Constance lifted her hand to Scarlett’s back, reaching around William to hold them both. “I’m okay,” she assured her sister. “Is William…”
“He seems okay,” Scarlett replied, her gaze sweeping over William and Constance. The cold had returned, and her head swam as though she were underwater.
“Is it over?” Constance asked, glancing at the destruction surrounding them.
“I think so,” Scarlett answered, noting the lack of sirens.
“Thank God.” Constance hugged her sister once more before drawing back, stricken. The look in her eyes raised the hairs on the back of Scarlett’s neck.
“What is it?” she asked as Constance gawked at her blood-soaked hand. Moving William along her hip, Scarlett wiped at the blood with a somewhat clean patch of her dress. Air gushed from her lungs in relief. Lucky. They’d been so lucky today. “It’s all right,” she assured her sister with a shaky smile. “It’s not yours.”
Constance’s eyes flared as her gaze swept down Scarlett’s torso. “It’s yours,” she whispered.
As if Constance’s words triggered Scarlett’s body, shattering the rallying defenses of shock, agony ripped through her back, and searing pain exploded in her ribs. Scarlett gasped as it overtook her, her eyes sweeping down the spreading bloodstain across her blue plaid dress—the same one she’d worn for that first date with Jameson.
It all made sense—the cold, the pain, the lightheadedness. She was losing blood. Her balance gave way, and she collapsed on her side, barely managing to shelter William’s head from hitting the pavement.
“Scarlett!” Constance yelled, but the sound struggled to cut through the fog in her head.
Instead, she focused on her son.
“I love you more than all the stars in the sky,” she whispered to William, who had stopped crying and lay on her arm, staring at her with eyes the same shade as her own. “My William.”
In that moment of chaos and shrieking sirens, it all became so clear, as if she could see the threads of fate that had woven this tapestry. Leaving home. Serving beside her sister. Meeting Jameson on that dusty road. Falling head over heels in love. It wasn’t their path in jeopardy—that was already set. Only William’s was undecided.
“It was all for you, William,” she whispered, her throat clogging, forcing a gurgle. “You are so loved. Never doubt that.”
Constance hovered above them, her mouth agape as she studied Scarlett’s back. Her lower lip trembled as she kneeled closer. “You have to get up. We have to get you to hospital!”
“I’m all right.” Scarlett smiled as the pain faded once more. “You have to go,” she managed to say through wet, gasping breaths.
“I’m not going anywhere!” The panic on Constance’s face tore at Scarlett’s heart like nothing else could. This was something she couldn’t save Constance from. She couldn’t even save herself.
“Yes, you are.” She shifted her gaze back to William. “He needs to learn to camp,” she said without looking away from his face—Jameson’s face. “And to fish, and to fly.” That was what Jameson had wanted. For their son to grow up safe from the bombs that had brought this exact moment.
“And you can teach him all of that,” Constance cried. “But we have to get you to hospital. Hear the sirens? They’re nearly here.”
“I wanted more time with you,” she said to William, each word harder than the last. “We both did.”
“Scarlett, listen to me!” Constance shrieked.
“No, you listen,” Scarlett said before a cough wracked her body, blood bubbling past her lips. She managed a waterlogged breath and locked her eyes on her sister. “You swore you’d protect him.”
“With my life,” Constance repeated the vow.
“Get him out of here,” Scarlett ordered, mustering all of her strength. “Take him to Vernon.”
Constance’s eyes flared with understanding as tears streaked through the dust on her cheeks. “Not without you.”
“Promise me you’ll care for him.” Scarlett used what was left of her energy to turn her head toward her beautiful, perfect son.
“I promise,” Constance cried, her voice breaking with tears.
“Thank you,” Scarlett whispered, gazing at William. “We love you.”
“Scarlett,” Constance sobbed, cradling the back of her sister’s neck as Scarlett’s eyes unfocused.
“Jameson,” Scarlett whispered with a faint smile.
Then she was gone.
…
“No!” Constance screamed, the sound overtaking the shrill wail of the sirens.
William’s face scrunched as he let loose the cry that echoed her own.
Where was the ambulance? Certainly something could be done. This wasn’t how this ended—it couldn’t be.
Bits of debris dug into her knees as she leaned over Scarlett and lifted William into her arms, cradling his head against her chest, unblinking, unfeeling as the world swirled around them.
“Ma’am?” someone asked, crouching at her side. “Are you and your baby all right?”
Constance’s brow knit as she tried to make sense of the man’s words. “My sister,” she said in way of explanation.
The man looked at her with pity, glancing between Scarlett’s fallen frame and her eyes. “She’s gone,” he said as kindly as he could.
“I know,” she whispered, her lips trembling.
“Can I get some help over here?” the man called back over his shoulder. Two other men appeared, crouching to her eye level. “We’ll take care of her. You need to get to hospital. You’re bleeding.”
“I have a car.” Constance nodded, her eyes wide and unfocused. When the men asked for identification, she handed them her handbag. Her mind had shut down, as though it had reached its limit for trauma, for heartbreak.
Edward.
Jameson.
Scarlett.
It was too much. How could one person feel so much sorrow and not die from it? Why was she kneeling, nearly unscathed amid the rubble that had taken her sister?
Constance staggered to her feet, holding William to her chest as the men loaded Scarlett into an ambulance.
Promise me you’ll protect him. Scarlett’s words whispered through the cacophony of the street, consumed her very being. She tightened her hold on William, tucking his head under her chin.