Faltered: Chapter 2
Dean remained at the doctors for two weeks. In that time John had Jim perform a small service in honor of Mary. John placed a small iron cross on the site of their house in her memory.
John carried the Dean from the doctors to Jim's house by the church early one morning two weeks after the fire. Dean had not spoken in nearly as long. The brown haired boy kept his eyes down and kept any murmurings of pain as small as he could. His ribs were healing well but still sore. The doctor had tried to prepare John for the fact that Dean may not walk again. His knee did not look like it would ever heal right. Every time the old doctor brought up the fact John refused to hear it.
Dean lay in the bed at the pastor's for nearly a week after leaving the Doctor's. John tried talking to the boy, tried begging, and even ordering but Dean would not speak. He didn't look at John or Jim, he ate very little and just looked miserable.
It was on Saturday that John came into the room were Dean lay awake staring at the ceiling. He carried a gurgling baby in his arms. He stood at the foot of Dean's bed and spoke in a low and stern tone.
"Dean you need to get up. I don't care if you never speak to me again but I need you up out of that bed. Sammy needs you up out of that bed. Dean he's your little brother, your responsibility." John then placed the baby in Dean's lap and walked out.
John knew that Dean would never let anything happen to Sammy. The boy had been a loving brother since the day Sammy was born. John felt comfortable leaving the two children alone at least for a little while.
He hadn't been alone since the fire. It felt strange to not have Sam in his arms or Jim watching over his shoulder. Everything was quiet and John walked out to the back of the house where Jim had a garden. John admired the patch of ground. He like being out side in the open air but he'd never been much of a farmer. He didn't get to work out side much with his chosen profession. Generally his Blacksmith's shop was dark and sooty.
John bent down to pull a weed that was growing at his feet. Mary had loved being outside. She had always looked beautiful in the sunlight. Her yellow hair would brighten and her blue eyes would shine. Her cheeks and nose would turn a rosy pink that John always felt added to her beauty.
John took a handful of dirt and let it run threw his fingers. She'd been the sun in his life, whenever she was near his world brightened. He missed her; his whole body ached at the thought of her. That he would never see her face again or hold her close on a winter's night was crushing him. He could feel it his chest tightened making it hard for him to breathe.
His life now seemed moment to moment. He'd get through one moment without her and then there was another to get through. Everything reminded him of her. It was all still so fresh in his mind. He'd given her a service even though there was nothing to bury; everyone had said it would give him closure. But it hadn't, there was no closure not until he understood what had happened. The image haunted him, his wife bleeding on the ceiling, while his baby and terrified son looked on.
The town's people who didn't know the truth, assumed the fire had been an accident, a lamp knocked over or a stray ember from the hearth. Well not all of them thought the best, John knew that some of the towns people suspected that he'd done it. He tried not to let that get to him but he couldn't fathom why anyone would think he'd kill his beloved Mary. The thought sickened him and made him fell guilty. In the back of his mind he felt that by not saving her he had killed her. But that was no accident something did that something evil.
John peered up at the steeple of the church next door. The house of the Lord. Mary had loved to go to church; she had especially loved the music. She knew the words to all the songs and she'd sing them at home. She'd even made up words of her own that she'd sing to the boys. John wanted to know how God could let something so horrible happen to one of his most beautiful creations.
Disgusted John walked back to the house. His eyes turned down to the ground as he stalked back.
Something caught his eye as he got close to the house and made him pause. Is that salt on the ground? he wondered as he looked down at the foundation of the house. He started to kneel down but he heard Sammy cry out and his attention turned back to his boys.
Once He got inside Sammy's crying had been calmed.
John was surprised Sammy had been very hard to calm since the fire, probably because he wanted his mother. As John neared the bedroom he heard something, it was faint humming.
Dean was humming. It was a tune that was familiar to John not that he could remember the words. Mary would have known what song it was, it was one she had sung to the boys. John stopped at the door waiting for something to happen, he didn't know what. He even felt his breath catch in his throat but there was nothing.
The humming ended and everything was quiet. John sighed and went into the room. Dean lay in the bed with a quiet Sammy next to him. Dean's face still had the same sad expression it had before John had left. John knew there was nothing for him to do, he didn't know what to do for Dean and Sammy seemed more content being with Dean then with him.
John left the boys alone.