Chapter 7: Night Walks and New Fears

It was only later I realized Natalie hung lanterns everywhere because she was afraid of the dark.

After the wedding, she didn’t quit working with her dad. Turns out her woodworking wasn’t about making little trinkets—she was building bows and crossbows for the National Guard.

The work was tough; she often came home late.

The housekeeper hinted that now she was married, she shouldn’t be out so much.

But I didn’t care.

She could do whatever she wanted—never needed to change for anyone.

One night, she was out especially late. I got worried and waited at the study door for two hours before I finally saw her running up the drive, clutching her backpack.

When I called her name, she relaxed and ran straight into my arms.

My legs were useless; I could only hold her with my arms.

With her head buried in my chest, I gently patted her back. "Why are you running?"

"Why aren’t you asleep yet?"

She dodged my question, changing the subject.

"Couldn’t sleep, just needed some air."

"Then I’ll keep you company."

Quick as ever, she pushed my wheelchair toward her side of the house.

In the end, who was keeping whom company?

I didn’t call her out, just let her push me around.

Porch lights blinked on across the street, and somewhere a screen door slammed. The world felt quiet, safe, like a Friday night in July. Early summer, the scent of flowers drifting on the air, just the two of us in the quiet yard.

We moved through scattered porch lights, our shadows shifting and changing, like something out of a dream.

Crickets chirped under the porch, and a distant dog barked, as if the world was settling down just for us.

"How was your day?"

Maybe I was crazy to ask.

But she didn’t think it was weird at all, just started talking. "Ugh, don’t ask. As soon as I went out, my favorite lemon bars were sold out, I argued with the guys at the Guard armory, and then my Uber driver wouldn’t shut up about how his cousin saw Bigfoot behind the Piggly Wiggly..."

She rambled on behind me, and I listened quietly, wishing this walk would never end.

They were right—I just wanted more time with her.

I really did have selfish thoughts.

People are never satisfied.

At first, I just wanted to watch her from afar. Now I want to talk to her.

...

Anyway, she’s my wife now. In what time I have left, I want to let myself hope, just this once.

After that night, I started waiting for her to come home—sometimes at the study door, sometimes at the front gate, sometimes with lemon bars, sometimes with a warm jacket.

Then waiting for her to appear at the end of the long driveway.

This long, slow waiting felt as sweet as honey—probably because the person you’re waiting for is worth it.

But I also knew, someone like me shouldn’t hope for too much, or the fall would hurt even more.

The glow of the porch light always seemed a little warmer when I knew she’d be home soon.

One day, I waited and waited, but she didn’t come home. I knew something was wrong and sent my guys out to look for her.

But they said she’d been taken to the White House.

Right then, my blood ran cold.

I already have nothing, and want nothing—why does he still have to take away the last bit of hope I have?

As dusk settled outside the window, I stared at the empty lane, gripping the arms of my wheelchair, and felt the old ghosts coming for me again. But this time, I wasn’t sure I could fight them off alone.