The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48-1

+25 Points

I slowly rubbed my injured arm over my nightshirt, nervous. It was that I didn’t know what to expect-what Andre’s reaction would be when he came out from there and showed me those big blue eyes reddened from crying. Or rather, I didn’t know how I was going to react when I saw him and suddenly felt things I had spent more than a year trying not to experience again.

I swallowed saliva, impatient. He came out and sat back on his heels near me, his knuckles resting on the rug.

“… Before, I was afraid I wouldn’t see Mom again,” he told me softly, in a very low voice. “Now I know I’m never going to see her again. And my dad is to blame for her being dead. I told him we should go back for her, but he didn’t want to listen! It’s his fault!”

“No, Andre, don’t say that,” I begged him, even though I had thought almost the same about Alexander just minutes ago. It was my turn to feel guilty. I lifted, almost without pain, the hand of my injured arm and stroked the child’s almost albino hair and damp cheek; then I continued: “Your dad did everything he could to save you and your sister. Sasha is very small -she could have died on the journey too, you know? I think… he had to choose. And what he chose has cost him a lot-but it would have cost him even more to go back and face something much worse, don’t you think? He didn’t want to lose anyone else.”

In the meantime, a random thought came to my mind. I wondered how Alexander had managed to keep Sasha clean, warm, and well fed during the two weeks their cross-country journey lasted through part of Alaska, all of Canada, and that small portion of the United States. Sasha-and Andre as well-where had he gotten food? How had they stayed warm and sheltered from the cold and the storms? In what way had he protected them? I shuddered. I knew I alone could never have done something like what Alexander did for his children. We probably would have all died.

A small part of my conscience imagined him fighting some wild beast of the forest and the mountains to defend the children; surrendering at times to being that beast he never wanted to be under any circumstances. And it was an epic image.

Alexander had made a titanic effort, even while wounded.

Suffering never ended so easily. I felt like an idiot for judging him lightly, influenced by my own feelings. He had to choose between the love of his life and the fruits of that love, and I think that by then Alexander was more than regretting the decision. Well-not choosing his children over a wife who rejected him, but… alright, I think the point is clear. What matters is that, once again, I was taking liberties that weren’t mine to take.

Andre sniffed hard and crawled closer to me.

12

Chapter 48-1

+25 Points

I did not expect, just like that, for him to hug me, burying his face in my chest. But I could do nothing less than return that embrace until it hurt, and hold him so he could cry peacefully. I stroked his hair and rocked him as best I could, even in the uncomfortable position we had on the rug; I made the commitment not to leave him alone. I didn’t want Andre to feel the way I did when I lost the ones I loved most.

I let him cry as much as he wanted, because that was going to be the best thing.

“…It’s okay, Andre. Nothing will happen to you and your sister, because I know your dad will take care of you. You’re not alone, sweetheart. You’re not alone,” I told him, and the knot in the back of my throat grew harder, more bitter. “I promise you that I won’t…”

I couldn’t say anything more after that.

Because I, too, found myself needing to let it out and cry. I was weak and wanted to let myself feel again that burning pain that scorched me inside when I thought about how old my son would be by then, or what Paul would say about my novels. And the tears came down my cheeks on their own, like a torrent.

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2.2

<Chapter 48-2

+25 Points

of flowers relaxed me. I slowly removed the bandages from my arm and covered the wound with a towel so the skin patches wouldn’t come loose. Slowly, very slowly, I spent more than half an hour washing myself as best I could with one arm.

The water could cool, but my thoughts could not.

Alexander’s wife was dead. She had been an ordinary woman, like me-and she was dead. I didn’t know which part of all that frightened me more: being aware that those mysterious felines went straight to kill, or the idea of meeting the same fate as her. And all because of a good deed.

I rested the back of my head against the edge of the bathtub and stared at the ceiling, my injured arm outside the water.

The hot steam swirled around me and kept me from seeing much, but in my mind I still saw Andre, curled under the bed. Or Alexander, when he took him in his arms and pressed him to his chest. They stayed inside my bedroom for a long time, until he came out again and we met once more in the hallway. We didn’t say anything to each other, but he didn’t have to tell me-I could read in his eyes (and this time, very clearly) how affected he was.

I thought I saw myself reflected there exactly as I was-and I couldn’t do anything. I froze there on my feet.

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