self-medicated from the pharmacy, or maybe the damage was so severe that pain wasn’t a part of it, nerves severed. Anyway, he shook his head.
“Well, that’s a blessing,” she said pensively. “He was a good man, and he was strong, not like you, strong in a different way.” The sunset had darkened the room to the point where things were no longer easily visible; in the dim light, Jack could only imagine her face. She was a strong woman, without being tough, but he imagined she looked pained herself, and tired.
“I brought him back with me. You probably shouldn’t see him though,” said Jack.
“I need to. I need to know it’s him.”
“It’s him,” he said, but Jack took her down with a flashlight, and she looked down at her husband and nodded her head when Jack shined it on him, avoiding the legs. He tried to be discreet, but she saw the head wound.
“Did you do that?” she asked.
“Yes. He asked me to, so I did. I would have wanted someone to do that for me too.”
She nodded.
“So, what are you going to do now?” he asked. “You’re welcome to stay with me you know. You’re husband asked me to take care of you.”
“He did?” she asked.
“Yes. It was the last thing he said.”
She lost her control then, crying in deep, gasping bouts of pain-wracked sobs, sinking down into a curled-up ball with her arms wrapped around her legs, and Jack just watched and couldn’t move to help her, because he didn’t feel he knew her well enough yet. But with some timidity, eventually he went to her and gently touched her head, and she leaned it on his stomach and he stroked her hair slowly and softly, sitting down on the grass with her and cradling her head in his arm as he petted it. He would take care of her. He would make a place for them.
The next day Jack was outside, surveying the area when Jill woke up. She came down and stood on the road next to him.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“Just looking at this place, wondering why I was happy staying here. It’s a dump. You made it nicer, thanks, but at its heart, it’s a dump.”
“Well, it kept you safe I guess. And your father was here. People do things for lots of reasons. Bottom line, you just stayed, that’s all.” He nodded his head and made an “mmm” noise.
“You know,” he said, “I could’ve picked anywhere in the world to live, and I lived here.”
“Yep,” she said, lacking anything else to say.
“Yup,” he echoed. He looked around. “Yup,” he said again. He turned his back on it, looking down the street. “Goodbye treehouse and good riddance.”
“Where will we go?” she asked.
He pointed to a spire sticking up above the trees, and as he pointed, his other hand slipped unconsciously into hers. “The Biltmore. It was nice once – big and safe, although they said it was haunted. Lots of land behind it all fenced in. We could grow things, lots of things.”
“You can’t see much of it from here. Do you know what it’s like now?” she asked.
“Not a clue,” he answered. “I visited there once as a plumber. Never stayed there – I couldn’t afford it. I haven’t even gone in that direction since the old days.”
“Now you own the building …,” she said, smiling.
Jack smiled back. “Sure do.” A cool breeze started as a cloud moved in front of the sun, and Jack felt his eyes relax in the shadow, although he hadn’t realized he had been squinting.
“So are we moving in today?”
“Sure. I just have to bury my father first. Over there, next to the fountain.” He pointed to a fountain in the center of a nearby roundabout, surrounded by a narrow strip of garden, a weather vane up top with a pigeon sitting on it.
“That’s a nice place,” she said.
“It’s easy to find. Let’s put your husband there too. It’d be good to have our family there, you know, where we can find them easily.”
“It would be nice to do that, wouldn’t it? Like a memorial park?”
“It would be very human. I need to make that more of a habit, being human.”
“Okay then. What should I do?”
“Hmmm. Well, there are a few boxes around the place, why don’t you find anything you think would be useful, kind of inventory for us.” Jack scratched the top of his head with one finger. “Actually, they’ll be plenty of furniture at the Biltmore, and things in the kitchens, so our stuff doesn’t need to come.” Jack liked using the plural for her and him. Us. Our. “Come to think of it, there might not be much we take.”
“Okay, I’ll see what’s what. Let me make you a lunch, before you start digging.”
They went up to the tree house for one of the last times, and looking around Jack was happy to go. There was an unmistakable air of maleness to the place, and he was happy to see that page turned, happy to have a woman’s touch. He thought of the wedding bands he had picked up at the jewelry store earlier. A wedding set. He smiled. That’d be just about right.
After burying the dead, as night fell, Jack saw the reddening skies as if for the first time. There was a world of difference between ‘disposing’ of bodies and burying your dead. He patted the shovel on the raised mound of earth. He was content to stop for the day, and recognize the work as good.
They set out for the Biltmore, hand in hand, in the darkening twilight, while around them there were no noises other than crickets, gentler cousins of the cicadas. They arrived in the dark, and although Jill was scared, Jack’s keen senses picked up no sign of danger. With the help of the flashlight, they found their way up a few flights of stairs and eventually got to the flat roof of a lower level by going through a door with “Service” written in faded lettering. Shutting the door Jack reconnoitered, found no trouble, and there was nothing left to do but sleep. Had he been alone he would have camped on the roof itself, being used to discomfort, but realizing the girl’s pregnancy might make it difficult for her even if she was inclined to do the same, he set out to bring up deck chairs from the pool area. It took some time, but eventually he dragged two of them up to the roof, and then rummaged through supply closets until he found pillows and blankets. That done, the beds looked rather nice, and Jack hoped it wouldn’t rain. In the morning, he would make a safer place indoors.
Jack was lying next to Jill looking at the stars in the clear night. There were no bugs, only a cool and light breeze. She reached across and took his hand in hers, and they lay side by side looking up at the night. Jack tried to keep his eyes relaxed and not stare at any one piece of sky, hoping to pick up a falling star. He felt perfect.
“This is what I meant,” said Jill. “About God. This is how life works: out of nowhere you get a awful storm, and then just as suddenly it’s calm and perfect, like God’s saying, ‘Why were you worried? I had it covered.’”
Jack didn’t look over at her, but squeezed her hand to acknowledge. He still hadn’t seen a falling star. Everything in the sky was stationary. Well, not stationary. The sky was turning slowly, like the hour hand of a clock. Changing, but you couldn’t see it. Nothing like life. Life changed suddenly, with lightning bolts and thunderstorms, zombies and pregnant women and dead fathers.
“Jill? Listen, I got it. It’s time. Time for what you said about something perfect coming from a storm.” Jack looked over and she had a calm, gentle look on her face as she stared blankly at the sky. He took the ring from his pocket.
Jill was still looking up and didn’t see him get the ring. “What are you talking about?” she said jokingly. “Can’t you relax? Can’t I relax? Let’s just sit here.”
Jack knelt down beside her. She looked at him then, and her eyes widened when she saw what he was doing. “Jill, would you marry me? I know you’ve been through hell, and so have I, only I didn’t know it. I didn’t know I was in hell until you came. Please, I don’t expect things to be normal – but please, marry me?” He held out the ring, knowing it was completely the wrong time, but a good time too.
She
looked down at the ring and he could see her thinking before she put out her hand and covered the ring with it, her dainty hand resting in his large calloused one like a bird in a nest. “Yes,” she said. “I think you’re right. I feel like waiting, but I think we shouldn’t. I loved my husband, Jack. You know that.”
“Yes,” Jack said. “I know you are faithful, and trustworthy, and caring, and kind, and loving. And you remake worlds. At least, you have mine.”
She smiled, and began to take off the ring she still wore from before.
“Jill, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” Jack said.
“How do you expect me to wear yours? Look, we have to find a way. We both buried our pasts. These rings are a part of that.” Saying that, she took off her previous wedding rings and threw them over the side of the building.
“Besides,” she said with a pensive smile, “I have a better memento of my ex-husband.” She patted her belly gently.
Jack began to put both the rings on her, but Jill stopped him. “Ceremony?”
Jack looked confused. “How are we supposed to do that? Where’s the preacher?”
Jill just smiled. “Do you, Jack Phillips, take me to be your lawful wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part?” The words fell on his ears like the words of a prophet, barely remembered words from long ago, they were as true as a