Ander - Part 4: Subchapter 36
36
"- all alone in this giant house?" he asked, stepping inside.
"Oh, it's not so bad," she said and closed the door behind him. "How are your children doing? Those poor darlings, I can't even imagine."
"They're strong. Amazingly strong. Sometimes I think they're the ones taking care of me."
"Hm."
Awkward silence. They always sprang up these days no matter who he was talking to. It felt like most Foxes were afraid the wrong word at the wrong time might shatter him like a piece of shale, and the effect was doubled when the one he was speaking to was in the same boat. He could see it in her eyes: she was tired, probably even more tired than he was. He felt bad for what he was planning to do, but Emily wouldn't rest easy in his heart until he knew the truth.
"Would you like some tea?" Laura asked. "I was just making some for myself."
"That would be lovely, thank you."
"Please, make yourself at home."
James nodded and smiled, but on the inside he was getting so awfully sick and tired of all these polite pleasantries. Even the guys he worked with, who would normally swear up a storm over the smallest little things, now talked to him like he was an old lady.
Laura slowly made her way to the kitchen and James sat down to wait. His eye wandered around the room and came to a screeching halt (like it always did) at the ugly crack in their floor. As a carpenter, he couldn't stand seeing such a lovely birchwood floor marred by such a hideous crack, like someone had smashed it with a hammer. He's offered to fix it for her on numerous occasions, but she always refused. He even said he'd do it for free, but for some unfathomable reason she insisted on keeping that nasty crack right where it was. It annoyed him greatly, but he didn't see the point in arguing. And besides, that ugly crack was no longer the worst thing in this otherwise beautiful home.
His eyes slowly travelled towards the stairs, flatout refusing to turn away, no matter how badly he wanted them to. They drifted up the banister (also birch) and came back down again, pausing at every step along the way.
There were twenty of them.
James shook his head, suddenly angry at himself. Everyone says they fell down the stairs, those stairs right there, but he knew it wasn't true, so there was no point in feeling so disturbed whenever he looked at them. Emily told him herself it was just a story, that Laura had lied to everyone, but still...
His eyes drifted back to those stairs, each step slightly bowed in the middle by the comings and goings of all the generations of Foxes that had lived in this old house, and his imagination conjured up a dread image of his darling Emily tumbling down and down, her perfect head striking each and every one of those twenty steps...
You'll take good care of the kids, won't you...?
"Here you go."
James jumped in his seat, but it was only Laura, holding a big tray of tea, biscuits, milk, and a jar of that godawful jam she was so proud of. "Oh, thank you," he said.
"You're welcome." She put the tray down on the table and sat in the chair opposite, the one next to that horrid crack.
James took a long sip of tea, drinking slowly so he could buy himself some time to think up a way to steer this conversation in the right direction, but he needn't have bothered. It was Laura who brought it up first.
"I do miss her," she said, looking down at the cup in her hands, at the blue floral pattern twisting around the brim. "It was always such a nice surprise when she stopped by."
James nodded. "She did that a lot. Always 'stopping by' everywhere."
"Hm." She started to raise the cup to her lips.
"I know you lied."
The cup froze halfway, but Laura did not lose her composure. "Lied? About what?"
"About what happened to my wife."
She put her tea down on the table, squared her shoulders, and folded her hands in her lap, one on top of the other. "James, I do not know why you would say such a horrible thing. Why would I lie about something like that? I loved Emily and I loved my husband, and to have you come in here and -"
"She told me, Laura. She was still... aware, for a little while."
Her whole demeanor changed then. Her face scrunched up, like she was on the verge of tears and she screamed at him: "Then what are you doing here if you know!? Have you come to yell and shout!? Have you come to break my things? Have you come to strike me down? It wasn't my fault, James! For too long I've believed everything was my fault, just like he always said, but it was Emily who convinced me otherwise! She's the one who made me feel like I was worth something!"
James didn't understand half of what she was raving about, but he couldn't keep from noticing how her hands were still folded neatly in her lap, even when she was on the brink of exploding, as though they were locked in place with invisible shackles.
"I didn't come here to do any of those things," he said and carefully placed his tea next to Laura's. "I only want to know the truth. I... I need to know what really happened to Emily, and if you really did loved her like you say you did, then surely you can grant me this much?"
"You...?" She looked so confused now. "What did Emily tell you?"
James hesitated. The truth was, Emily barely told him anything. If Laura had something to hide, then admitting it might only lock away the truth forever. But if he lied and said that Emily had told him everything, then what point was there in demanding a truth he already knew? James never had much of a head for complicated things, so he did what he always did. He told the truth. Partly because he was terrible at lying, but mostly because he believed Laura when she said she really did love Emily.
"She asked if you were okay," he said. "At first I thought it was just general concern, but it soon became clear she was fearing for your life. She seemed to think that Markus was going to kill you." James waited to see how she would react to such a claim, but if she was angry over the slight at her late husband, she didn't show it at all - just kept looking at that crack in the floor, that nasty, black crack running through the light brown grain.
"Laura?"
She looked up, and that was the first time James really noticed how much older she had become over the past few days. Her fur was graying around her ears and tail, and her cheeks were taking on the guant appearance of one who hasn't been eating right. Where there once was a vixen who looked surprisingly good for her age, there was now only an old Fox, doomed to finish out her winter years all alone, save for the occasional visits from her daughter and grandson. Even her eyes looked... old.
"I don't think he would have killed me," she said, going back to staring at the crack in the floor. "But... no. No, she was probably right. He wouldn't have done it on purpose. I don't think he's ever truly hurt me on purpose, but eventually, yes. Maybe he would have ended up killing me. But... he never did it on purpose, I believe that. Never on purpose. Not like me..."
She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes with it, the same handkerchief she had with her at the funeral and the same handkerchief she's apparently been carrying around since the dawn of time, the light blue handkerchief with her name sewn into the corner in dark blue thread.
"Laura. Please tell me what really happened that day. I need to know."
She shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes. "No, I don't want to. Please don't make me."
"Laura. I watched my wife die. I held her hand and she died right in front of me. You went through the same thing. You know what it's like."
"No! It's not the same! You and Emily... You're not the one who... No, please leave. I apologize for being so rude, but I can't do this!"
"Markus really did kill Emily, didn't he?"
She stared at him in horror, her eyes glistening, her mouth slightly open. If she asked him to leave one more time, he would go. He had no intention of forcing himself on an old lady. All the answers in the world could never bring Emily back, nor could they bring vengeance upon the one who took her away, but he would come back for those answers regardless. He didn't care if it took a week or a year. He would find those answers because not knowing what happened to the love of his life would slowly drive him insane, and how was he supposed to keep his promises then?
Laura wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, folded it up, and put it back in her pocket. Her breath hitched, just once, and then she was back to normal, like nothing had happened. She must be an old pro at supressing emotions. He certainly couldn't squash his feelings like that, and he hoped it would never reach the point where he felt he had to.
"James," she said, not looking at him. "I did a very bad thing."
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