“They said they have everything they need for now. And we have plenty of others helping bring firewood and water.”
“Then what can I—”
She tugged me toward the truck then opened the driver side door. Did she want me to take her somewhere? Slowly I climbed in, watching as she circled around to the passenger side to join me.
Once our doors had shut out the world beyond the truck's cab, she reached across the seat for my hand. “Merry Christmas, Hayden.”
I stared at her, wondering if maybe she was insane after all and I should just kidnap her out of here. She could thank me later. Maybe years later, knowing Tarah’s temper when it finally got riled up high enough. Dragging her away from here like some kind of caveman would definitely tick her off. But if she’d temporarily lost her mind because of the stressful situation or whatever, then taking her out of here could only do her good. Someday she’d see reason.
A long sigh slipped out from her. “Now it’s your turn to say it back,” she added as if she were talking to a three year old.
I gritted my teeth, calculating if I could get the truck moving fast enough to prevent her from jumping out. No, that would never work unless she was tied to the seat. The snow would slow us down long enough for her to realize what I was doing and dive out the door.
“What good is it to celebrate Christmas?” I muttered. “Do you think those sick people in there care that it’s Christmas while they’re dying?” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the infirmary.
“They need the rest of us to be strong and brave for them, Hayden.”
But even in the fantasy, the hero always had to actually do battle with the dragon. Simply being brave and wishing it away never worked.
“You know, my parents are Methodists,” she continued, each word slow and measured. “But they didn’t force me to share their beliefs. They let me check out other religions on my own. So I got to research and try out several, and I learned some pretty interesting things along the way. For instance, did you know Christmas Day isn’t just a Christian holiday? Before the development of Christianity, Christmas Day was celebrated on the winter solstice by pagans as the time of year when the long, dark nights would begin to grow shorter and the light would return.”
She lifted my hand to her cheek, closed her eyes, and kissed my knuckles. And in that act, I finally saw the smallest hint of desperation hidden within her. “Fear comes with the dark. But the dark always ends eventually. We just have to hold out and stay strong until it does.”
I stared at her for a long time. Finally I managed to choke out, “Merry Christmas, Tarah."
She smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”
Wordlessly I handed her present to her.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she eased the paper off, her eyes widening. Then she sighed, her hands caressing the red leather covered journals for a moment before she lifted the lid off the small box on top of the stack. The early morning light, just peeking over the tops of the treeline, caught the rhinestones embedded in the sides of the short pink pen as she lifted it out, making it sparkle brilliantly.
“My very own wand,” she sighed, and if I hadn’t been so terrified of losing her, I might have still known how to smile. “So now I can weave a spell with words.” She gave it a silly little swish in the air.
“Thank you, Hayden.” She leaned around the Christmas tree, and I kissed her. But it was a different kind of kiss this time. I had to hold myself still, my whole body shaking with the effort not to grab her and beg her to leave this place for her own safety, to see reason.
I could only hope that eventually she’d change her mind, before it was too late.
So I stayed quiet, letting her have her peace and happiness while she could. After awhile, she opened one of the journals, her fingertips tracing over the empty lines waiting to be filled, the rasp of that dry caress filling the silent cab with a wordless plea to be left alone so she could start writing.
“Have fun,” I murmured, forcing a smile for her sake. “Come join me later if you want to.”
I got out of the truck, pausing for a minute, letting the cold slap the frustration away and kick start my mind again. Insane or not, this was where Tarah was determined to stay. Before we’d come here, back when I had first tried to describe Tarah to my grandmother, I had admired Tarah’s unbreakable will. Since then, it had become my biggest enemy.
I only had two choices now. I could try to break the very part of Tarah that I had once admired the most and take her out of here, probably kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs, so that she could hate me for weeks, months, maybe years to come. And in the process risk killing whatever this fragile thing was between us.
Or I could let her stay here while I did whatever I could to keep her as safe as possible and hope, as she wanted me to, that eventually the virus would run its course and die out or be cured somehow.
I walked over to the tiny house’s trailer with its promise of a home outlined in posts and beams and subflooring. How long might it take to finish if I focused on it more, worked faster, slept a little less each night?
For now at least, I couldn’t do much to help the other members of this village. But I could try to do something to protect Tarah, even if I couldn’t take her away from here completely.
And so I went back to work on the tiny house. Maybe if I could get it finished in time, it would give us both somewhere separate to eat and sleep away from the others, reducing our risk of getting sick. It was my only hope of protecting Tarah now.
CHAPTER 21
Tarah got out of the truck a while later to help me work on the tiny house kit. She stopped again a few hours later for a late lunch, but I wasn’t hungry, so she went inside one of the other houses alone to eat.
She must have told everyone about Bud’s death, because no one ever came to ask me about it. She did come back later with a sandwich and a mug of coffee, which she left on top of the trailer’s wheel well for me. But instead of staying, she hurried back to the infirmary to see if she could help the healers.
I doubted I would be much fun to hang out with for awhile anyways.
Later that evening, she came back with another sandwich and a cup of tea. I still wasn’t hungry, worry churning in my stomach and making me nauseous. But she wouldn’t leave till I ate. Silently I stuffed down the food in the biggest bites and gulps I could manage.