Нора Робертс - Year One

Remembered how he’d liked to sit out on his front porch after dinner, smoking a cigar, sipping a whiskey. How she’d seen him out there from her bedroom window, cold or heat, rain or shine.

“When?”

“I guess it’s been two weeks, or near to three for your dad. Your mom a few days after. Your mom had your brother bring your dad home from the hospital. He didn’t want to go there. And she, well, she never went. So, and I hope it’s some solace for you, they died at home like they wanted. I helped Theo bury them in the backyard, between those weeping cherries your mom loved so much.”

“Theo.”

“Honey, I … I buried him myself not a week later. I wish I could give you better news.”

She drew back, stared into eyes full of sorrow and sympathy. “I need to…”

“Sure you do. Listen, honey, the power’s been out for a while now, so there’s no heat or light, but I’ve got the keys right here if you want to go inside.”

“Yes, yes, but I need to go out back. I need to see.”

“You go ahead.”

“We’re on the buddy system,” Chuck began as Arlys trudged away. “Should I—”

“She’s all right,” Fred told him. “I’ll go after her in a minute, but she needs to be alone first. I’m Fred. I worked with Arlys in New York. This is Chuck.”

“Bill Anderson. We lived across the street from Arlys and her family more than thirty years.”

“These are our friends,” Fred continued. “Rachel and Katie and Jonah, and the babies.”

“Babies?” Some light moved into his face as he adjusted his glasses. “I’ll be damned, three of them? We ought to get them inside. We shouldn’t stand out here in the open too long.”

He fished in his pocket, took out a huge ring with dozens of keys.

“Have you had any problems—violence?” Jonah amended.

“Had some trouble early on, and some spots here and there off and on. Nobody much left now,” he continued as he kicked his way up to the porch. “Van Thompson down the block, he’s gone a little crazy. He shoots at shadows, inside the house and out. Set his own car on fire a couple nights ago, yelling how there were demons inside it.”

He picked through the keys, all labeled, pulled out the ones marked Reid , and unlocked the door.

“Feels colder in than out, but it’s better to be inside.”

The house opened to a traditional living room, pin-neat.

Bill let out a little sigh. “I cleaned out most of the supplies. Didn’t see the point in leaving them. If you’re hungry, I’ve got food and my camp stove and whatnot over at the house. I can bring it over.”

“We’re fine.” Rachel pulled off her cap.

“I’m going to go out now, to Arlys. Thanks for letting us come inside, Mr. Anderson.”

“Bill.” He smiled at Fred. “As hard as it is, it’s good to have people around.”

Outside, under the skeletal branches of the weeping cherries, Arlys stood looking at three graves. Marked with crosses made from wood scraps. Had Mr. Anderson dug out Theo’s old woodburning kit to write the names?

Robert Reid

Carolyn Reid

Theodore Reid

But … but … Her father had always been so strong, her mother so vibrant, her brother so young. How could they all be gone? How could their lives just be over?

How much had they suffered? How much had they feared while she’d been in New York telling lies and half-truths to a camera?

“I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Arlys squeezed her eyes shut as Fred put an arm around her waist. “I know you’re sad. I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve come home. I should’ve been here.”

“Could you have saved them?”

“No, but I’d have been here. Helped take care of them, given them comfort. Said good-bye.”

“Arlys, you’re saying good-bye now. And what you did in New York gave comfort to we don’t know how many people. Being able to hear you and see you every day. And at the end? What you did? We don’t know how many people you might have saved. You saved me,” Fred insisted when Arlys shook her head. “I wouldn’t have left, and maybe they’d have taken me to some testing place, locked me up. Chuck, too. Katie and the babies, all of them. You saved some who could be saved. It matters.”

“My family—”

“Must have been proud of you. I bet they’re proud of the way you figured out how to get out of New York, how you came all the way back here to stand over them now. It shows you loved them, and love matters.”

“I knew they were gone.” She had to take careful breaths to get the words out. “I knew in my head even before we left New York.”

“But you came because you loved them. Is it all right if I pray their souls find peace? I feel like they have, but I’d still like to.”

Undone, Arlys turned her face into Fred’s hair. “They would’ve liked you.”

She wept a little, knew she’d weep more, but now she had to decide—they all did—what to do next. She hadn’t thought beyond coming home.

They went inside. Pangs twisted and pulled as she walked through the kitchen, saw her mother’s wooden spoons in the white pitcher, the fancy coffeemaker she’d given her father for Christmas, the holiday photo of the four of them Theo had taken with a selfie stick centered on the kitchen corkboard.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, then dropped them.

“There are things we can use. We’ll need to make room.”

“You don’t have to think about that right now.”

“Yes, we do, Fred.” She took the photo, slipped it into her coat pocket. “We all have to think.”

She walked to the living room. Katie sat on the couch with a baby at each breast. The third slept in Bill Anderson’s arms. Chuck peeked through a chink in the curtains.

“Rachel and Jonah?”

He glanced back at Arlys. “Outside. We don’t want anyone happening by and getting our supplies. Sorry, Arlys. I want to say we’re all sorry.”

“I know. Mr. Anderson—”

“Make it Bill now.”

“Bill, I didn’t ask about Mrs. Anderson, or Masie and Will.”

“Theo helped me bury Ava before he took sick. Masie, she … she’s with her mom now, her husband and our two grandchildren with them.”

“Oh, Mr.… Oh, Bill.”

“It’s been a hard winter. It’s been … a horrible time. But Will was in Florida on business, and I have to believe, I have to hold on to hope he’s all right. The last I heard from him he was okay, and trying to get home.”

Arlys sat on the edge of the chair next to his. “I’m so sorry.”

“A lot to be sorry about these days. Then you’ve got this.” He brushed a finger over the baby’s cheek. “You’ve got to hold on to it.”

“How many people are still in the neighborhood?”

“Four last count, but Karyn Bickles took sick a couple days ago. I was going to check on her when you rolled up. Some died, some left.”

On a fresh sweep of cold air, Rachel came in. “We’re going to take shifts watching our supplies. I’m sorry about your family, Arlys.”

“Thanks.” There would be time, plenty of time, for sorrow later. “Bill says there are four left in the neighborhood, one of them sick. Bill, Rachel is a doctor.”

“So she told me. The hard fact is a doctor won’t help Karyn. She’s got the virus. I’ve seen enough of it to know.”

“I might be able to make her more comfortable.”

“Well, I’ve got a key to her place. I can take you over.”

Practical matters, Arlys thought. Next steps. “The rest of us should go through the house, see what we can use. What we have room for. We can’t stay here without heat or water.”

“Jonah and I were talking about that. We thought maybe south, maybe into Kentucky or toward Virginia,” Rachel said.