“What are you doing here? How? How did you find me?”
Am I imagining him standing before me? Is this all in my head—wishful thinking?
The biting cold hitting my exposed skin is the only thing that is keeping sanity present. It acts like the slap to the face I need in order to remain in the present. I reach out to be sure I’m still awake or alive and touch his arm.
He’s here. He’s really here.
He remains frozen in place as if the storm is holding him hostage.
“Ember,” he says as he pulls a scarf away from his mouth.
Christopher’s eyes are wide, flecks of snow on his lashes. He seems as stunned to see me as I am him.
“I was scared I’d never find you,” he says, still not moving toward me. It’s as if part of us both want to throw ourselves into each other’s arms, but something more powerful is holding us back.
“Ember?” I hear Holly call from inside. “Who’s at the door?”
Her words seem to free me from my stunned daze, and I reach for Christopher’s arm and pull him inside from the swirling snow outside. The church isn’t exactly warm, but it’s shelter from the storm.
I pause and look over my shoulder at two wide-eyed women who stand terrified by the fire.
“This is Christopher,” I say. “He’s my husband. Or… he was my husband.” I lick my lips, trying to soothe the dryness that is causing my voice to crack.
I look at Christopher, whose head snaps in my direction as if I just punched him. “I am your husband, Ember. I’m your husband, and I’ve come to bring you home.”
I lift my hand up to silently tell Holly and Violet that everything is all right and then return my stare to Christopher, who is scanning the room with a clenched jaw and darkened eyes.
“Where are they?” he asks.
I take a step toward him, still wanting to desperately throw myself into his arms and beg him to never let me go. But I can also see by his clamped fists and his stiffened spine that he’s in the mood for a confrontation.
He’s ready for a fight. A fight he’ll win.
“Gone,” I say, hoping my answer is all that is needed to soothe his fury.
“What do you mean gone?” He then points at Holly and Violet. “Who are they?”
Holly takes a protective step toward Violet and wraps her arm around her sister’s frail shoulders. “Ember? What’s going on?” she asks.
All eyes are on me, and I feel as if I’m the only person in the room who truly has no grasp of reality. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t even know if this is real or if I’ve somehow mentally cracked and am living some alternate reality. There’s no way Christopher can be standing here in our house out in the middle of nowhere.
How did he find me?
Why would he even bother trying?
“Were you outside earlier, watching us?” I ask.
Confusion washes over his face. “No. I’ve been hiking all day, hoping to find you. Then I saw the smoke from the chimney and ran straight here. I hoped it was you. God, I’m so happy it is.”
“How did you find us?”
“The same pilot who took you flew me here,” he says. “And a shitload of luck.”
“You risked your life—”
“Where is Richard?” Christopher asks, taking his snow-covered backpack off and spinning around the room some more.
“He and Scarecrow left to find us a new home,” Holly answers for me. I’m grateful for her, since I can barely swallow my own spit, let alone speak in complete sentences. “They aren’t here and won’t be for quite some time.”
And thank God for that. If they had been here, what would have happened? Someone would end up hurt, maybe dead. There is no way the meeting of the men would end good. I need to get Christopher out of here before they return, because the clash of the Titans would be devastating for all.
Christopher’s eyes narrow on Holly. “And you are?”
Holly looks at Violet and then back at him. “We’re Scarecrow’s wives. We live here.”
He takes a moment to analyze both women, who stand barefoot by the fire, wearing thin and worn floral dresses, and I wonder if he sees the old me in them. Does he see the ghost of Hallelujah Junction?
He subtly shakes his head, then closes the distance between him and me and finally takes me into his arms. Pressing my face into his chest, he holds me as if he never plans to let me go. “I was worried I would never see you again.”
Wrapping my arms around his back and inhaling his spicy scent even through the wetness of his coat, I whisper back, “I never thought I’d see you again.”
He presses his lips to the top of my head. “Why? Why did you leave?”
“I had to” is my only response.
“No, you didn’t. You shouldn’t have. You belong with me. We belong together.”
I want to argue and explain why he’s wrong, but I don’t have the energy to fight the moment of euphoria I’m feeling from within the security of his arms.
“Ember?” I hear Violet’s voice from behind me. “What’s going on? Are you leaving?”
I break the hug and see a woman whose eyes are glistening and lip is trembling. I don’t know how to answer her, because I don’t know what’s happening next.
Am I leaving?
Will I leave with Christopher?
Is it as simple as that? Or is it as difficult as that?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
“I don’t think he should be here,” Violet adds. “If Scarecrow finds out about this….”
“No one’s leaving right now,” Holly says as she points to the side window revealing the snow, which is coming down harder and harder by the second. “It’s a storm outside that is only going to get worse, and walking out that door will mean death.”
Christopher reaches for his backpack and pulls out a large black phone. He presses some buttons and frowns at the screen. He then points it above his head and continues to scowl. “I need to get someplace not within the trees to get a better signal.”
I instantly think of the cliff overlooking the canyon, but there’s no way we can make our way there in this storm safely. “I know where we can go, but not until the snow stops.”
He places the phone back in his bag and returns his attention to me. “Where exactly did Richard go?”
“Wyoming,” I answer, feeling an odd sense of betrayal toward Papa Rich for telling of his whereabouts. “They’re hoping they can find a small mining town like Hallelujah Junction that isn’t so much on the radar as any place in Nevada or California right now.”
“Scarecrow is going to be really angry when he finds out you’re here,” Violet says again, her voice cracking as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
I look at Violet and then Holly. I need a moment alone with Christopher without an audience. Luckily, Holly picks up on my need and discomfort.
She takes Violet by the hand and says, “Let’s go over here and work on the chimney more. The snow’s getting in and will snuff out our stew if we aren’t careful.”
I take this opportunity to take him to my corner of the chapel and pull the curtain to give us some visual privacy. I know that if Holly and Violet want to listen to our conversation, they can, but at least we have some seclusion. But no matter how much we whisper, the reality is that we are all in one room with no walls separating us.