T heo Sinclair couldn’t recall a worse day. He honestly wished that he could make it to where he would never recall any of it.
The black cloud that had been his frequent companion for days buried him. Even Myrtle could not annoy him as he barely noticed her. He heard sounds, voices, but he failed to comprehend them. He had no idea how long the day lasted because lost track of it. His father, whose character he had heard such a blackened version of in recent weeks, was also dead. Theo didn’t know what to do with either revelation. He certainly didn’t know what to do with both of them.
If asked how he felt, he would have had no response. He couldn’t be certain. Blank. Numb. Empty. Those words meant nothing to him though, and no one asked. Or if they did, he didn’t hear them.
He sat on the sofa in the parlor but couldn’t have claimed to realize even that. He didn’t remember sitting or even entering the room. He didn’t see it any more than he heard the voices of anyone speaking. The darkness seemed never ending and all absorbing until he felt a weight on his arm.
He didn’t move anything except his head, then he struggled to bring into focus the small person who leaned against him.
Hazel.
Her upturned face watched him intently, her red-rimmed eyes proof that someone had probably given her an explanation regarding their father.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to fight the weight in his chest and throat to make words actually come forth.
The child sat for a long time—longer than one would ever expect. Then she cocked her head. “Can you see me, Theo?”
He had begun to drift, but for some reason, he heard the question clearly. He merely didn’t answer.
Hazel’s brows drew together, and she put a hand on his cheek. “Theo?”
“I can see you.” He wondered if she could hear him. He could barely get the words out.
Her frown deepened. “You said you would be all right, Theo. ’member? You and me and Mama and Artie.”
He did say it. He could barely recall it at the moment, though.
She patted his cheek again, her concern far too deep for such a little girl.
“Weren’t you with Artie, Hazel?” He didn’t actually remember, but it seemed likely.
She nodded with such solemnity that he tried to shake himself from the stupor, if only a little.
“Where is he?”
Her wide eyes hadn’t left his face. “With the goats.”
Theo shifted again. “You didn’t want to go with him?”
She shook her head.
Theo sighed. “Hazel…”
“Artie said that I can pray for you. I have been. He says that you’re really sad. I’m sad too.” She paused, cocking her head to the other side, her voice growing thicker. “I just want you to be all right, Theo, like you said you would be.”
It took more effort than ever in his life to move, but Theo put his arms around his little sister, pulling her close. When she laid her head against him, she probably didn’t notice the tear that splashed into her hair. One might wonder, though, if she noticed the ones that followed.
“Should I keep praying for you, Theo?” She sounded so little and so grown up at the same time.
It still took far too much effort to speak, but he managed. “If you would, Hazel. I’d say I need it.”