of us rushing to get up to a breakfast of water and cattail stems. I felt weak, sick, and so tired, I just wanted to sleep continuously.
“I’m going to try to hunt today,” Dane said.
I opened my eyes and stared at the rock in front of me. “How? What?”
“I’ll try some different things. A rock, maybe just surprise. These animals aren’t used to humans in their forest. Hell, it can’t hurt.”
I was pretty darn sure animals would know instinctively to be cautious of anything bigger than them, but I didn’t say that. Maybe we both needed the hope of food—no matter how pitiful the plan, no matter how unlikely of working. Maybe we just needed to feel like we were trying.
“No, I guess not. But you should rest.”
“I’m not resting, Audra. I have a mild fever. I’m not useless.” He sounded offended, his pride hurt, and I knew it still upset him to think about me alone for the first couple of days out here while he’d been unconscious.
“I know that.”
We were both quiet for a few minutes and I’d almost fallen back to sleep, when Dane said, “Can I ask you a question?”
I paused, but nodded. “Yes, anything.”
“Why do you still live in that house?”
I thought about it for a moment, admitting the truth to myself, letting it sit inside for a moment before sharing it with Dane. I knew the answer, and it pained me to admit out loud. “To punish myself.”
“Oh, Audra. Why?” His breath was soft on my neck. His arms held me tightly and I felt safe, loved. I wanted his forgiveness, and I wanted to forgive myself.
“It was my fault that my dad died too.”
“Your fault? How could it be your fault? His heart gave out, sweetheart.”
“I know. But I put him in that home so I could start my own family, and suddenly”—I swallowed back the tears—“suddenly, strangers were taking care of him. I think he just gave up. He didn’t want to be there. I saw it on his face when I visited him, but I convinced myself he’d grow to like it.”
“Audra, honey, he probably would have. And you had a right to find some happiness for yourself too. You were expecting a baby. You had to make a life for him. For us.”
“I know,” I whispered. But did I? “Maybe I should have brought my dad to live with us. The truth is, Dane, I didn’t want to,” I confessed. “All my life, I’d taken care of him and I just wanted”—I sucked in a sharp breath—“I just wanted something for myself. And look what it got us.”
He pulled me closer, smoothing my hair.
“My dad passed away a couple of months after our divorce became final and”—I took a moment to collect myself, the heartache of that day the paperwork had come in the mail washing over me—“I was still so devastated, so numb, that I didn’t . . . I didn’t grieve for him enough.”
“Oh, sweetheart. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve. You did the best you could. The best anyone who had just faced so much loss would do.” He paused for a moment. “I went to his funeral. I watched you from across the cemetery. I—” He blew out a breath and I turned my head.