Genesis Lost - Books 1 - 6, page 85
I tripped over the self-pity tied around my ankles and let myself fall forward, barely slamming my palms onto the table, holding me up, because real men didn’t crouch. Neither did they cry, but that message went entirely lost inside my chest, and stray, salty droplets soaked the inked paper.
I expected the walls of the longhouse to close in on me any second now, crack and crumble, burying me in a pile of plaster and eternal misery. They didn’t.
Instead, they breathed and expanded, shrinking me with each stuttered breath I took. The longhouse seemed bigger now than ever before. The chieftain it contained was never smaller.
What the hell did you do, Rowan?
I sent my wife away, that’s what. The coward inside of me kept repeating it was for her own good, but whom was I kidding? It was better for myself, the jerk who would rather ruin a family than face his shortcomings.
Shit! My chest turned into a pressure-chamber, flattening my lungs and sending a stabbing pain down my arm. How young can you get a heart attack?
Another stab down my arm. The adrenaline pumped through my veins in double-time. Fuck. I had a heart attack.
I pushed myself off the table, ripping half the maps to the ground. My legs stumbled across the longhouse and out the door. I ignored the curious eyes and concerned looks. Two clansmen walked up to me, their distorted voices asking if I needed help.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, wiped the sweat beads off my forehead with the back of my hand, and flung my arm onto my aching chest.
Wet snow clung to my boots and pants like ankle weights, turning the stroll over to Max’s cabin into the hike of my life. That was it. Each step turned me weaker from my knees down, threatening to sink me into the depth of winter.
I’d go down in history as chieftain Rowan. Maker of laws. Breaker of hearts. Died of hypothermia following a heart attack aged thirty-nine, because he wasn’t man enough to father children, and certainly not man enough to admit it to the woman he loved.
What felt like three ice-ages later, I was surprisingly still alive, banging my fists against the rigid door of my sister’s cabin.
Autumn ripped the door open, her hands falling onto her chest. “What happened? What the hell is going on? Are you… are you injured?”
“I’m having a heart attack,” I said calmly, my voice making me rest assured I had made peace with the fact death was imminent.
“Max,” Autumn shouted. “Max! Hurry! Rowan got hurt, or injured or… something’s going on with him.”
Max opened the door wide. “What happened? Where’s the wound?”
“He said he has a heart attack!”
“A what?” Max flung my arm across his shoulder and led me over to the stairs. “Why didn’t you go to Hazel at the clinic?”
“I’m dying, Max.” I let myself drop onto the staircase, the un-sanded edges rubbing against my butt crack and thighs. “Max, it’s a heart attack. I can feel it right here in my chest… like… I can’t breathe. And pain here… my arm… and…”
“Pain where?” he asked, pressing into my chest. “Here?”
“Other side.”
“I see.” He squeezed my fingers. “Does that tingle?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Should I get Hazel?” Autumn asked, her eyes rimmed with fear.
Max held his hand inches from my nose and snapped his fingers. “I want you to count each time I snap, ok?”
“Uh-huh.”
Snap. “One.”
Snap. “Two.”
Snap. “Um… three.”
Snap. “Fouuur.”
Snap. “Fiiive.”
Max placed his hand onto my slowing chest. “Better? Is the pain less now than when you got here?”
“Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, it’s less, but it’s still there. Right here.” I lifted my sweater and pointed between two ribs. “You think I’ll need one of those difibrators?”
“Defibrillator,” he said with a smile sitting on the edge of his mouth. “And no, you won’t need one of those because you don’t have a heart attack.”
My chest expanded wider at my next breath. “I’m not dying?”
“Are you sure, baby?” Autumn asked, her hand tugging on Max’s arm. “Maybe Hazel should check —”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You’re not dying today, Rowan. It was a panic attack.”
“A panic…” my voice trailed off, making room for my ears to listen to the calmed da-dum… da-dum… da-dum of my heart. The stabbing pain along my arm faded, but the pressure in my chest stayed like three-day-old leftovers, refusing to go away.
Autumn squeezed herself between me and the wall, sat down and placed her hand onto my shoulder. She looked up at Max. “Why on earth would he get a panic attack?”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” Max said, the scorn in his voice spread on thick. “Maybe because he broke up with Darya on a whim?”
“It’s better that way,” I lied. Mostly to myself, because Max arched his brows into a I’m-not-buying-it kinda look.
“Suuure.” Max pouted his lips and dragged the word into a mind-shattering echo. “When did you figure out it’s better like this? On your three-minute walk from my lab to your longhouse? Or did you actually allow yourself another five to make this life-changing decision?”
“You’re unfair,” Autumn said. “He’s just trying to protect his family and the Clan. You got no clue how quickly things can take a turn around here. Do you have any idea how many chieftains we had since I was a kid? Thirteen. Thirteen chieftains, Max.”
“And how many of them kept up trade agreements with the Districts for over a year?” he asked. “How many cut the numbers of rapes and assaults down close to zero? How many of them freed five people from the council’s oppression?”
“Exactly, Max!” Autumn threw her hands up, building a defense where I couldn’t. “My brother is an amazing chieftain. If he stayed with Darya, he would put it all at risk.”
“You know what.” Max walked up to us and placed one foot on the first step of the stairs, leaning in close to me. “The Rowan I know would say ‘fuck the risk’. Fuck the Clan. Fuck those assholes who think they can do better than you. And he sure as hell won’t go hide under a rock just because he can’t make babies.”
My breath stopped inside my chest, my lungs crippled by his words. A flash of heat rushed into my cheeks, amplified by the way my sister dropped her gaze to the banister. He had said it out loud.
“Don’t, Max,” Autumn begged, a flush creeping up from her earlobes.
“Why not?” Max asked. “What has changed, now that I said it? He is still the same great chieftain, the same amazing dad, and the same caring husband.”
“It changes the way our people see him.”
“Well, then you’re fucking hypocrites.”
A knot of doubt formed in my throat.
“What?” Autumn asked.
“You heard me,” Max said. “When I came here, you guys told me about how the Districts are wrong to exclude those who aren’t perfect. And now you’re telling me the fact that Rowan isn’t perfect changes the way they see him?”
The narrow staircase turned into the funeral home of silence. Autumn clasped her knees tightly together, rocking herself back and forth, trying hard not to look at me. Siblings shouldn’t have to hear about each other’s fertility issues. Hell, they shouldn’t even know the sibling had a sexual life at all.
Max gave a heavy sigh and sagged against the lime-washed brick wall beside him. “You didn’t tell her. Did you?”
The way he had asked left no room for doubts — he knew full well I didn’t.
“She shouldn’t have to deal with this crap,” I said. “The way the Clan is rallying against her is bad enough already. No need to put herself through the danger for a guy like me.”
“You mean the guy she loves?” Max’s gaze wandered to the door across the staircase, eyes squinted as if his ears had picked up on a noise. Then he crossed one leg behind the other and shook his head. “That was her decision to make, don’t you think?”
Metal clanked against something, the sound coming muffled from somewhere within the house. A lid dancing on a steaming pot, perhaps.
“It’s too late now anyway,” Autumn said. “What’s done is done, and there’s no going back from it.”
“We should tell him,” Max said into the room, but I knew we meant them, and him meant me. They knew something I didn’t, and the roaring, churning mess forming at the bottom of my stomach told me I wouldn’t like it.
“Tell me what?”
I glanced at my sister. She zipped up her sweater and crossed her arms in front of her chest, inching herself away from me. “We promised her.”
“No,” Max said and wiggled his finger in front of his face. “You promised. I asked both of you to step on the breaks and talk it out. I told you it’s a stupid idea. Go on. You tell your brother!”
“For heaven’s sake, tell me what?” I shouted.
Another clank of metal against something. Not something. Wood. And not just any metal. Bells. My heart sunk so low, I wasn’t sure I could ever get it back into my chest. Max pointed at the door across.
I pushed myself up, almost slipped when I stumbled down two steps, and slowly pushed the door handle down. The familiar scent of baby powder greeted me first, followed by a cranky whine.
“Why is Rose still here?” I asked and turned around, searching my sister’s pale face for an answer. “Is Darya still here, too? You’re not telling me she didn’t come yet, right?”
Autumn sunk her head. “She was here. But she’s gone now.”
“Gone where?” I asked, the familiar knot inside my throat swelling from doubt to a complete loss of faith. A certain familiarity loomed over this moment, forcing me face-to-face with an ugly past. She didn’t leave, did she? No, she would never. Not without…
“She left a note next to the crib,” Autumn whispered. “I swear, Rowan, I just didn’t want to see you hurt again. And neither did she.”
“So you convinced her to leave her own daughter behind?” My voice could neither hide the hurt nor the hate for my sister at that moment. “This isn’t true. Why on earth would… I can’t believe this… I… shit…”
The pressure inside my chest returned with such force, it sat me right down on my ass. I pressed my back against the wall, slid down to the floor with a whomp, and flung my hand onto my heart.
“Rowan!” Autumn sprung up, but Max held up his palm and gestured her to stay where she was.
He hurried to my side and once more kneeled down next to me. “You need to calm yourself down. Nothing but another panic attack. Let’s do the counting thing again. One —”
“Fuck counting.” I rolled myself onto all fours like a fat hog bound to slaughter. “My wife carried that child closer to her heart than anyone ever could. And you… where is she? Where is Darya? At my cabin?”
Please say yes, nod, anything.
My sister pressed her lips tightly together, then opened and closed them like a fish on land. In the end, she pointed at the room where Rose grew increasingly fussy and mumbled, “If you would just read the note she left you. It’ll explain everything. She wanted it this way. I swear she did.”
“To make up for a mistake in the past she wasn’t even responsible for!” I shouted, pushing Rose over the edge and into a full-blown frenzy.
I worked my heavy body up on two feet and stepped into the room once more, gliding my hand along the half-log wall for stability.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Rose and lifted her from the crib, another one standing empty beside it. “Did daddy scare you? We’ll get you a small bottle ready, and then we have to find mommy.”
Max came and picked up the note which leaned against the foot of the crib and held it in front of my face. “She told us she would go —”
“I know where she went.” I walked away from Max and the envelope in his hand, its corners sharp enough to puncture whatever was left of my heart. “You think I’m stupid? East and west aren’t an option. We all know how south worked out for her the last time she ran away. I’ll go north.”
Max let his head fall back and released a breath of relief, but Autumn just shook her head.
“Why are you so dead-set on getting her out of the way?” I asked her. “She’s family, for god’s sake.”
“She might be family, but she left my brother and broke his heart, and I could never forgive her that.”
I pressed Rose closer against me and stroked my little finger across her lips. She chomped down on it like a teething puppy, letting out little fusses of pain and relief at the same time.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I asked, an odd kind of warmth filling my chest cavity and expanding my lungs. “I am the one who needs forgiveness here. She might have run away, but she did it because I was a coward, and I failed her.”
She looked at me from wide eyes. “Failed her because you couldn’t give her a child? But that’s not your fault.”
“No.” The warmth spread from my core into my limbs, driving out the shame, the humiliation, the damn disgrace. “I failed her because I can’t father children, and I was too scared to acknowledge the truth. Instead of facing it together with her, I looked the other way and pretended there wasn’t an issue. She left because I let her carry the entire weight of it, and relied on her strength because I was a coward.”
Max gave me a pat on the back, pride lining the upward curve of his mouth. Chances were he wanted to say he was proud of me. He didn’t. Probably knew I’d tell him to shut the fuck up.
“She said she’d take one of the snowmobiles,” Autumn said, her body sunken into or perhaps almost absorbed by the stairs.
I stared down at Rose, her face a mix of Darya and something strange that had grown so heartwarmingly familiar to me. “Let’s hope she took the broken one.”
Twenty-Six
Darya
Gray-blue smoke pushed through every single gap and hole of the snowmobile, and the smell of burnt oil and rubber nauseated me.
The cold sneaked through my clothes and prickled my skin, but it still couldn’t measure up to the helplessness which pumped through my veins. I had to get out of here before Rowan found me — and definitely before I changed my mind.
I leaned over and opened the flap, pulling out a soup of wet snow and chunks of ice. Not that I knew much about these machines, but my guts told me this was beyond my modest mechanic skills. In short: I was stranded and screwed.
The sky had turned from an airy blue to a depressing gray once more, a deep rumble coming from the mountain range to the north-west. Turning around had never sounded more convincing.
But I couldn’t.
Pain clenched my heart.
Ignore it. This was better for everyone involved, especially for Rose. There was no place safer in this world than with Rowan.
I worked my gloved hand deep into the flap once more; the heat emanating from the overworked engine boiling whatever moisture had seeped through the worn fabric.
A voice came from behind the snowmobile, the baritone of it way too familiar to keep me from freezing in place. “On the run again?”
I let my eyes wander upward, higher, higher, inching a broad, dark figure into view. Black Thermo pants. Jacket unzipped. Broad shoulders. A baby dangling from them in a flower-print baby carrier.
My heart did a Yo-Yo, repeatedly dropping into the depth of my stomach then clanking against the back of my throat.
“The flap broke for good. Not taking in enough snow to cool the engine.”
Did I really just say that? The flap broke?
Awkward small talk didn’t even begin to cover it…
“Yeah, I know,” Rowan said but remained rooted into the white ground. “There ain’t no fixing that. But to be honest, we hoped you took the broken one.”
“You did?”
Rose tossed and turned her head, her view toward my voice obstructed by pink and red flowers. Seeing her again sucked the air out of my lungs, reminding me of what an empty shell I was for the one hour she wasn’t part of my life.
Rowan fumbled a large, orange backpack off his body and lowered it onto the seat of the snowmobile. “Not sure if I got everything, but it has a good amount of diapers. Bottles. Her warmer. Things she likes. You know… her favorite Binky, the elephant blanket, the… uh…”
His voice trailed off. He shoved and pouted his lips around his face as if he had to chew whatever he wanted to say down to manageable chunks.
“I don’t understand,” I said, still cowering behind the snowmobile, hiding behind the hood.
“Look…” He unbuckled the safety strap of the carrier from his hip, slipped one arm through the shoulder piece, and fumbled Rose out. “It doesn’t matter how much I love her or that I seem to be a natural at this daddy thing. She belongs with her mother.”
“But the people —”
“Fuck the people,” he said, his eyes focused on Rose’s leg which got stuck in one strap. “If they got a problem with it, they can come take it up with me. I never wanted to be a chieftain, anyway.”
“You’re a good one.”
“Maybe.” He freed Rose’s foot and walked over to me, each of his quick steps synchronized with a beat of my heart. He kneeled down next to me and sat Rose on his lap, his eyes locking with mine. “I’d choose a life with you and Rose over being a chieftain ten times over.”
“But… but you are chieftain.”
His gaze wandered across the snow for a moment before coming back to me. “Yeah. I don’t think the founders put in a back-out clause. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Rose has to go with her mom.”
“You love her,” I stammered.
“So much, you got no idea.” His steel-gray eyes filled with the tears he held back. He ripped a glove off his hand and let the back of his hand run across my cheek. “But I also love you, and there’s no way I could ever separate you from your child.”
Gravity pulled me closer to the ground.
