Chapter 31: Visitors

Paul and I walked hand-in-hand along Boston's Freedom Trail. It was an overcast day in the city and we were enjoying the freedom that the cloud cover provided. As we walked, I shared details of my past life in Boston; I told him all about the childhood memories I had from growing up here.

As we walked, I couldn't help but notice the slightly stiff way he was carrying himself. His hand was firm on mine but there was tension in his shoulders and a tightness around his eyes that I didn't like.

I knew that it was because of me.

He'd warned me that it would take a while for him get over what had happened and I couldn't blame him for it. I'd convinced him that I'd fallen out of love with him and I'd broken his heart in the process.

Despite our hours long lovemaking sessions the previous night, I could tell that he was unsure of himself and us from the way he was holding himself.

As we'd walked, I'd stolen a few glances at his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Every time I'd looked up at him, he'd met my eyes and sent a reassuring smile my way, but I could see the uncertainty nestled deep within his eyes.

I hated that I'd done that to him. I hated that I'd put this uncertainty in his head about our relationship and how I felt about him.

We continued walking and my eye caught the gates of the Forest Hills Cemetery, making my body stiffen slightly. Paul noticed and looked down at me before turning his attention to what I was looking at.

It was where my parents were buried and where an empty grave had been placed for me. I hadn't visited the cemetery in twelve years—a year after my dad had died and four years after my mom's passing. Will and I had made the trip to Boston together because he'd thought it would be good for me to see where my parents had been laid to rest.

Visiting the cemetery with Will had brought up a tonne of emotions that I hadn't been expecting and I wasn't sure if I was prepared to do that again with Paul. It wasn't easy to stand in front of my parents' graves and seeing a spot for me right next to them. All it made me think about how I'd ripped their daughter away from them—I'd allowed them to have the false hope that their oldest daughter would one day come back to them, only to have them die without ever actually knowing what had happened to me.

I knew that I'd had no choice in the matter—revealing myself to them after what had happened to me would be worse for everyone involved. As tempting as it had been to return home when I'd first woken up, I'd known that it was a horrible idea. It wouldn't have done any good to reveal myself to them and, as I later learned, it was against the few laws that vampires had.

Paul squeezed my hand and began to lead me towards the cemetery.

I pulled back slightly from him. "Paul, I don't know…"

"I want to see it," he said gently, somehow understanding why I was so unsettled without me having to tell him.

I took a deep breath and stopped resisting his pull. We walked through the cemetery gates and I led him to where I knew mine and my parents' graves were. As we approached the row of headstones, I felt my stomach tighten anxiously.

Paul squeezed my hand and sent a reassuring smile my way.

We kept walking until we reached the three headstones engraved with my family name. It felt strange to be standing in front of my own grave with Paul. I understood why he'd wanted to see my grave—it was part of my history and he'd always said that he wanted to know everything about me.

Paul stood to my right, completely silent with his eyes trained on my headstone. I was sure it was strange for him to see my name etched into a headstone when I was standing right next to him and not six feet below us.

My eyes, however, were fixated on my parents' names, the image of their faces shooting through my mind.

One thing that surprised me was how well kept the headstones looked—I was sure that the cemetery workers were tasked with maintaining them, but ours almost looked cleaner than the other ones in our row.

I wondered if my sister regularly visited our graves to keep them looking as pristine as possible.

I felt a twinge of remorse—it should be me regularly visiting our graves and maintaining them. I was so reluctant to visit Boston on the off chance that someone would recognize me, yet I couldn't have made the trip every once in a while under the protection of night to ensure that our graves looked okay?

"You okay?" Paul asked gently, squeezing my hand.

I nodded, finding it slightly difficult to speak.

I found myself thinking deeply about my family and my past life. When I'd come here in the past with Will, I'd avoided doing that because I was scared of either of my parents appearing to me.

This time, though, I couldn't help it. I was completely fixated on my parents' names, a rush of emotion coursing through me as memories of them flooded my mind. I'd never allowed myself to think about my family this intensely—I'd always stopped myself from doing so out of the fear of an unannounced appearance from their spirits.

Something about standing here with Paul had switched that anxious part of my brain off, though. Either that, or my mind was in such a fragile state after everything that had happened, that I was just completely unable to control my thoughts about my parents.

I felt the air shift next to me and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing what was coming and putting off facing them.

"Nat?" Paul asked gently, putting his hands on either side of my face.

At the same time Paul said my name, I heard a shocked, "Natalia?" from my left.

I opened my eyes and met Paul's worried ones before gently pulling my face out of his grasp and turning to face what I'd put off for so long.

A tearless sob nearly erupted from my chest as I saw my mother standing next to me. Her eyes widened at me, shock clouding her features. She looked just as I remembered her—she'd aged extremely gracefully despite what I was sure was years of stress over what had happened to her eldest daughter while simultaneously trying to be strong for her other child.

"Hi Mom," I whispered, unable to raise my voice higher than that.

I felt Paul stiffen next to me—he'd had no idea what was happening until he'd heard my hushed words to my mother. I wanted to look back at him—to gauge his reaction to what was happening, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from my mother.

I hadn't seen my mother since before I'd been turned—I'd been too scared to get too close to the house apart from when I'd snuck in to get my mother's ring and I'd waited until no one had been in the house to do it.

"How is this possible?" my mother whispered. She reached out to touch me, but her hand went right through me and I had to bite back another tearless sob. She pulled her hand away from me and stared at it in confusion.

"Do you remember when I was young?" I whispered. "And would have conversations with my grandmother?" She pulled her eyes away from her hand to look at me again, understanding clearing her face slightly. "It…it wasn't just a coping mechanism."

"But how…how are you here?" she asked. "You look the same as you did when…"

"I…" I trailed off. How could I explain what had happened to me? How could I tell her the truth after all these years? "I don't think I can explain it."

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I am. I'm so sorry for what I put you through."

She gave me a watery smile. "All that matters is that you're safe."

"I put you all through so much," I said quietly. "You, Dad, and Daniella."

It felt strange to say my sister's name. I hadn't actually said it in years. Her name felt foreign on my lips, despite spending fourteen years of my life with her.

"We always thought you'd come home," she said. "We never lost hope."

"I wanted to," I said. "More than anything, I wanted to come back to you, but I…I couldn't. Not like this." I couldn't help but motion to my ruby red eyes as I said it—I felt embarrassed that she was seeing the monster I'd become.

"It's okay," she said gently. "We can rest easily knowing that you're safe."

We. A confirmation that my father was with her wherever they were.

"Is Dad…?" I trailed off—what was the end of that sentence? Was he with her wherever we went when we died? Were they together?

If they were together…why hadn't he appeared as well?

Rejection stabbed at me—of course I was happy to see my mother here, but it stung a little bit to know that my father hadn't wanted to see me as well.

"He's okay," she said. "He—"

"Natalia?"

My mother's words were cut off by a voice coming from over her shoulder. I tore my gaze away from my mother's eyes and felt a jolt through my entire body as I met my father's eyes for the first time in over fifty years.

For some reason, he didn't look surprised to see me. It was almost as if he'd expected this.

"I always knew you were alive," he said. "I've been trying to find you."

My heart swelled in my chest at his words. To hear him say that he was actively searching for me in the afterlife when I'd thought that he hadn't even wanted to show up to see me was better than anything I could have imagined. To know that both of my parents had never lost hope for me made my throat tighten slightly—guilt stabbed at me as I thought about how difficult it must have been for them.

I wanted nothing more than to reach out and embrace them—to feel the love from my parents' embrace again but I couldn't. We wouldn't be able to actually make physical contact with each other and that almost hurt more than thinking about their years' of suffering.

"It's okay," my mother said, smiling warmly at me, somehow understanding what I wanted to do without me having to tell her.

"I'm just…I'm so sorry," I repeated. I'd waited to say these words to them for so long—it felt cathartic to finally let it all out. "I'm so sorry for what I put you through."

My father smiled at me. "Like your mother said, we're just happy that you're okay."

I knew our conversation was coming to a close and I felt panic flare in my chest. I wanted to talk to them for hours. "You can always contact me—no matter where I am."

"We know that now," my mother said.

"Nat," Paul said urgently, drawing my attention away from my parents. I tore my gaze away from them and looked back at Paul.

He wasn't looking at me, though—he was looking at the other end of the row of graves. I peeked around his shoulder and felt my stomach drop as I realized what he was looking at.

Approaching mine and my parents' graves was my sister with two young adults in tow, pushing a stroller along the line of graves and getting close to us far too quickly.