Ander - Part 5: Subchapter 71
71
Impossible. There was no way it could be true, and yet there was no mistaking that voice. It was the same one he had listened to his entire life, telling him to clean his room and feed the chickens and haul water from the well, the same voice that had taught him how to hold a hammer and drive a nail home with a single strike, the same voice that had told him that he loved him time and time again, and the same voice that had asked him to take good care of his little brother and sister. It was the voice of -
"Daddy?" Hearing Valery say that word out loud made it even more real. It didn't matter how impossible it was, nothing could make Valery go from outright terror to mind-numbing happiness so quickly unless it really was their father at the other end of the tunnel. She squirmed free of Luke's frozen grip and started to wriggle her way down the log like a caterpillar. "Daddy!"
"Kids!"
That was what finally got them moving. Luke and Tim scrambled after their little sister, snuffling back tears, happiness and relief and fear all mixed together. After the warmth they had shared inside the confines of what amounted to a rounded coffin, the icy breeze was like a punch to the face, but none of them cared about that, because, in that moment, seeing their father kneeling in the snow with his arms open wide was worth more than all the summer days that would ever shine upon the earth.
"Daddy!" Valery threw herself into his waiting arms, wailing hysterically. "Daddy! Daddy!"
Dad grabbed her and kissed the top of her head. "Valery, my sweet little girl!" She nuzzled against him and he rested his cheek on top of her head, tears falling from his eyes in the pale moonlight. "My sweet little girl..."
Tim went next, falling in right beside his sister. They fit together inside Dad's embrace like a pair of puzzle pieces. "Dad..." His voice was small and muffled. "Dad..."
"Timothy, thank the gods you're all right!"
Luke stared at them, feeling numb right down to his soul. On some level, he knew he must be looking at a miracle. "Dad?" he said, still unable to believe it.
He looked up, and the moment their eyes met, Luke knew without a shadow of a doubt that this couldn't be an illusion. "Luke," he said. "Get over here."
"Dad!" Luke couldn't hold back anymore. He threw himself into his father's embrace, right between his little brother and sister, and wept into his chest, feeling like a small child who had just woken up from a terrible nightmare. Everything he had fought so hard to supress; his fear, his anxiety, his overwhelming sense of responsibility, it all burst out of him. He wasn't even ashamed to show his tears in front of his siblings. He was a boy who had lost his father, and by a miracle unknown, had gotten him back.
"Thank the gods you're all right," Dad said and squeezed them all tight. "Thank the gods..."
"Daddeee!" Valery wailed. She was crying with such intensity it was a wonder she could still speak at all. "I love you, Daddy! I love you so much! I was so scared!"
"I love you too, girl," Dad said. "I love all three of you more than you can ever know. Don't worry, I'm here now. Everything is going to be all right."
The feeling of a pair of strong arms around you, keeping you safe, of family brought together again, it was a special kind of warmth that not even the coldest, darkest of nights could steal away.
"D-Dad..." Luke was having trouble forcing the words out between his hitching sobs, but this was important. He had to get it out right now. "My promise... I promised I'd take good care of them. You asked me... You said to take good care of them, and I tried my best, Dad. I tried so hard..."
"And you did a great job, Luke. You did it perfectly. I am so proud. You don't have to worry about it anymore. Consider your oath fulfilled. Taking care of you kids is my job."
"I thought..." Luke held on to him for dear life, as if he might disappear at any second, leaving them all alone again, surrounded by snow and shadow. "Dad... I thought you were dead!"
"I thought so, too, kiddo. But I guess I'm not done yet."
"How, Dad? I saw you get... hurt. Banno, he took the poker and he -" Luke reached up to touch the spot over his father's heart, the spot he saw that wicked tooth of metal sink into, and Dad jerked back with a wince.
"Careful, son," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not... I'm not doing so well."
There was something between them, something warm and wet that was not tears. Luke pulled back, confused. There was something terribly wrong here, but it was so dark and his vision was so blurry from all the crying he could barely see anything. He wiped his eyes, and that was when he noticed the bitter stink of iron on his fingers. He blinked, staring down at the dark splashes of blood across his hands. "Dad?" There was even more on his father's chest, right over his heart. The edge was white with frost and the centre gleamed in the moonlight. "Dad, you're hurt!"
Tim and Valery pulled back, fearing their overzealous hugs might have done more harm than good, but Dad gave them each a warm smile anyway, in spite of the huge amount of pain he must still be in. "It's not as bad as it would have been," he said.
"But how!? Dad, we saw Banno kill you! He took that poker and he shoved it right into your chest!"
"That he did. And it hurt like hell, too."
"So how are you still alive!?"
Dad smiled. It was a tired smile. A pained smile. The smile of a Fox who had gone through much, and still had a ways to go. "I had a little help."
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