to the sounds of the garage door opening and closing. When I heard the kitchen door open and close then the lock slide into place, I expected Derek to come back into the living room, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed in the kitchen.
I heard the refrigerator and a cabinet door open and close as he puttered around, then the tinkling of silverware and the clack of the microwave door followed by its low hum.
The smell of leftover lasagna wafted into the living room, but still no Derek. I rose on a sigh, bracing myself for it to get ugly; evidently Derek wasn’t going to just volunteer anything.
“So,” I began, rounding the corner into the kitchen. He was just sitting down with a hot plate of food and didn’t even look up when I spoke. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are we getting ready to part ways?”
His head shot up. “I told you I’d tell you, but that there were some things I needed to find out first.”
“Well, I’m already involved so tell me now. I don’t like being kept in the dark,” I said calmly, certain that there were no truer words ever spoken.
“Carson—” he started, but I interrupted.
“Don’t ‘Carson’ me. Tell me Derek. We are supposed to be in this together, right?”
“We are, but—”
“No buts, Derek. Please.”
His dark brows squeezed together and dropped down low in a deep frown. His lips thinned into a hard, straight line. Those were clear indications of a storm on the horizon. His temper was on a short fuse, too. “The medal, I recognized it,” he said tightly.
“What?” My irritation evaporated, replaced by sheer curiosity. I slid into the chair opposite him and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Who does it belong to?”
If possible, Derek’s expression grew more thunderous. I could tell he was in no mood to share, but he answered anyway. His voice was low, but I could tell his teeth were gritted when he said, “It was my brother’s.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“But how did it get…” I trailed off, realization dawning. I felt the blood drain from my face, guilt and sorrow mingling in the hollow pit of my stomach. “Do you mean that’s who—”
I couldn’t finish the sentence, but I didn’t have to. Derek was already nodding, his eyes focused firmly on the plate in front of him as he poked at the food with his fork.
“Oh, Derek, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
Derek held up his hand to cut me off. He wasn’t interested in my remorse.
As I looked at his bowed head, at the misery that screamed from every dejected line of his body, I realized that I could end up just like that—alive, but full of anger and regrets, bitterness and hatred, not really living.
Though I refused to dwell on the eventuality of my “call”, it hovered over me, day and night, like a dark cloud. It sucked up a huge portion of my energy, my enthusiasm, my life. It was killing my spirit before I even had a chance to fight for it. And that, I decided, was crazy! I’d had enough.
At that moment, I determined that whatever fate had in store for me, whatever life had to offer, whatever was coming my way, I was going to do my dead level best to enjoy what time I had until then. And whatever happened, whatever I was eventually forced to do or endure, I would get through it and leave it behind—or die trying.
Something inside me steeled, became firm and unyielding, resolute. My father’s smiling face floated behind my eyes. This was what he’d been trying to teach me all these years—how to survive—but he’d missed the most important thing. There’s so much more to living that just surviving. Derek had survived, but look at him. Look at his life, his family. His world is a shambles, like the warped twisted metal of a train wreck.
Like a dusty old light bulb flickering hesitantly to life, a glimmer of hope broke through the darkness that had settled over me. It occurred to me that I had two options: I could lie down and wait to die, accept the fate someone else had decided for me, or I could find another way, a way to save the people that I loved.
Just the thought of making the decision, of taking charge of my life and not laying down to just accept whatever was to come my way, empowered me, gave me a sense of control in a world