Chapter Twelve

Dawning

"Can you possibly understand what I'm going through?" I demanded, pacing the upstairs floor of the poultry farm. A week had passed since my latest episode, yet word had only just spread of it. I should've known it would become fodder for the rumor mill, being that Anna's granddaughter had bore witness to it. If Sasha hadn't been kind and sincere enough as to explain this to me, I may have never known what had been conspired against me in hushed whispers. "It's not as if I have any control over any of this..." I moaned, throwing myself onto the comforter.

"Dear, I do understand," the older woman assured me while she rested her frail hand on my own. Although the smile never faded, I knew she was hurting even more than I ever could, and the guilt for what I'd said begin to eat away at me as soon as I realized it. Here she was, completely bedridden without her husband at her side, yet I only pitied myself. My behavior was uncalled for.

It wasn't as though I'd forgotten that she, too, had a wayward husband.

"Lillia..." I sobbed, my voice hitching in my throat. "You told me once that you could handle anything as long as you had your children. How can I do that when he's the very thing that pushes me over the edge?" She made soothing circles on my back as I poured my heart out on her chest. I nestled into her further, choosing to rest my head on her shoulder, and her soft pink curls brushed against my damp cheeks. Even after all these years of being alone, she was the most beautiful woman I'd laid eyes on. Not only in the physical sense... but her very soul.

"There, there now," she cooed softly, smoothing down my hair. Her thin fingers ran through my blonde strands like spider legs, and I involuntarily shivered under their crawl. She'd aged inside though her exterior was as radiant as ever. Maybe that's why none of us realized how terribly she had suffered all this time. The doctor's recent diagnosis had been a cruel wake-up call for everyone who had fooled themselves into believing that her health was finally beginning to turn for the better. We were all at fault for letting her deteriorate this far... "You're a wonderful mother, Claire. Rick sees that, too, you know."

"That's what he told me," I answered weakly, clinging to her nightgown. My breath was shaky as I tried to compose myself with a sigh. "I just can't believe him anymore."

"And why would you say that?" she replied with a faint laugh. Even while her world was collapsing, she kept smiling. Perhaps it was the only way she could cope with the disillusionment that had become her life.

"Because he won't tell me why he's still with me after all this time. He shouldn't be with me... I just want to know why he is."

"Do you really need an answer?" she challenged gently. "My son might not put it into words, but his actions speak for him. He-"

"I know that..." I interrupted her, breathless with frustration for both myself and his reluctance to explain himself. "But I want him to say it, Lillia. I know it's selfish, but I want him to. I really, really do."

"That's okay," she agreed wistfully. "People can be selfish from time to time, but it doesn't make anyone less deserving of being loved." I lifted myself from her delicate body, and for the first time since I'd known her, I found Lillia was crying...

And for me, of all people.

"Lillia," I began solemnly, brushing away a few stray tears. How was it that she could look so beautiful even when her cheeks were stained with sadness? I nearly gasped as she opened her eyes fully, for I had never seen them before. They were... blue-green, just like her son's. Given how much Popuri took after her, I had wrongly assumed they would be rare rubies set with her feminine features, but there they were, just as brilliant as his own. "I'm-"

"Please, Claire," she begged before taking a deep and labored breath. "Never blame yourself for what's happened." She took her hand in mine once again, and I suddenly realized how they were rapidly becoming colder to the touch. Although I was fearful for her, she held fast, not allowing me to go for help. Maybe she didn't understand what was coming, or she could've known all along. I had to accept that I would never know for certain because she was falling fast. However, I couldn't forget her last words as she slipped away into oblivion.

"You know... I always blamed myself," Lillia confessed, her voice little more than a faint whisper. "My only hope is that you can find the strength to forgive yourself. If not for your sake... then for my boy's."

When she took her final quivering breath, the ever present smile resurfaced, and soon after, she became unearthly still. A sob hitched in my throat during the silence which followed, but I held in my grief. Lillia was... gone... and there was nothing else I could for her. I heard someone coming up the stairs though I didn't raise my head to see who it was. I didn't have to.

"Claire..."

"Oh, Rick, she's..." I began, trembling with all sorts of emotions such as fear, sadness, anger, love, loneliness, and disgust. The latter was for myself because I had been the one to steal her precious, dwindling moments with my own heartache. Surely she wanted to express her own hurt after being abandoned by her own husband. Rod's letters had clearly been of little comfort to her, yet she had treasured his memory until the very end. If I had known she was carefully gathering her pains throughout the years, I shouldn't have been so hungry for her assurances. "She's-"

"I know," he mumbled, guiding me back away from what had once been a vibrant woman, now colorless in death. Even her hair had become tinted with an ashen gray after the short time that transpired since her passing. He drew me close to him, and I buried my face in Rick's chest while he rested his head on my own. Although I hazarded a guess he had expected her fate long before, it was more than understandable that he was mourning. After all, she had been his mother... not mine.

"Momma?" I heard my own son's voice call from the top of the stairs. My eyes widened, fearful that he might witness such a traumatic scene so early in his life. Though he had certainly seen me die on the inside enough in his brief existence, true death was something he wasn't familiar with, nor did I want him to be.

"Lance," the older man warned, "go down-"

"N-no, Rick," I whispered hesitantly. "He has every right to see her." My words were filled with uncertainty, yet I called him all the same. My companion questioned me curiously with his gaze, but when I glanced up at him, he nodded weakly in understanding. If we were a true family, like we were raising Lance to believe, then Lillia was certainly his grandmother. She had done so much to help us with his care in young life that I couldn't bear to deny him the right to say good-bye.

Gently, I grasped the little boy's dark-skinned hand into my pale one. His warm, brown eyes were filled with concern for me, unsure whether or not I wanted him to say anything. However, I wouldn't have known what I could possibly say to explain what had transpired, so I knelt down instead. When I was on his level, I opened my arms for him to come and hold me. He embraced me willingly, resting his head against my neck, and as I held him, I heard him whisper in my ear, "Please don't cry, Momma... Grandma doesn't like to see you cry."

I nodded reassuringly, not wanting to let him go.

--

We stood together in the early hours before dawn, although the entire town had gathered beside the church to pay their last respects, there were only eight of us which stood before the casket now. Gotz had been kind enough to provide it for her, and it'd been custom made as well, with ornate flowers carved into its glossy oak surface. Those standing directly in her presence were solemn, including Lance who stood in front of me dressed in a suit with my hands resting on his shoulders. Rick kept me close, rubbing my back in soothing circles much like his mother had only a few days before. Popuri was beside him, but she found her comfort in Father Carter, hiding her face within the folds of his preacher's gown which was appropriately dyed black.

Karen stood off to the side with her mourning mother, glancing at Rick from time to time, but she made no sign of coming to offer consoling words to her best friend since he was rather numb to the whole affair. Zack, too, was present although he had no one to offer reassurances. He held the shovel loosely in his hand while he stared off towards the western horizons, and I reasoned he was sending a message to his old friend in some distant land.

Rod was still out there somewhere, searching for a cure for the wife he didn't even realize had been lost. She was consumed by the very illness he had swore to save her from. However, none of us would speak on his behalf because there was simply nothing left to say on the matter. He had failed her...

Not by failing to find a cure, but by not being there for her when she needed him most.

After the other villagers had left us chosen few to have our last moments with Lillia, I waited patiently for the words that were to be spoken before the casket would be lowered into the earth and buried. Gratefully, Carter uttered them at the most meaningful moment just before sunrise. Ironically... the funeral was taking place during New Year's, a time that was meant for hope in the coming year. "Is there anyone present who would care to offer their final good-byes?

Zack and Rick glanced away, and although Popuri attempted to, her words became garbled by her tears. Finally, she gave a frustrated wail before throwing herself at the unsuspecting preacher. His cheeks became a bright scarlet, yet he did his best to remind her that her mother would never truly be gone as long as she kept the memories alive within her.

Therefore, I took it upon myself to express my thanks to the kind and loving woman. It was the least I could do to repay her generosity and goodness towards me. I ruffled Lance's hair and then handed my son over to Rick's care. Karen soon stepped beside them as well, placing a hand on her childhood friend's shoulder. He gave her hand a squeeze before offering her a small smile in thanks.

Running my fingers over the engraving which bore the woman's name, I smiled weakly while remembering what she had once said to me. I knew this was the perfect opportunity to make the true source of her happiness known to those she had held close and dear to her fragile heart.

"Lillia," I began quietly, lifting my head up towards the sky. If she was anywhere, surely it'd be heaven... "You once told me that your family was my own..." I heard her daughter's sobs soften to little more than sniffles, and I could feel her son gazing at me with his mother's eyes. However, I pressed on with my voice peaceful, yet assured. I have to be the one to comfort them, I though with a calm resolution. "You also said that I could be strong for my son, and when I asked you how you could have possibly know, you offered some precious wisdom with me that I'd like to share with your loved ones as well."

All eyes fell intently on me, wondering what secret knowledge she had bestowed upon me, someone to whom she owed nothing. I had often shared those concerns, but I knew Lillia well enough to understand how much she loved and cared for me. In her mind, I was a very special woman much like herself although she took this truth with her beyond tangible reach. Still, that did nothing to hurt me. Finally, I couldn't hold back the blessed words, and they came spilling out into the crisp air for all to hear.

"For your children, you found the strength to face the heartache without ever feeling alone... If nothing else, I hope that can comfort them in this time of mourning. It... certainly did for my own."

Returning to Rick and my son, I could see the tears falling freely down and staining his cheeks. The cold and his hot breath misted his glasses, hiding his tender gaze from me, but I could tell he was grateful. He immediately pulled me into a tight, desperate hug while he tried to thank me in choked sobs. Lance was caught between us, yet my child didn't protest. I only felt him cling to my skirt which told me just how much he understood.

After all, he had lost a father as well.