Widows

I fled to the woods the morning after the funeral. I had always escaped there and I must have had a vague idea that it would help somehow. But I didn't even make it to the hollow log where I used to keep my bow.

I didn't know that grief was so physical. After I lost Prim I had been so badly burned that I expected my body to hurt. Now I was healthy, but not whole. The woods were colorless, cold and alien. I wanted to scream in rage at the world, but when I tried I could only let out a shrill, keening wail. My head spun and the ground heaved beneath me. I stopped running and threw my arms out, but still tripped and staggered. When I hit the ground I fell apart. I had not cried since the day before Peeta died, but now I was wracked with great choking, tearless sobs. I don't know how long it was until I lay on the ground, exhausted.

Mom and Annie found me there, lying partly in the mud, partly in some snow. I let them lead me back to the house. My mother's grief had been silent, closed off from all of us. Mine was loud and violent. But then it left me numb and gray.

Someone decided that I should go stay with Annie. I must have agreed. We took a train and its gentle rocking put me to sleep for the first time in days. Annie, little Finnick, and Annie's mother, Susan, lived in a weathered white house near the shore. I could hear the ocean from my room. For two weeks I moved like a ghost from my room to a chair downstairs and back, listening to the constant hush of the waves. I was always wrapped in a wool blanket. I was so cold.

Then Annie began to pull me back. She put Finnie on my lap while she made lunch. She put his spoon in my hand and asked me to feed him. She asked me to dry the dishes as she washed them. Her mother held my hand as we walked down to the shore. We watched Finnie crawl in the sand. Annie walked barefoot in the ocean, but I kept my boots on. The sand was frigid, dead. I pulled my blanket tighter.

My mother came to visit every weekend. Her hospital was in town. She would catch a ride with Annie's brothers when they came back from the pier in their truck. Jonah and Davy lived in their own house, just down the road.

She brought me her tea, but it didn't help. At night we all sat in the living room, Annie and her mother embroidering things, my mother talking. I listened as she told Annie and Susan about the hospital, watching the building go up, hiring doctors, nurses, buying equipment. I found it hard to focus, but I liked to hear the sound of their voices. They took Finnie to play in the surf. It was spring now and starting to grow warmer. They invited me to come, but I couldn't stand the thought of the cold water.

Whenever my mom left it was quieter. Susan was spent a lot of time outside, getting ready to put in a garden. I didn't have the energy to talk to Annie. She talked to me and to little Finnie while she worked, but of the two of us, he was more responsive. I did listen. She told us what she was doing, what she was thinking, and she told us about Finnick. She said that little Finnie needed to know about his daddy. She told us how they met, how they fell in love, how they finally married. They were beautiful stories, but it seemed she was telling them to me at least as much as Finnie.

I knew she was worried about me. I would sometimes hear her talking on the phone in a hushed voice. I didn't know who she was talking to, probably either my mother or Haymitch, but I had a feeling they were discussing me. I went for a walk, alone, on the shore. I felt hollow, empty. My true self had blown away, out into the ether with Peeta. What was left behind was only a shell, a cold body I had to feed.

That night, once again, I couldn't sleep. I sat in a chair in my room, wrapped in my blanket, my knees pulled up to my chest. The numbness was gone and in its place was raw pain. Usually I tried not to think of Peeta, but now I could think of no one else. I looked at my left hand and studied the ring he had given me, the pearl he had given me in the arena set in a delicate silver setting. I gazed out the window at beautiful stars shining in a clear sky.

It was after we went back to District 12, after the pacemaker operation. The house, our house, that Haymitch and friends had put up was bare, but it was ours.

Peeta was so much more relaxed. He sketched, drew and painted. He baked. He talked with friends. He didn't seem afraid to die. In fact, once more, he was comforting me. I wanted to ask him why he wasn't afraid, but I did not want to seem to be telling him that he should worry.

One night as we sat in front of our fireplace, with no fire in it, he asked "Can I tell you about something that happened to me in the Capitol?"

I was surprised. He never wanted to talk about that time, except occasionally to ask "Real or not real?"

"Of course," I said, ignoring the fear in my stomach.

"I won't tell you too many details," he said, but I interrupted.

"You don't have to protect me. If you want to tell me what happened, just tell me."

"It was during the . . . the electric shocks. I was worn out. I hurt all over. I didn't think I could take it anymore. I called out for help. I called for my dad. And he came."

I was holding Peeta's hands in mine. He had not been meeting my eyes, until the last thing he said. I frowned at him.

"I know. You are wondering if I was hallucinating, if this is one of my shiny memories. That's the thing. It is not shiny at all. And he seemed so real. All he did was hold my hand, but as soon as he touched me all of the pain was gone. Instead, I felt at peace, loved. And I knew that he was dead. He was somewhere else, watching over me."

"Was that . . . was that when your heart stopped?" I asked.

"No, well, it was just before I think. I could hear people yelling in the room, but they seemed very far away. I was looking down at my own body. I even noticed how calm my face looked. I started swirling, but all through it I could feel him holding my hand. Then I felt the jolt as they restarted my heart. I was back in my body and I felt sore, but the peaceful feeling stayed for the rest of the day. And when I needed strength, like when I needed to find a way to warn District 13, I thought of my dad and he helped me.

"I am not worried about what is going to happen to me. I am going to be with my dad. I am worried about what you will do," he said, wrapping his arms around me.

"I don't want to think about it."

"Listen, you have to know that I will be watching over you. I will find a way to help you, some way to let you know that I still love you, no matter where I am," he said.

"Don't say that." I couldn't stand false hope, living in a fantasy world. "You don't know that you will be able to do anything."

"Yes, I do. You don't know, but I do. Please, when things are bad, call me. Ask me for help." He was so insistent.

I had not wanted to do this. It seemed silly, childish, ridiculous. And yes, I didn't think I could handle the disappointment when it didn't work.

But I felt so alone. I missed Peeta so much. And even though it seemed crazy I trusted him. So I called out to him, softly at first, then louder, loud enough that I was afraid I might wake Annie up: "Peeta, help me!"

Nothing happened. He did not appear. My pain did not go away. And once again I felt disoriented, dizzy, spinning with grief.

The next day I went walking on the shore. I was alone, but I could feel Annie watching me out the window. She always watched me. Did she know what I was thinking? Had she thought such thoughts herself? I just wanted the pain to end. I looked at the ocean and thought of swimming out to sea and never coming back. I couldn't do it. I was too cold and the water was frigid. But I thought about it. Annie would be sad. My mother would cry. Haymitch would curse me. But no one really needed me anymore. All of my anchors were gone.

I walked slowly back to the house, to try, once again, to eat lunch. Then right next to me a flash of green and blazing yellow caught my eye. A dandelion. I dropped to my knees to see it.

It was from Peeta. I knew this as surely as I knew my own name. He was watching over me. He was telling me, once again, that I could survive. I sat on the ground and looked at this beautiful flower, the first one of spring.

Annie and Finnie came out on the back porch, to see if I was okay.

"Annie, come see. Isn't it beautiful?" I called to her. They came over. She looked as though she wanted to tell me that in District 4 dandelions weren't considered such a big thing, but she didn't say anything. Probably because I was smiling for the first time since I'd been here. She set Finnie down and he crawled over to look at it, but I kept a protective hand blocking him from harming my flower. Finnie soon became more interested in letting dirt and sand run through his fingers. I thought about telling Annie about Peeta, about his dad, about the dandelion in the school yard. But I decided that I want to keep this for myself, in my heart.

We went inside for lunch.

A couple of days later we had clam chowder for dinner. I told Annie that it was good, but Annie looked up at Susan and me and said "Don't tell the boys, but I am sick of clams."

"How can you be sick of clams?" I asked.

Susan laughed. "When you are from up in District 4 and your father and then your brothers are clammers, that's when."

"One thing I miss about District 13 is the meat," Annie sighed.

"Do you ever trade the clams for something else?" I asked.

"My brothers do. In town, in the market. But it is mostly just other fish. Which is a nice change, but I miss venison stew."

"Well, what about the woods down the beach? Are you allowed to hunt there?" I asked.

"Hunting, poaching, was illegal. But that was before, under the old regime," said Susan.

"I don't know about now," said Annie.

"I could go look. Did anyone bring my bow?"

"But the forest is dangerous. All sorts of predators in there – bears, wolves, bobcats, who knows what."

"Don't worry. I'll be armed. I can take care of myself."

So, the next day I went into the woods again. District 4's woods were different. The trees were taller. There was less light. The squirrels were odd-looking, darker. But they were still squirrels. And they were not used to being hunted. I shot a squirrel and my shot was a bit off. I still got it, but I stopped to try to remember. When was the last time I had hunted? I went once after Peeta and I were back in District 12, but before that it had been months. I was going to need to practice. I was about to get another squirrel when I saw two fat rabbits. "Stew," I thought to myself. I brought down the first one easily, but the second, the one that was on the run, was faster than I expected and I missed.

"Oh well," I thought. "This chubby little rabbit will do for a small stew." I collected enough dandelion greens for a salad.

Annie and Susan were thrilled. She invited her brothers over for dinner and we enjoyed our feast. They had a tradition of bowing their heads and saying thanks before their meals. I joined in and was truly thankful that I had been able to make them happy. We were all careful not to say anything about being tired of clams in front of Jonah and Davy, though.

After that, I went hunting every day. The boys carefully asked around in town and, while no one was sure whether it was legal or not, no one knew of anyone who had been punished for hunting. After a while we had more meat than we could eat. The boys started taking it into to town to trade. They brought us back baskets of strawberries, spring peas and collard greens, honey and a bottle of wine. That night we had another feast. My mother joined us and Annie cooked a wild turkey I had shot. I had not eaten turkey since Gale was whipped for shooting one. The evening was so much fun that no one noticed that I still could not eat the turkey. I was eating more now, but it had been a long time since I was really hungry.

Little Finnie tried to eat the peas and I smiled as his fat little fingers struggled to pick them up as they rolled. Davy and Jonah entertained us with stories of how they worked together to get the best trades. Davy would admire something at a stand, then Jonah would walk up and start pointing out all of the flaws in whatever Davy had admired, until the trader lowered the price. They promised to take Annie and me into town the next time they were trading and show us how they worked. I asked them to find out if the best traders had anything they would particularly like from the forest.

The next week we had the perfect chance to go into town. I'd shot a raccoon and we did not want to eat it, but the fur is worth good money and some people liked the meat. I also brought another turkey and a bunch of borage. I had thought I wanted to go into town, but just before the boys were going to pick us up in their truck I changed my mind.

"Annie, I don't think I can do this," I said. "I'll just stay home with your mom."

She put Finnie down to play with some toys and came over to me. "What's the matter?"

"I just . . . there will be a lot of people, and they might recognize me, and they will ask me questions about . . . ." I stopped. I couldn't say his name.

"It's early," she said. "It won't be too crowded. How about if you wear this?" She pulled out a hooded cloak. "It's still cold enough. We can even wrap a scarf around your face if you like."

Since I was always cold, the cloak and scarf felt wonderful. When we got into the truck Davy raised his eyebrows at me, but Jonah just shrugged. All four of us, five with Finnie, squished onto the front bench seat. It was a big truck though, so it wasn't too crowded.

My mother met us in town. She had agreed to introduce me to the town apothecary, Cynthia Spicer. I brought her the borage. When mother asked her if there was anything that she needed from the forest she quickly made a list: bloodroot, clery sage, a dozen other herbs. I wished I had our plant book, but that was one of the few belongings I had left in District 12.

The market was bigger than the Hob had been. Of course, this one was legal. I glanced at a newsstand and saw the tabloid headlines: "Paylor Survives Poisoning Attempt;" "Hawthorne Breaks Another Heart." I turned away and wished I hadn't seen that.

We watched the boys as they haggled over the raccoon. This time they used their tactic in reverse. Davy showed the catch to the buyer and Jonah kept pointing out "what a fine specimen" it was. I thought they got a good price for it, although I heard them muttering about 'robbery' and 'bad bargain.'

Annie had asked them to buy some more honey for her, so we found a booth down at the end of a row with a bunch of miscellaneous goods for sale. As Jonah negotiated, I noticed that they were selling goat cheese. My knees felt weak as I thought of Prim and her goat. I stared transfixed at the small bundle. The rebellion had changed so many things, but I just wanted to be back in our old home, smearing cheese on simple bread with Prim.

Suddenly Jonah grabbed my arm. "Come on," he said. We pushed through the crowd, which had grown quite a bit since we arrived, following Davy and Annie. As we hurried I realized that Davy had handed Finnie to my mother and had his arm around Annie. She was hunched over with her hands over her ears again. I hadn't seen her do that since I'd been in District 4.

In the truck, Annie curled up in the middle of the seat. Jonah drove and Davy talked to Annie while stroking her hair. My mother came with us. She and I rode with Finnie in the back of the truck. It smelled of fish, but we sat with our backs pressed up against the cab. I was holding Finnie, who was fussing. He could tell something was wrong. He didn't like being separated from his mother. About halfway back to the house he was so exhausted that he fell asleep.

At dinner Annie seemed better, but still not herself. She had stopped covering her ears and was cooing while she fed Finnie. However, she still flinched when someone dropped a fork.

Late in the night I woke to the sound of Finnie crying. Annie's mom had taken a sleeping pill so she was out cold. I went to see if he was okay. As I passed by Annie's room I saw Mother in with her, comforting her as she rocked on her bed, with her ears covered again. When I picked up Finnie I could tell right away that he was burning with fever. I peeked in and told my mother, then took him downstairs, trying to console him, to keep him from bothering Annie.

I put a cold cloth on his forehead, rocked him and held him, but still he cried on and on. Finally, my mother came down. She said Annie was asleep now. I held Finnie while Mom carefully measured and watered down some sleep syrup. She said that the hospital has medicine for a baby's fever and cursed herself for not making sure Annie had some. Even after he swallowed the sleep syrup, Finnie kept crying. He was now obviously tired, but wouldn't stop crying long enough to fall asleep.

Then I looked up and Annie was there. She looked a bit crazed, but when she held out her arms for Finnie I gave him to her. She went upstairs and we followed her. She nursed Finnie and soon they were both asleep in her bed.

I went downstairs for some tea. I was too shaken to sleep yet. My mother handed me a cup of tea and said "Don't worry. It's regular tea. It's good."

I smiled. I had been drinking her special tea when I could, but it really did taste horrible. I couldn't tell if it helped or not.

Mother broke the silence. She was standing, looking out the window at the sea. "You know, I barely remember those first months after your father died." There was a time when I wouldn't have believed her. Now I thought back to my first few weeks and I understood. I didn't really remember Peeta's funeral at all, only that there had been lots of people, lots of flowers and some cameras.

"I hope you know that it wasn't that I didn't love you girls. It was just more than my mind could take." She looked so sad. I walked over and took her hand.

"It's okay, Mom," I said.

"I just wish you didn't have to go through this, too," she said and pulled me into a hug.

We all slept late the next morning. I was dreaming of dandelions.

By the next afternoon, Annie seemed normal enough and I decided to go hunting. I was getting used to these woods, feeling more at home there. I had left some snares and I needed to check them. It was a good thing that I did, since almost every one had a kill. The last one I checked had a large rabbit which was unbelievably tangled.

I was cutting it free when I froze. I felt eyes on me. I looked around. It was dusk and the forest was growing dark so at first I didn't see it. Then I forced myself to check again, slower. This time I saw the eyes, up a slight hill, glaring down at me. Who knows, maybe it had already decided to come take this rabbit out of my snare for its dinner. Now I had an angry, probably hungry, bobcat stalking me. I slipped the rabbit into my bag. I nocked an arrow. I lowered my eyes so it wouldn't feel that I was challenging it and began to back down the way I had come in. I moved as quickly as I could without any sudden movements. Every once in a while I glanced up to see if it was following. At first it did, but after coming a hundred yards it stopped. I kept going. I could feel a cold sweat sliding down my neck. Now I was moving sideways, one eye back to watch out for the bobcat, one eye looking forward, finding my way. When I saw the light break through, that told me I was almost back on the beach, I turned and ran full out.

There was a large rock on the beach. I stopped there to catch my breath and so that I wouldn't look like a mad woman when I got to Annie's. My hands were shaking. I went and washed them in the surf. The cool water calmed me. I scolded myself for getting lax. I was used to hunting, but the forest was still a dangerous place, especially at dusk, especially alone. There was a reason it was good to have someone to watch your back. I wondered if Annie could learn to come with me, then remembered Finnie. That wouldn't work. I didn't think her mom was up to it either. I would just have to be more careful.

As I came up Annie's back steps I stopped. She was on the phone in the kitchen. We didn't use the phone much. Her brothers usually just came over. My mom would call to tell us if she couldn't make it on the weekend, but otherwise she just showed up on Fridays with the boys. But now that I thought about it, I noticed that on Sunday nights Annie had been asking me to put Finnie to bed. Once or twice I had come down to see her hanging up the phone. Was someone courting Annie? She was pretty enough, but I didn't see how it could be anyone I didn't know about. Why was she so secretive about these calls?

I reached the door and heard her say "Here she comes. Gotta go," then she hung up. I decided that next week I was going to intercept the Sunday night phone call.

Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta IrishLuck19. Her comments are always perfect!

Thanks also to my lovely reviewers:

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